Chapter 16

The leggy brunette stared at me with obvious disdain. "But she's a mess," she said.

I felt my cheeks grown warm in the cool penthouse air. "Gee thanks," I said.

"Bianca," Jake said in a warning tone. "You don't wanna do this. Just say so."

As if by magic, her voice morphed from ground glass to warm velvet. "I never said that."

Jake pulled out his cell phone. "I'll call someone else. No problem."

"Oh stop," Bianca said, reaching for his arm. She gave him a sultry smile. "You know me. I just love to shop." She turned toward me, and her smile became predatory. "Especially with a new friend."

A scoffing sound escaped my lips.

"Pardon?" she said.

I cleared my throat. "Nothing. Sorry."

I snuck a quick glance at Jake. His gaze drifted from me to Bianca and back again. He had to know this wasn't a good idea. Then again, he was a guy. Even the smartest guys could be surprisingly clueless when it came to stuff like this.

The three of us were standing just inside the door of Jake's penthouse. I'd taken a quick shower and thrown on some clean clothes. Unfortunately, none of those clothes were mine – not my size, and definitely not my style.

Embarrassingly, I was pretty sure that most of them were castoffs from whatever girl – or girls – Jake might've been seeing. I glanced down. Or maybe some hooker was missing half her laundry.

From the corner of my eye, I studied Bianca. She wore a sleek, cream-colored dress with matching heels. She didn't look like a hooker. Or at least, she didn't look like a low-rent hooker.

That made one of us.

As I watched, Bianca leaned toward Jake and whispered something flirty in his ear. He pulled away before she finished, leaving her frowning in obvious frustration.

"Remember," he told her. "Dress. Shoes. Extras. Whatever. You've got three hours."

Bianca's lips formed a pout. "Only three hours?"

"Is something wrong?' Jake asked.

"No. Of course not." Bianca hesitated, giving me a long, pointed look. Then, she leaned toward Jake and said in a low whisper that somehow managed to fill the whole room, "except, look what we're starting with."

"Hey," I said, "I heard that."

"Oh, you did?" She winced. "I'm sorry. It's just that our styles are so different. That's all."

I glanced down. "This isn't my style."

Her gaze dipped to my skirt – too tight, too short, and too dangerous, considering I'd refused to wear another girl's underpants. And wearing my own wasn't exactly an option, given the fact that some unseen housekeeper had swooped them up, along with my other dirty clothes while I'd been in the shower.

Bianca gave me a sympathetic look. "Of course it isn't."

My gaze narrowed. "I don't shop at Hookers-Are-Us if that's what you're thinking."  I turned to Jake. "You know what? Just get my suitcase, alright? I'm sure I have something in there."

He didn't budge. "Not for this thing, you don't."

Damn it. I turned to Bianca. "If you could just point me to the nearest store," I said, "I mean, I'm sure you're busy with, uh..." Actually, I had no idea what she did.

She gave me that same cool smile. "Never too busy for Jake." She turned to Jake and ran a manicured fingernail along his jawline. "Isn't that right?"

Jake gave her a long, cold look. She pulled away and gave me a nervous glance. Jake reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He peeled off way too many hundreds and handed them over. To me, not her.

Embarrassed, I tucked the money into the pocket of my too-tight skirt and tried not to think about it. Good thing we had never had sex. I'd feel like a hooker for sure, especially in these clothes.

Bianca gave Jake a pretty little pout. "What about me?" she asked.

"Put it on the card," Jake said.

There was a card? Was she on retainer or something?

Before I could give it much thought, Jake's cell phone chirped. He answered with a crisp, "Yeah?" He glanced up and said, "The driver's downstairs."

There was a driver?

That particular question was answered ten minutes later when Bianca and I slid into the backseat of a long, black sedan. Up front, the driver said, "the usual place?"

I glanced at Bianca. How often did this do this? And, she did she normally do it alone? Or did she make a habit of shopping with Jake's new, well, whatever I was? When Bianca answered in the affirmative, the driver pulled away, leaving me staring out the window as the doorman gave us a professional-looking wave.

