“Hey, it’s fine. I take it as a compliment.”
She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and Imogen’s heart was lighter than it had been since … forever, it seemed like. Which, honestly, was a perfect way to start a date.
She glanced at the phone screen again to check the time. “Ten minutes.”
“Last makeup check. Purse check. You have condoms?”
“I’m not having sex tonight, Jury,” she said.
“Never say never. I mean, have you seen that dude? He wasn’t just inked, but built like a brick house. And, well, you never know. The right guy can totally turn you from almost-virgin-again into a fucks-on-the-first-date kinda girl.”
“That’s not happening tonight.”
“I’ll put some in your purse just in case.”
Imogen knew further protest was a waste of breath. Instead, she went to their shared bathroom counter, which was covered with makeup and hair tools until not a single inch of uncluttered space seemed visible. She glanced in the mirror again and paused.
I really do look beautiful,she thought.
Jury had wielded the supplies strewn about like weapons of dating warfare, and the result was understated, natural, and quite stunning. Her flame-colored hair fell in loose, beachy waves past her shoulders, her skin glowed radiantly with touches of highlighter and whatever other magic potions Jury had applied, and her eyes were emphasized just enough to make the brown soft and smoky.
“You sure I don’t need lipstick?”
“I say skip it. One, because the natural color of your lips is so pink and pretty; two, it’ll make you a lot less self-conscious; and three, he’s a lot more likely to kiss you.”
Imogen almost protested again, but held back. “I might let him do that.”
Jury held out a high hand. “High fives, big sis. I knew there was hope for you.”
Imogen slapped her palm and wondered why they’d never had this much fun together before.
Maybe because we were always fighting and arguing instead of being painfully aware that what you don’t appreciate, you have a tendency to lose.
“Thank you. You worked wonders on me. And it was so fun. I mean, like … the most fun.”
Jury grinned. “It was, wasn’t it? Definitely the most fun I’ve had in recent memory, and there were no drugs, booze, or dudes involved. Well, kind of a dude involved, but not directly. That has to qualify as a miracle, right?”
“I think you’re right.” She paused again. “What time is it?”
“Five minutes. You’d better head down. I know you like to be on time. And for once in my life, I find that important too.”
Imogen grabbed her new clutch—a gold-and-green leather number that was also super cute. “All right. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck, Im. You got this. But good luck anyway. I love you.” Jury leaned closer to air-kiss her cheek.
“Love you. Thank you again.”
“Anytime. Now go. You don’t want to be late.”
When Imogen reached the lobby and stepped outside the NOPSI Hotel doors, she was extra glad she hadn’t waited another minute. Because then she would’ve missed the long, shiny black car pulling up, like it had come straight from the 1960s.
People were grabbing their phones to take pictures and videos of the gorgeous vehicle. The windows were tinted dark, like a limousine, and it was almost as long as one. But it only had two doors, one smaller than the other, in its long, boxy frame. It was stunning, and Imogen wasn’t what anyone would call a car person. But whoever owned it clearly took care of it because the wide chrome rims and black paint shone beneath the lights.
The valet practically ran to the door. “Dude, a Lincoln Continental. So sweet.”
The driver shifted into park, and the valet reached for the chrome door handle. It swung open, and out came a leg in a striped navy-blue three-piece suit, worn by a man a thousand times more colorful than his car.
Cameras flashed like he was a celebrity, and he certainly looked the part. His white shirt was open to the buttons of the navy-blue vest, showing off a brightly burning red sacred heart tattooed on his chest. Vibrant colors of ink extended up his throat and the sides of his head, on which sat a black top hat.