“Well, yeah. Except for the fact that all this dress says about me is, ‘hello, meet my breasts.’”

“Seriously, sweetheart?” Mandy arches an eyebrow. “You’re going to Hollywood. You’ll still look like a nun.”

“I doubt this is nun-wear, even in LA. This is the kind of dress you have to double tape to keep everything in place.”

“So it’s a bit more revealing than what you’re used to,” Nikki says. “What’s the big deal?”

“I can’t show up at work like this.”

“Come on,” Nikki insists. “It’s not work.”

“But Richard will be there!”

“The more reason to wear the dress.”

Mandy injects herself into the conversation. “Is there a gentleman involved?”

“No,” I reply, just as Nikki says, “Yes.”

“Then you must definitely choose this one,” Mandy concludes, taking Nikki’s word over mine.

“Definitely,” my nasty roommates agrees.

“Or maybe I should try on one of the other dresses…” I take a more conservative-looking black gown off the rack. “This looks much more—”

“Safe,” Nikki ends the phrase for me.

“I was going to say appropriate. Come on, Nikki,” I protest one last time. “This is not me.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

“What do you mean?”

“This dress was totally made for the new you. If you can go to jail, you can wear the dress.”

Mandy is looking at us as if we’re crazy. “You went to jail?”

I jump to reassure her. “It was a bureaucratic misunderstanding. I wasn’t really arrested.”

Her expression relaxes.

Nikki pushes her point, “There must be something on your not-to-do list of things you have to do that forces you to wear this beauty.”

I mentally scroll through the items and smile devilishly. “Always dress appropriately…?”

“Then it’s decided!” Nikki’s smile is almost as wicked as mine.

Mandy nods her approval, but it’s Chevron’s bark of endorsement that seals the deal.

Nine

Never Confide in Strangers

I shouldn’t be so early. Simple as that. There are a million reasons to keep a decent buffer when traveling, but I should’ve kept it practical. Three hours for a domestic flight is an eternity. Even the monstrous departures board of JFK informs me I’m definitely too early. No gate info yet.

I need to find somewhere cozy to wait. The only place with seats in sight of the board is an airport bar, so I drag my suitcase along and sit on a stool at the counter.

“Hi,” the bartender—a friendly looking blonde-hair-blue-eye type with a warm expression—greets me. “What can I get you?”

“Something to drink, please,” I say.

“Cocktail, beer, a soda?”

“No thanks. Do you have any organic juices or a relaxing tea?”

The bartender’s blue eyes twinkle. “Let’s see.” He squats behind the counter to open a fridge, I assume. “On the organic shelf, there’s OJ, Honeycrisp apple juice, carrot beet ginger juice, or mango tea.”