Sitting next to me in the back seat, Bianca pulled a cellphone from her designer handbag and started tapping away at the screen.  I was dying to ask her about Jake. There were so many questions that I almost didn't know where to start. What exactly did he do for a living? And why did everyone in the world except me seem to know who he was?

I mean, it wasn't like I lived under a rock. I watched TV. I went to the movies. Hey, I even vaguely knew about the Kardashians. So why was Jake such a mystery?

I slid Bianca a sideways glance. She was making an obvious point to ignore me – trying to make me uncomfortable, no doubt. The sad thing was, it was working. She had the upper hand and then some. She knew who Jake was. She knew his driver. She had his credit card, or least some sort of card.

Was she a friend? A girlfriend? Or maybe she was one of those friends with benefits? I bit my lip. Did she work for him? And if she did, what exactly did she do?

I had a few ideas, but none I wanted to dwell on.

The drive passed in absolute silence. I watched out the window as the cityscape changed with every block.

Obviously, he knew the city well – a lot better than me, that's for sure. Soon, we were on the interstate. The highway signs told me a lot more than Bianca ever had. We were heading out toward Troy, one of Detroit's most affluent suburbs. Well that solved one mystery at least. Finally, I knew exactly where we were going – to Somerset.

To call it a mall didn't do the place justice. The place was huge with nearly 200 stores. Brand names skittered across my brain – Gucci, Ralph Lauren, Tiffany, and more.

I'd been to Somerset exactly one time, and had vowed never to return. For one thing, looking at luxury goods when you had almost no money was only entertaining in the short-term. In the long term, it just made it that much harder to smile when I paid the bare minimum on my student loans.

In the front pocket of my obscenely short skirt, Jake's money burned against my skin. He'd given me a lot. I didn't know how much, exactly. At the time, I figured it was too much. But now, given our destination, I wasn't so sure.

I wanted to reach into my pocket and pull it out. I wanted to count it so I had some idea of how much I should be spending. Next to me, Bianca was still focused on her phone. And yet, somehow I knew she'd be completely aware – and beyond delighted – if I did something so crass.

Inside the first dressing room, I would be definitely be counting it. There was something else I planned on doing – calling my sister. Thinking about it, I pulled out my own phone and tapped out a quick text, telling her it was me and asking if she was available to talk.

Almost immediately, my phone rang. I glanced at the display. It was her. I winced. I wanted to talk, but not this instant, not with Bianca around. Fearful of missing Selena later, I answered anyway. "Hello?"

"Where the hell have you been?" she said. "And what happened with your old number? I keep getting a disconnection notice."

"Oh hey," I said, in my best cheery tone. "It's good to hear from you too. Can I give you a call in a bit?"

"No," she said.

Oh crap. "Why not?"

"Because," she said, "I've been trying to reach you forever. I have some news. And I've been worried sick about you."

"Oh, that's nice," I said.

"What?" Selena said. "No, it's not."

"Sounds good," I chirped. "Talk to you later. Bye."

I disconnected the call and silenced my ringer. Glancing down, I was entirely unsurprised when Selena called back almost immediately, and then five times after that. I couldn’t exactly blame her. For girls who liked different things, we were surprisingly close – or at least we had been.

But distance and time had taken their toll. She'd moved down South five years earlier, and I'd moved on to guys like Rango, who had a way of consuming all my free time. Suddenly, I missed my sister in the same way I missed summer at the end of a long Michigan winter.

If I were being honest, I'd been missing her for a while, but the news about her engagement it was making me heartsick for the relationship we used to have. She'd be planning a wedding soon. Would I even be involved?

With an audible sigh, I tucked my phone back into my purse. 

I snuck a sideways glance at Bianca. She was still tapping at her phone. But now, a faint smile played across her full lips. Had she heard more of the conversation than I thought? I decided not to think about it.

After all, I had way too many other things to think about.