They both gasped. “No, no, no. We’ll work together, we promise, won’t we, Emmylou, my love?”
“Absolutely, Chaz, my turtledove,” she cooed back.
Amery made gagging noises.
“Wait, it’s Monday, right?” Chaz said. “You know what’s open today?”
“Natasha’s.”
“At the risk of being outed as ignorant again, what is Natasha’s?” Amery asked.
“A vintage and designer clothing boutique. She owns stores in ten states and only takes the highest-quality pieces in exchange for store credit—no cash. But the kicker is, if you drop off your item here in Denver, it won’t be resold in Denver. It’ll be shipped to one of the other nine stores. And it’s only open two days a week.”
“She moves that much merchandise?”
“That, I’m not sure of. I do know it adds another layer of exclusivity.”
“So it’s a Goodwill for rich people. Except with fewer store hours.”
“Exactly.”
Chaz didn’t recognize her sarcasm.
“Go on.” He shooed her toward the stairs. “Since this is a fashion emergency, we’ll close up shop.”
Emmylou said, “I’ll grab my purse and my keys.”
• • •
TWO hours later, Amery stared at the rack of dresses, more than a little discouraged. She must’ve tried on two dozen outfits, from funky to chic. A couple looked good, but none looked great, or gave her that wow factor she wanted.
Emmylou and Chaz had ganged up on her with the help of Niles, the nattily dressed salesman. They brought her long dresses, short dresses, even a couple of Halston pantsuits from the 70s that were retro enough to be hip.
Since they were convinced they knew what style suited her better than she did, Amery hadn’t checked the merchandise. But while Niles and Chaz were advising Emmylou on professional outfits, Amery snuck out of the dressing room.
She’d been a bargain shopper all her life and immediately headed for the sales rack. Rather than sticking to her size, she checked the selection a size smaller and a size larger. Sometimes clothes were mismarked, and other times tiny adjustments fixed fitting issues.
Her friends were overly hung up on designer labels and tended to overlook design, while Amery gravitated toward simple styles. The pieces they’d brought to her were anything but simple. One dress had feathers around the hemline. Feathers, for god’s sake. Feathers reminded her of being forced to gather eggs on her grandparents’ farm—she’d had enough flying feathers to last her a lifetime, thank you very much.
She flipped through hangers slowly, weighing the pros and cons of each piece, while keeping an eye on the price. She spied a dress half dangling off the hanger. It was a black silk sheath, simple looking at first glance, but then she noticed the fabric overlay was threaded with silver. When she tilted the dress, it gave the illusion of movement like lightning. The beaded hem made a cool clicking sound as the clear round beads connected with the silver tube beads around the bottom edge. Although it was shorter than she normally wore, she figured the extra weight of the beads would keep the dress from riding up.
The woman next to her eyed the dress and Amery draped it over her arm and returned to the dressing room.
Even before she’d zipped it up she knew it was “the” dress. She didn’t care if Emmylou or Chaz didn’t like it; she felt glamorous. As if she might not embarrass herself on Ronin’s arm, because, guaranteed, the striking-looking man would turn heads in whatever he wore.
“Amery, darling, I’ve found . . .” Chaz’s eyes raked over her.
“Hey, could you zip me up?”
“Where did you get this?”
“Pawing through the sales rack.” When he continued to stare at her, she turned defensive. “I didn’t like anything I tried on and I don’t care if you don’t like this; I love it.”
“I love it too. It’s perfect. You are a goddess in that, Amery. A goddess.” Then he yelled for Emmylou.
She poked her head in, took one look at Amery, and said, “Holy shit.”
“I know, right? Our little North Dakota farm girl is all fancied up for her trip to town for the annual pie-and-ice-cream social.”
“Fuck off,” Amery said to Chaz. “I can dress myself.”
“Oh, really? What shoes would you wear with that?” he demanded.
“Heels.”
He rolled his eyes. “You gotta be more specific than that.”
“I don’t suppose you could find me a pair of silver Louboutin spike heels or black Manolo sling-backs in my size?” Amery spun and checked out her rearview. “Maybe I need something funkier. Check to see if there’s a pair of Jimmy Choo booties. Or better yet, chunky Alexander McQueen platforms or wedges would be perfect for this dress.”
Chaz got right in her face. “How is it that a woman who professes to care nothing about fashion can rattle off the top footwear designers?”
“I never claimed I didn’t care, as my subscriptions to a dozen fashion and beauty magazines can attest. Just because I can’t afford haute couture doesn’t mean I’m unaware of it.”
“I feel like I don’t even know you. You never want to discuss fashion trends with me,” he said with an exaggerated pout.
“Because then that’d be all we’d ever talk about,” she pointed out. “Besides, I’m more interested in the layout and design of the ads in those magazines because it’s my job to stay on top of advertising trends. I can’t help it if specific fashion brands make a better impression than others.”
“But—”
“Chaz, leave her alone,” Emmylou warned. Then she smiled at Niles brightly. “So, sugar, you fixin’ to show us some fancier shoes for our girl?”
Amery tuned them out as they debated shoe choices. The truth was, it wouldn’t matter if she picked a pair from Payless. No one would be checking out her feet in this hot little number. Wow. She was smokin’. She couldn’t wait to see Ronin’s reaction.
• • •
TUESDAY night she showed up at the dojo at nine when Ronin was almost finished teaching class. As much as she would’ve loved to see him in action, his “no observation” rule applied to girlfriends as well. She waited in the reception area for either Ronin or Knox to escort her to the elevator.
Knox showed up ten minutes later. “Amery. Sorry to keep you waiting. Sensei has been detained, so I’m escorting you upstairs.”