ebon black hair from his forehead.
“It’s not often we have two days off during the week. I say we take advantage of it.” Oscar looks at me like he wishes I’d keel over and die. Hael just whistles under his breath and slips past me, heading for the kitchen to grab a beer. “Let’s go get the wedding dress.”
“The wedding dress?” I ask, feeling my stomach dip. “I …” I have no good excuse to get out of this. This is what I signed up for, isn’t it?
“Do it,” Vic says, closing the sliding door and locking it. “Let me get changed first.”
“You can’t pick out the dress with me,” I scoff, feeling my palms get sweaty. “It’s bad luck.”
“Bad luck?” Vic echoes, and Oscar smirks, noting his boss’ discomfort and probably enjoying it, too.
“Bernadette is right. It’s bad luck to see a bride in her wedding dress before the wedding. I’ll take her.” Oscar tucks the iPad under his arm. “Assuming she won’t try to choke me while we’re out.”
“Don’t press your luck, and I won’t have to,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest and returning Oscar’s hard stare.
“I really can’t go?” Vic asks, looking confused as fuck. He glances between Oscar and me, his gaze lingering on my lips. I wet them subconsciously, and he closes his eyes. Maybe, like me, he’s thinking about our quickie and wondering what it’d be like if we both gave in, if we took our time. “Fine, what the fuck ever. I want this wedding done right. Go.”
He opens his eyes again and looks right at me, but I can’t hold his gaze. When I do, I feel my armor start to break apart, and all these little worries and fears and wants and desires begin to creep in and tease my aching flesh.
“Let’s go,” Oscar says, giving Hael’s beer a look. “Give me your keys; I’ll drive.”
“Don’t you fucking scratch that fresh paint,” Hael warns, but he hands over the keys to his precious Camaro like it’s nothing.
I consider saying goodbye to Heather, but then I hear her faux screaming something about dragons and decide to let her be. Sometimes, you just want to be left alone inside your fantasy.
I fully expect our ‘shopping’ trip to take place in a trailer full of stolen goods, much like it did when we went to get the luncheon dress. Instead, Oscar takes me to a proper bridal shop. I end up standing on the sidewalk outside the doors, soaked in sweat and shaking with nerves.
This is a job, I tell myself, but like the sex with Vic, it doesn’t feel that way at all.
“Problem, Bernadette?” Oscar chides, standing next to me and smirking in that irritating way of his. He’s of the devil, I’m certain of it.
“No,” I snap, more for my own benefit than for his, and then I push in the front doors, a small bell tinkling happily as I move across the shiny wood floors and pause in a sea of white. Why do people get married in white again? Oh, that’s right. It’s supposed to denote virginity. I have to hold back a snort of nervous laughter.
“Don’t worry about the price of the dress,” Oscar says, leaning down and putting his lips awfully close to my ear. His breath feathers against my skin, and I shiver. He barely spoke to me on the way over here, and I get the feeling he doesn’t like me much. “Just pick something that calls to you.”
“Calls to me?” I ask as a perky sales attendant in a khaki skirt and pale pink blouse flounces her way over to me. Her smile is practically plastered on, but I can see it straining at the edges as she takes in the pair of tattooed kids in her shop, undoubtedly here to waste her time.
“Hello there,” she says, never allowing her professional façade to drop, despite the fact that she’s certain we’re not going to buy anything. “Can I help you with something?”
“We’re here to get a wedding dress for my lovely companion,” Oscar says, placing his hands on the small of my waist and making me shiver. I can feel each one of his fingertips pressing into that tantalizing bit of bare skin between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my jeans. “She’s a size eight in commercial clothing. Thirty-eight, twenty-eight, forty measurements.”
I grit my teeth and resist the urge to elbow him in the stomach. I have a