“Thanks, Donnie.” She curled up on the couch. “Did you get my Facebook message? Bitch needs to charge and carry her cell phone every once in a while.”
“Yeah, I saw it. I guess we’re going shopping tomorrow.” She stared at the ceiling, unable to conjure any excitement.
“Yes, and that’s not all. I’m not about to leave my little bitch sitting at the house all by herself tonight while I party at the club. Get your round ass up, pack an overnight bag, put on that Caprica Six dress I made for you, and mix yourself a drink. I’m picking you up in less than an hour.”
She ran a hand through her hair, pushing a few wayward strands away from her face as she pouted. “It’s too early to go to a club.”
“Hook, please!” Donnie sounded exasperated. “Who do you think you are telling that? I know! That’s why we’re going to the gay bar first. The sisters will have you smiling again in no time. We’ll do a little dancing and then head to the straight club and get you laid!”
“You stupid mofo! I don’t want to hit it with some stranger. I had a moment this morning. Nathan Fillion makes me weak.”
“I know that’s right!” Donnie cackled. “Mary Allison, you are a strong, independent woman. You fuck who you want when you want.”
She exhaled a breath caught in her throat. “Yeah, I know, but I don’t wanna. I’ll go with you though. I need something to get my mind off what a great big fool I made of myself. I’ll be ready when you get here.” She sat up and stretched with her arms above her head.
After ending the call, she jumped in the shower. There was no telling what kind of smell Mark Melton’s nasty-ass abode put in her hair. As she shampooed and washed her body with some passion-fruit-scented shampoo, she realized the sweet, citrus fragrance was probably what Holden always smelled all over her when he came to her house.
“Ugh! Don’t think about that prick!” she cautioned herself as she closed her eyes and let the water pelt her, running down over her face.
After drying off, she put on the dress Donnie instructed her to wear. Her best friend was a designer with his own label and a boutique. Ever since he got ahold of her school uniform and made alterations until the damn thing fit, she had been his muse. She’d been so grateful she’d have done anything for him, but he said seeing how happy a little thing like a well-fitted uniform made her had inspired him. With his original creations, he only felt he had done his best when the outfit “captured the wearer’s whimsy”.
Based on the dresses he designed for her, he felt her whimsy was best represented by recreations of iconic outfits worn by SyFy sex symbols, not that she was complaining. Mary Allison loved every stitch Donnie made for her and felt like a rock star wearing them. She lotioned her skin in preparation for working her assets into the dazzling and form-fitting red dress famously worn by Tricia Hefner as she slinked through a genius’s subconscious in the newer Battlestar Galactica series.
Since the garment custom made for her, it was comfortable unless she drank too much booze or had a heavy dinner. She held the built-in bra that served as the backbone of the whole shebang against her breasts as she stepped into the dress. With a bit of twisting and stretching, she zipped up her gown, holding her breath until she arranged the tastefully obscene amount of cleavage created by the bodice. Her eyes widened as she looked at her reflection, turning to the side to check out her rear end. Too bad Holden won’t see me wearing this. Her lips pushed together, the bottom one poking out before she swallowed back her pain. I’ll be sure to take pictures.
She fanned her face, taking a few shallow breaths before lengthening her lashes with a little mascara and accentuating her lips with her signature Rouge Allure Velvet lipstick. She hugged her chest, remembering how Holden’s light touch had warmed her body but realized the evening air would raise chill bumps on her skin if she ventured out in only a spaghetti-strap dress with side cutouts. She sighed as she grabbed a sweater before stepping back in front of the looking glass to check on her look one last time. Holden can go screw himself.
She chose a small silver purse from her selection and put her ID, money, and lipstick inside before packing a pair of pajamas and a simple, comfy outfit for shopping in her gym bag. Remembering what Donnie said about her phone, Mary Allison grabbed her cell off the charger before tossing it into the bag too. She headed to the kitchen and then mixed a little Captain Morgan into some Coke. She closed her eyes as the liquid rolled over her tongue. Holden’s face flashed in her mind, and she banished the thought of him. No! I’m going to drink enough to have fun and forget about my fickle editor at least for a little while.
Chapter Five
On the drive home from Mary Allison’s house, Holden replayed his behavior in his mind and felt like the biggest tool that ever lived. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but he had turned as cold as Siberia toward her without any explanation. No wonder she was so angry. His chest had been filled with a gnawing empty sensation, and the fear of her breaking him had left him nearly paralyzed.
If I’d looked her way or tried to talk to her, I would have lost my resolve. He gripped the steering wheel, his stomach ill and a sickening feeling creeping up into his throat. I love her. I hadn’t meant to upset her, but she’ll move
