Rushed(15)

“Here goes nothing," I whisper, reaching for the dress. I look down at myself, and wonder if I'm really going to do what I plan on doing, then nod. Tyler set a rule . . . I'll follow it.

Putting the dress on my bed, I go to my underwear drawer and take out my sexiest set of panties, a black satin piece that is the exact color as the skirt of my dress. I pull it on, feeling more powerful and pretty already . . . dare I say it, sexy even? Yes, I feel sexy, and it's an awesome feeling.

I don't have to unzip the dress at all, Jovani did a great job of mixing stretch fabric with the lace, although I do have to kind of worm myself around, my thighs rubbing together as the skirt slides up to settle at my waist. There's a belt too, and I remind myself to not forget it as I slip my arms into the straps of the top and try to adjust my breasts inside the built in bra. Finally, with a bit of a jump and a hop, everything seems to jiggle into the right place. I don't look at myself in the mirror until after I get the belt on, but when I do, even without my high heels, I'm stunned by how I look.

I look hot. Like, real hot, the hot that would be a date for a guy like Tyler. Whoa. Who is this girl?

"Let's see how I look with some makeup," I say to myself, going over and getting ready there. I'm not the sort of girl who wears a lot of makeup, I've never felt comfortable in it and I think my natural skin tone and look helps that anyway, but while I do, I see the subtle reminders of my teen years, and one of the reasons why I ended up so shy. Still, the scars on my cheeks and forehead are getting smaller each year, and maybe by the time I'm twenty-five I won't be reminded daily of this bullies from high school. I've tried foundation or other skin treatments, but it doesn't work on me, it just makes it all stand out more. Ah well.

A quick brush of my hair, and I look at myself in the mirror, stunned again. That's not me. It can't be. Like, the mousy look, the hunched shoulders, the lock of hair that seems to always find it's way over my face . . . it's all gone.

Instead, I see my shoulders pulled back, and lips that aren't quite juicy but maybe still kissable. The dress even makes my breasts seem bigger somehow, maybe because of the curve of the built in bra. Best of all though, my legs look about a kilometer long and actually toned as I pull on my high heels. Maybe all those lunchtime trips up and down the stadium steps has paid off.

Driving to Tyler's hotel, part of me wishes that I could have been picked up like a real date, but the restaurant is close to the hotel, I didn't want to make him drive more than he has to. He might have said no alcohol, but if two sangrias screwed him up so much last night, then we need to make doubly sure.

I text him when I get to the parking lot, and he replies right away, saying he'll be right down. I sit in the lobby and wait, a bit of nervousness coming back to me as I see the looks from the few men who walk through the lobby. The one man gets elbowed by his wife, or at least I think it's his wife. God I must look like a slut or something. Oh God, no I can't . . .

The elevator dings, and I reach for my purse, ready to run out, but I look back, stopping when Tyler walks out. I thought he looked nice before, but he looks heart-stopping in a black outfit that I at first mistake for a tuxedo before I see the red tie and realize it's just a well cut suit. "Tyler?"

Tyler sees me and stops, his eyes widening as he sees me. "April? You look . . . amazing.”

I can't help it, I blush. I stop, unable to flee as he comes closer. "Thank you," I whisper, "and you . . . where did you get that suit?"

Tyler looks down and laughs. "You won't believe me if I told you."

"No, really, where? It looks like a thousand-dollar suit."

Tyler nods. “Originally it probably was. But that was when whoever bought it the first time paid for it. It's a Hart Schaffner suit that I found at the Hollywood Goodwill."

"No way." Goodwill? Really?

Tyler nods and gives me a megawatt smile. "Yeah, a little known secret for the poor but wanting to be trendy or fashionable in Los Angeles. Check the Beverly Hills or Hollywood Goodwills. A lot of the A-listers, or the studios even, will donate clothes really quickly if they are not part of a famous costume set or something. I got it for a hundred bucks, and spent another fifty getting it tailored to my body."

"Well, if you said you were a secret agent, I wouldn't doubt you at all," I reply, smiling. "You look . . . well, if I can use the word, dashing."

"Mmm, remember that for the team," Tyler says with a light laugh. "Dashing Tyler Paulson. That'll sell some t-shirts."

Tyler goes to ask another question when my cellphone rings. I wince and pull it out, my wince turning into a frown when I see the number. It's the hospital. "Excuse me a moment, Tyler. I need to take this."

"Of course. How about I pull my car around, and I can meet you back here in a second?" Tyler offers, giving me my privacy. I nod gratefully and take the call.

"Hello, this is April Gray."

"Miss Gray, this is Dr. Fontaine from hospice. I hate to call you so late, but there's been an incident with your mother."

Mom? Oh no. "What happened?"

"She had a bit of a panic attack and pushed a nurse," Dr. Fontaine said. "There were no injuries, but she was upset for a while. We had to sedate her."

I sigh, nodding. That's the third time in the past two months. Mom's really starting to have problems. I think we're looking at the transition from mid-stage to late-stage Alzheimer's now. "I understand, Doctor. I'll try to visit this weekend.”