Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Never camping out in front of a discount designer outlet on Black Friday because my work clothes are worn thin.
I never have to want again.
Not for material goods.
It should make me happy, relaxed, something, but it feels too unfamiliar. My whole life, I've been taught to be smart, savvy, frugal.
How can I spend five thousand dollars on a dress? Even if it is Shep's money?
I scan the racks for something cheaper. There. A coral with a distinct Marilyn Monroe vibe. Like the dress she wore in How to Marry a Millionaire. It's fitting. And the movie has a message I need.
What's wrong with a woman wanting a rich husband? Why isn't that okay if it's okay for a man to want a beautiful wife?
It's not my style, or my color, or what flatters my figure. And I'm certainly lacking the late Ms. Monroe's effervescent charm. But I like the idea of channeling her effortless smile and her adorable giggle.
Not me at all. But someone who can laugh and bat her eyes and stay above it all. That's what I want. The only thing, besides Dad being okay, that I want. Some way to survive this year without letting it affect me.
I check the sizes. Grab my usual, one smaller, one larger. Look for the dressing room. Find a smiling woman in a designer suit.
"You must be Miss Lee," she emphasizes the Miss, like it's oh so important I'm not yet married to Shep. "I'm Alexa. I understand you need help finding a gown for tonight."
"I'm going to try this one."
Her brow furrows it's not right then her expression shifts to the usual assistant smile. "You should. But will you allow me to pick a few things that better suit your look?"
"My look?"
"You're a winter darling. This pink isn't the worst. It's saturated enough. But it's awfully light. And warm. I see you more as a dark winter. I bet you look gorgeous in scarlet."
Okay… the whole season thing is vaguely familiar. Aunt Quyen was obsessed for a while. Always talking about how she was a Spring, but no one would see it, because everyone assumed Asian women were winters. But look how great she looked in yellow—only a bright spring looks that great in yellow.
She does look great in yellow. She wears some unusual styles, but she always has the perfect color for her outfit.
Maybe there's something to the whole season thing. Or maybe Shep wants me in something demure and subservient.
Okay, a dress can't really be subservient. But the whole I'm going to have final say over what you wear thing?
That's weird. Even for him. He doesn't care about clothes. His mother picked his out when he was a kid. And now?
I'd bet good money he has someone craft his entire wardrobe. I bet he has someone in charge of laundry, socks, goddamn hair styles.
If I was a less stubborn woman, I'd admit he always looks put together and sexy as hell. I'd admit that whoever it is who curates his appearance is a genius.
But I'm not a less stubborn woman. And, besides, I'm not willing to give up this way of expressing myself. We've never had much money for clothes, but I always found a way to show a little flair.
"I'm trying this one," I say.
"Of course." She doesn't lead me to a dressing room. She motions to the podium in the center of the room. "Do you need a longline bra? That dress has a fitted bodice. You don't need one. But some women prefer it."
I'm going to change right here, in the middle of the room, on an actual podium.
"Don't worry, Mr. Oza is going to stay in the office until I call him in." She holds her hand over her mouth and stage whispers. "When I first met him, I assumed he preferred men. Since most men who come in here willingly do."
Is running an errand for Shep really coming here willingly? I'm not so sure. But I'm not going to correct her.
Her voice raises to a tone that can only mean what I'm about to tell you is so scandalous you have to prepare yourself. "It turns out he prefers anyone." She motions only in New York.
"I'm from the Bay." There are clothing optional parties in Golden Gate Park once a month, at least. New York may be a bigger city with more people, but it can't compare to San Francisco in terms of Queer Community.
She laughs so you know.
Not exactly. But I catch her meaning.
I'm trying on this dress. In front of her. I can do that.
She wheels over a rack. Takes the three gowns from my hands. Slides one off the hanger. "Whenever you're ready, dear." She motions to the podium. Then to a chair where I can set my clothes.
Okay, I suppose there's no waiting. I step out of my shoes. Unbutton my blouse. Then the skirt. The bra.