Chapter Thirty
Now
“I look like a prostitute.”
“You look gorgeous,” Simon said dismissively.
“Fae!” I cast a pleading look in her direction.
“What?” she muttered, not looking up from her magazine.
“Help!”
She raised her head to examine me. “I’d veto the blue eyeliner,” she suggested with a shrug.
“It makes a statement!” Simon protested.
“Sure, if the statement is, ‘I’m a hooker for hire,’” I complained, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
It was wrong, all of it. The dress was too short, the neckline too low, the heels too high to make me look like anything but a streetwalker — a high-priced one, perhaps — working her wares on the corner.
“They’re not even going to let me in looking like this.” I shook my head as I scanned myself from top to toe.
“Of course they will.” Fae sighed dismissively. “That’s a three thousand dollar dress.”
“What!”
“Relax,” Fae said, setting aside her magazine and rising from her perch on Simon’s bed. “We borrowed it from wardrobe closets atLuster. One of the stylists owed me a favor because I set her up with this great guy from—”
“Fae!” I interrupted what was sure to be a long tangent about her matchmaking skills. “Can we skip back to the part where you said this dress costs more than myrent…”
Simon and Fae grinned in unison.
I began to hyperventilate. “What if I tear it? What if I spill something and stain it?”
“Wow, good thing we didn’t tell her how much thoseManolos cost,” Simon muttered to Fae.
“What?!” I exclaimed, looking down at my feet in horror.
“Baby, breathe,” Simon ordered, taking me by the shoulders and staring deeply into my eyes. “You won’t tear the dress or muss the heels. You’ll befine. I’ll even take off the blue eyeliner if it makes you feel better.”
“Thank you.”
“Even though it totally brings out the navy hues in your eyes and—”
“Simon!”
“Fine, fine,” he muttered, steering me back to his vanity and grabbing a cotton swab. “Sit down, my little lady of the night.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as he began to dab the heavy makeup away.
“So what’s the plan, again?” Fae asked.
“Sebastian’s picking me up here in—” I glanced at my watch. “Shit! That can’t be the time! He’ll be here in ten minutes!”
“Deep breaths,” Simon ordered, swatting the tip of my nose with a makeup brush. “So you’re going to walk into this super secret society, assuming Sebastian’s last name even gets you inside, and… then what? Accuse the Vice President of sex trafficking? Tackle and handcuff a state senator in a civilian’s arrest? Kidnap and waterboard the belovedGood Day Americanewscaster until he reveals his sexual deviancies?”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Of course not. We’re going to get inside, make a little small talk, and slip away into the back room when the coast is clear. There must be some kind of an office or a computer where they store files. If I can find a bank receipt or any kind of money exchange proving that they’ve been doing anything remotely incriminating, I’ll have enough to get the authorities involved.”