Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Laughter bursts from me. I’ve never met anyone like Gerald and instantly like him.
Minutes later, Gerald slaps my hand for the fifth time as I reach for another shimmery top.
“Na-a. I said no. There’s no way you’re leaving my store looking like a disco ball.”
I have no idea what a disco ball is, but I can’t stop smiling. My cheeks hurt, my worries from earlier forgotten.
Dawn’s sitting on the counter watching us. She points at a row of black clothes, which makes me scowl and shake my head.
“If you’re gonna be fighting, then you need something simple, but it must scream, look at me, I’m fucking hot,” Gerald says as he searches through the clothes. “Catch my drift?”
I nod and grin, feeling relaxed.
He takes a black top down and shoves it in my hands. I let out a sigh but head off to the dressing room to try it on.
The top fits so tight it gives me a cleavage I didn’t even know I had. The fabric moves when I move, and it’s super comfortable. Thin straps cross over my shoulders and then across my back, leaving most of my back exposed.
One thing’s for sure, I won’t get hot wearing this. My shoulders and back feel too exposed, but I shove the feeling deep down.
Without any warning, Gerald rips the curtain open. His eyes lock on my chest, then he gives me a pleased smile.
“See, it says you’re gonna kick ass before kissing ‘em all better afterward.”
“Uhm…” I scrunch my nose. “I’m not so sure I want it to say that.”
I tug at the top, but he slaps my hand away.
“Stop fidgeting. Now for pants.”
He disappears, only to pop back in a couple of seconds later. He throws a pair of charcoal-colored pants at me. Placing a hand on his hip, he stares at me with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” I ask.
“Come on. I don’t have all day. You have nothing I haven’t seen before, and I don’t swing that way.”
My cheeks warm as I shimmy out of my jeans.
Gerald squeals and covers his eyes.
I freeze.
“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You’ll send a man running if he sees those panties. Where on Earth did you get those rags?” Before I can answer him, he slaps the curtain out of his way and rushes back to the front of the store.
I stand holding up my jeans, so they cover my underwear, and seconds later, Gerald returns with a slip of fabric that can’t possibly cover all of my private parts. My cheeks burn bright.
It’s black and see-through, not cream and plain like the ones I’m wearing now.
Gerald shoves the fabric at me, then gives me privacy as he steps out of the cubicle.
With a sigh, I drag the flimsy fabric up my legs. The thing doesn’t even cover my butt cheeks. I quickly pull on the pants, then look at my reflection in the mirror.
The pants sit tight, and just like the top, the fabric moves when I move. There are patches torn out on the side of each pant leg, ten holes from my ankles to my hip, to be exact.
Even though I’m showing a lot of skin, the outfit boosts my confidence.
Gerald yanks the curtain back, and I twirl for him, making him grin like a proud mother.
“That’s better, but you still need a lot of work.” My grin fades.
Out front, Dawn smiles brightly when she sees me. “Hello, hot mamma. You look amazing.”
Gerald hands me a pair of socks and boots. I sit down on the floor and put them on. When I stand up, I smile so wide it hurts. The boots are much more comfortable than the sneakers.
And honestly, I feel like a powerful woman in the outfit.
“Come on,” Dawn’s already walking to the door. “Let’s head over to Big Joe so he can do something about your hair.”
Gerald kisses me on each cheek. “I’ll see y’all at dinner.”
“Thank you so much.” I resist the urge to hug him before I follow Dawn out of the clothing store.
When we walk into one of the hairdressers, Dawn says, “Honey, I brought you someone. This is Jai.”
Big Joe, who’s as short as Gerald, stares at my hair. “How fond are you of your hair?”
My stomach bunches into a tight knot because I’ve never had short hair. “Not too fond.”
“Good, 'cause that shit has to go.” He points to a chair. “Sit.”
I glance at Dawn, who reassures me with a nod.
When I sit down, Big Joe comes to stand behind me. He lifts my hair and inspects it. “You have a pretty little neck you’re hiding.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling a little out of place because I don’t know what to make of Big Joe.
The chair tips back, and I pinch my eyes shut as he washes my hair. After he squeezes most of the water out, he picks up a pair of scissors and a comb and starts cutting big chunks of my hair.