About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(39)

I wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or not. Hell, I didn’t know if Terry knew if that was sarcasm or not.

I opened my mouth to respond, but my mother always said if you don’t have anything nice to say, zip your lip. He placed his fingers under the glass in my hand and lifted it to my mouth. “Drink. Protein. Good.”

Lifting it to my nose, I sniffed. Then I sipped. It wasn’t bad. I sipped again.

He rounded me and walked toward my bedroom, muttering, “Bedroom this way? Great! Let’s do this.”

Terry made his way through my room, pushing open the curtains. As sunlight streamed in, I fought hissing and hiding under my bed. Then Terry turned. His horrified gasp scared the crap out of me. Now awake, I jumped and yelled a petrified, “What? What?”

He covered his mouth with the fingers of both hands and mumbled, “Oh, honey.” He sounded disappointed. “What is that?”

I glanced around my bedroom and shrugged. “What?”

He pointed firmly to my bed. “That!” He made his point by slowly taking the three steps toward my bed and picking up my floral duvet with his fingertips.

I answered slowly, as if he were asking a trick question. “My comforter.”

He looked down at the retro, old school floral print before asking a mocking, “Are you an eighty-year-old spinster who quilts on the weekends down at the ‘ole community hall?”

Just to peeve him off, I crossed my arms over my chest, careful not to spill my glass of sludge, and replied a defiant, “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed and he looked me up and down before declaring, “You look good for your age, Mia.” Then he turned his face from my bed and stated, “Just…no! We are going to fix that.”

Throwing open my closet, he glanced at the clothes inside then asked, “Where’s the rest?”

I sat on my bed with a sigh, sipping my sludge. “Rest of what, Terry?”

“The clothes, Mia.” He turned slowly, his eyes crazy-like. “Tell me you have more clothes.”

I didn’t have an answer for that, so I didn’t answer. Instead, I sipped my berry protein shake and blinked up at him. Letting out a string of curses, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. Placing it at his ear, he waited then spoke, “I need to book in an urgent appointment with Eddie.” A pause then he rolled his eyes. “I know she’s booked. Tell her it’s Terry,”—he glanced down at me then whispered into the receiver—“and this is an emergency.” He waited a little while then went over to my desk, writing on the notepaper. “Excellent. Thank you!”

Ripping the paper off the pad, he handed it to me. “Edita is the best. She owes me, so she won’t cost you a dime.” He tilted his head then added, “The clothes, however, will cost you. Big time.”

I held the paper in my hand and asked, “What are you talking about? What clothes? Who is Edita?”

Terry beamed. “Why, honeybuns, Edita is your personal shopper.”



An hour later, a sophisticated woman with a black bob in a gorgeous tan, cream, and caramel patterned dress reached up to pull off her sunglasses. Her gaze lingered on me as she muttered, “This is an emergency.”

I looked down at my jeans and sweater combo. Personally, I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I got my sweater in a bargain bin. It cost me eight dollars, because of a snag in the back. I couldn’t see the snag when I wore it. I was sold!

Unlike some of my peers, I worked through college. Every year, I found something new to do. I went from working in a bakery to serving coffee, checking out groceries, and finally, working in the college library. I had a wad of savings in my bank account. That didn’t mean I wanted to waste it all on clothing.

The woman held her hand out, taking mine without permission. “Edita Warshol. Please call me Eddie. And you’re Mia.” Dropping my hand, she placed her arm through my elbow and dragged me along. “Now that we’re introduced, let’s get going. I only have two hours to spare.”

Two hours?

Surely I didn’t hear that right.

Two freaking hours?

Ugh. I was going to kill Terry.

Eddie dragged me from store to store, and I quickly stated that I was on a budget. Without meaning to be mean—at least, I thought she did—she looked down at me with a smile that said, ‘I can see that’.

I hated to admit it, but after a short while, I was pleasantly surprised with Eddie’s services. She asked me to show her a few items of clothing I would choose for myself, took my style into consideration, and then went to work. She pushed me out of my comfort zone with some items, but when I tried them on, I loved them. She made me buy some new makeup, asking the clerk to show me how to apply them, and three pairs of heels I secretly adored from the moment I saw them, and then took me to get all new lingerie.

As quietly as I could, I warned her I wasn’t into sexy lingerie. I was more into plain and comfortable. But she assured me that plain and comfortable could still be sexy. I was miffed to admit she was right.

Ten pair of panties and five bras later, I walked out of the store with a shy but excited smile. Soon, it was time for Edita to leave, and I was surprised when she stopped to hug me. “Thank you for letting me do what I love, Mia.”

“Thank you for helping me. I never would’ve chosen half of these clothes without your push.”