17. Pearl Necklace #2
That little hoe—she’s supposed to have my back! Then again, she did catch us together the other morning.
“Oh, I figured something was happening since I heard her vibrator going at it this morning. I just figured Liam was just a little out of practice,” Rory says as we walk into the store.
“Rory!” I scold as we enter, as I’m certain I see a mother leaving the store who’s covering her son’s ears after she overheard us.
“Sorry!” Rory calls out, waving to the mother, who is staring daggers at us.
Reese slaps a hand over her face, greeting the saleswoman as we enter.
“If it isn’t my favorite customers! The beautiful Vaughn sisters!
” the elderly woman greets, pressing kisses to each of Reese’s cheeks.
We’ve been coming here to buy our tailored gowns since we were old enough to wear heels.
Cynthia very well knows we aren’t sisters, but according to her, sisterhood is much more than blood.
And I couldn’t agree more.
Cynthia is quite the remarkable artist. She custom-makes our dresses, hand-drawing and designing each one.
I would hate to say how much our grandmother pays for them, but she insists.
And honestly, it’s something we look forward to each year—even me, who is definitely the most casual dresser of us all.
She takes us to the back and offers us seats around the 360-degree mirror.
“First up is the eccentric and unique—Miss Rory Vaughn,” the elderly woman announces with a thick Italian accent.
Rory giggles as she throws her purse toward her sister and darts into the dressing room.
Several minutes pass until my youngest cousin steps out. We each clap, taking turns admiring Cynthia’s incredible work.
As the youngest, Rory’s beauty has always been overlooked.
I’m admired for my tanned skin and dark features; June for her elegance and perfect posture; and Reese for her eye-catching beauty and bedroom curves.
Rory is the mix—the perfect blend of each of us.
And the olive-green dress…it highlights the features that belong only to her, those of someone with an Autumn color palette. All topped off with contrasting light eyes that only further complement her dark look.
Rory claps her hands, then pulls Cynthia in for a quick kiss on the cheeks.
June’s next, slipping into the dressing room.
She emerges in a butter-yellow gown, and I can tell by her expression that she isn’t sold on the color.
June is the fashion expert, so she’s always the hardest to please.
Still, the shade suits her, highlighting her eyes and complementing her chestnut hair.
When Cynthia places a diamond-studded necklace along her thin collarbones, June beams.
“Yep—that’s it,” she says, satisfied.
Then it’s Reese’s turn.
“Come out!” June encourages, far too loud for the small shop—but that’s just how she is.
“Umm—I’m not so sure about this,” Reese scolds as she peers through the dressing-room door. When she finally steps out, our jaws hit the floor.
It seems Cynthia had a mind of her own this year, because she went all out. The dress hugs Reese like a glove.
Reese’s arms curl over herself. “Cynthia, it’s beautiful,” she says—careful, because I know she hates hurting people’s feelings—before adding, “but this shows everything. And not in a good way.”
Cynthia looks wide-eyed at June.
June looks away, and I know immediately she’s done something.
“Spill it,” I grit, shooting invisible daggers at June.
June frowns. “Okay, so maybe I called and told Cynthia that Reese wanted something a little more…sexy…this year.”
“JUNE!” we all exclaim.
June lifts her hands in surrender. “You are seriously hot, Reese. It’s time you freaking own it.”
“I can’t—no, I won’t wear this! I invited Reid! He’ll be fucking mortified to be seen with me.” She runs her hands over her ponytail.
Cynthia excuses herself, leaving us to hash it out.
Rory, of course, doesn’t help. “Yeah, he’s gonna be mortified that a fucking knock-out won’t give him the time of day. How embarrassing for him.”
“Rory!” I scold her for her foul mouth.
Reese’s face goes red as she turns to the mirror, finally dropping her arms so we can see the full design. The back is completely open, the red silk cutting impossibly low, nearly exposing everything. She spins, the front dipping forward, and she quickly covers herself.
“What kind of bra do you even wear with this?” she asks, running a hand over the front.
June is smiling like a Cheshire cat behind her.
“Oh, no,” Cynthia declares, returning. “Absolutely not. No bra, honey.” The elderly woman winks and gives June a thumbs-up.
“I fucking love you, Cynthia,” Rory says, grinning.
Reese spins around, admiring herself in the mirror. Her fingers trace her collarbone as she takes a deep breath. She shrugs, cheeks burning scarlet. “I mean…the girls do look good.”
“Exactly!” June and Rory screech at the same time.
After it seems we’ve finally convinced Reese to wear the dress, it’s my turn to step into the booth.
June calls out, “So…”
June Vaughn clearly made more than one phone call to Cynthia.
I run my fingers over the delicate fabric. It’s stunning—one of the finest dresses Cynthia has ever made for me. I can tell that much just from the hanger.
It takes Cynthia nearly ten minutes to secure it over me. The black dress boasts cap sleeves, a see-through bodice that narrows and accentuates my waist. The back is a corset, pushing and pressing my breasts up near my damn chin, which is impressive since I’m barely a B-cup.
When I step out, Rory high-fives June before passing out the champagne flutes to celebrate.
My eyes find the mirror, and I can’t help but smile. The dress is gorgeous.
Cynthia reaches for my wrist and secures a bracelet. She moves my hair off to the side as she begins to place a matching pearl necklace at my throat. But June calls out, putting down her glass of champagne to say, “I changed my mind—I think no on the necklace, Cynthia.”
Cynthia considers it, but eventually nods her approval.
Reese smiles, tipping back her drink with a wink.
Rory chuckles softly, clearly about to say something ridiculous. “Yeah, definitely no on the pearl necklace...” And I should know her better to understand what comes next, “though if you change your mind…I’m sure Liam could give you one.”
Reese’s champagne flies from her mouth, spraying all over June, who screeches.
The four of us remain silent as Cynthia looks at each of us before tipping her head in pure laughter.
“Oh, you girls are naughty! My absolute favorite, darlings!” She chuckles, finishing up pinning the lengths.
“But you take him up on that offer should it arise, my dear.” She scolds, and I know my face is heating.
I take off the dress, taking the champagne from Reese’s hands when I step back out.
“Speaking of Liam—is he going to come?” Reese asks.
I shrug my shoulders.
I want him to. And yet, I don’t.
Every year after the Gala, the four of us, and anyone else we invite, spend the weekend at our parents’ cabin.
It overlooks our family’s ski resort and usually turns into a large party with all our friends.
I can’t believe I forgot about it this year, too busy with senior year and working with the team.
I really need to talk to Liam about things. And doing it away from campus, away from past memories, might be good—maybe even better—that way.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll ask him,” I say, tipping back the crisp bubbles.
Rory must overhear because she exclaims, “Oh, the cabin is going to be rocking this year.” She laughs, thrusting the air as June and her die laughing. But I grin, hoping for once Rory isn’t wrong.