outfit for last. I fasten the top hook on the corset and look at my reflection. My skin’s almost as light as the white satin. The overall effect is ethereal. I imagine I’m stretched out over fine linens on a canopy bed and surrounded by sheer white curtains with my hair fanned across the pillow.
I gaze at an imaginary bare-chested Max standing by the bed with a fierce look in his eyes as he unzips his jeans. I’m going to need a cold shower after this shopping trip.
“I’ll meet you at the register,” Riley says, as she leaves the dressing room, and I snap back to reality. There’s no way I’m getting this white outfit—it’s too wedding night-ish. I decide on the lavender bra and panties as I get dressed again.
A wave of buyer’s remorse hits me as soon as I’ve signed the credit card slip. I’ve no business spending this kind of money on underwear, but I try to rationalize it by remembering the bonus Adam gave me from the art show. Besides, I’m usually careful with my money.
With our purchases complete, we get in the car and drive to the Kings Road Café to get a late lunch. We’re about halfway through our salads when Jess and her posse stroll by.
“Hey Jess,” I call. She grins and sweeps me in a big hug.
“Hey, Riley. What’s shaking, ladies?”
“We’re having a girlie day.” I reply as I stick out my foot and wiggle my toes while holding up my Agent Provocateur bag.
“Cool,” she says and turns to her friends. “Go on in and get a table. I’ll be right there.” She slides into the empty seat next to me.
“Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do,” she quips, giving me a stern look. “I heard from Adam that Jonathan from Art+trA hired you to write Max’s book. Is that true?” She gives me the Jess-look of dubious judgment, and I can’t hide my surprise that she heard the news already.
“Isn’t it exciting!” Riley chimes in.
“Well, that depends on expectations,” Jess replies.
“Can you elaborate?” I ask nervously.
“Look, Ava, we both know you can do this, and you’ll do a great job while you’re at it. But how much of this is about Jonathan and Max wanting to get into your pants?”
I feel the sting as if I’ve been slapped.
Riley groans. “Jess, this isn’t helping her confidence with her writing.”
“Well, Jess, even if that were true, and I don’t think that’s the case, I can handle myself. I’m not going to do anything I don’t want to do.”
Jess folds her arms over her chest.
“The project is a great opportunity and challenge. Should I really turn it down without seeing how it plays out?”
She purses her lips and nods. “Not a bad point. Okay, I’m going to go join my friends. But let me know if anyone steps out of line. I’ll be happy to kick their ass,” she says, as she playfully shakes her fist and smiles.
“Ciao, ladies. Give me a call next week and let’s go out for a drink.”
The next day, Riley and I decide to leave for Malibu by eleven-thirty to avoid traffic. Riley’s wearing white capris and a halter top that shows off her tan shoulders, while I wear my new lavender lingerie under my sundress. I put the top down on my convertible, so we can soak in the glorious Southern California sun.
We get off the 101 at Malibu Canyon and wind our way through the hills. As we near the coastline, we see that spectacular view. It’s a different world at the beach, and the clean air lifts my spirits. Following Max’s directions, we pass Zuma Beach and turn into a driveway.
I pull up to a large gate and punch in the code Max gave me into the keypad. With a grand gesture, the tall emerald-green gates part.
Riley and I grin. It’s as if we’ve been transported to Oz. We break into an enthusiastic round of “Follow the Yellow Brick Road,” using munchkin voices as we drive through the soaring entry, and head down toward the ocean. Halfway down the hill, we stop singing.
Riley gasps. “Wow! He lives in paradise!”
I
Lisa Mantchev, A.L. Purol