That makes me feel better, especially since Gwen made it sound like me not being able to do that makes me the lowest of the ghetto scum.
Elizabeth drives us up Wilshire Boulevard and past Rodeo Drive. I glance at the street as we go past. One more block and she turns, turns again, and pulls into a parking structure. There’s not a mall in sight.
“Are we going shopping on Rodeo?” I ask, slightly nervous. There’s no way I can buy anything that comes from there.
“Oh, heavens no. Too many tourists.” Elizabeth finds a slot, cuts the engine and exits the car. I do the same as Tolyan’s SUV pulls in next to the Lamborghini. He jumps out lightly.
“The very best for your girl,” Elizabeth says with a bright smile.
I flinch, but Tolyan’s expression—flat to begin with—doesn’t change.
I should say something. I don’t want him thinking I told Elizabeth we’re dating or something. “I’m not—”
“Oh, hush. Don’t forget what I said in the car.” She loops her arm around mine and leads me back out onto the street.
Oh my God, no! Now he’s really going to think I said something I shouldn’t have!
But Elizabeth is like a tornado, dragging me along without giving me a chance to say anything. We pass a couple of restaurants and boutiques, coming to one with a French name in small cursive lettering. A bell tinkles as we go in, as though wind is blowing through small chimes.
Tolyan follows half a step behind. I feel his presence like a burning furnace at my back. I wish I could talk to him about correcting Elizabeth’s misperception, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to talk. Or maybe he doesn’t think it matters what Elizabeth assumes. Either way, I don’t like it.
The interior is indirectly lit with dark brown walls and flooring. There are scallop chairs sitting next to the walls and freestanding racks of brightly colored clothes here and there. One wall is composed of recessed squares, and inside each square rests a single shoe, each with its own tiny spotlight. There are black-and-white photographs on the other walls, head or body shots of fashion icons of the past. Soft classical music is playing, and the air smells expensive and elegant.
Tolyan sweeps the area with his eyes. Two leggy, fashionably dressed women standing by the register desk fidget a bit when his gaze lands on them. I don’t blame them. He is gorgeous, and radiates a kind of danger that makes your heart beat faster and calls to you.
He looks past them, like he doesn’t notice their reaction. But I know him well enough now to understand he misses nothing.
For some weird reason, his cool dismissal puts a spring in my step.
A tall blonde woman walks out. A gorgeous red dress wraps around her slim body, cinched with a thin silver belt. Something about the way she holds herself and moves says, “Europe.”
“Elizabeth, so good to see you,” she says in a dulcet voice. Sure enough, there’s an accent. “I was thrilled when I got your call.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. You know how much I love to shop.”
“I do.” They exchange quick air kisses, then the blonde woman pulls back. “I have a bottle of the best vodka for you. A client from Russia brought it, but you know I don’t do vodka.”
“Then of course I’ll have some. But no more than a glass. I’m driving.”
“You can take the bottle with you.” She turns my way, her dark eyes doing a quick, sweeping assessment as I stand awkwardly. Surprise flashes as she sizes me up like merchandise. But almost immediately, a friendly, professional mask settles over her face. “Hello. My name is Monique,” she says, giving me a charming smile.
“Hi. Angelika.” I’m the worst dresser in the group by far, and I don’t want to do anything to embarrass Tolyan or Elizabeth. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is entirely mine. So, shall we get started? It looks as though we have a lot of territory to cover.”
“We sure do,” Elizabeth says.
Monique turns to one of the assistants. “Make Tolyan comfortable. This is going to take a while.”
Chapter Fifteen
Angelika
Monique and Elizabeth whisk me down a hall into a huge, airy room with mirrors everywhere. There are two love seats. Tolyan takes the one in the corner and starts tapping on his tablet. Elizabeth takes the one in the center and sits down, her legs crossed. I debate between the two, then decide I should probably join her, since Tolyan’s busy with his gadget.
Before I can take a step toward Elizabeth, Monique pulls me toward her gently and looks me over, much more thoroughly this time. I look up at the ceiling, hating that I’m being inspected. I wish I were in something nicer, except I don’t have anything nicer. At least I’m not naked or anything, although Monique’s gaze has the power to make me feel more naked than a mannequin.
She then turns to her assistants and tells them my sizes, including my bra.