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need
a manicure and a waxing. Now, there is your towel…and there’s a cup
of coffee on the side table. Get up. You have thirty minutes before
I come in here and drag you out of that bed.”
    This is not how I wanted to start my
Saturday morning. On the one hand, I appreciate the thought, but on
the other hand, I want to smack my sister and go back to sleep. But
in the end, I catch a little of Becca’s excitement, and I decide to
give in. I sit up and take a sip of my coffee. After the night I
had, the hot, fresh brew tastes divine. Divine…and really strong . Becca doesn’t drink coffee very often herself, so
she has never really mastered the art of making the perfect pot.
This time, it tastes like she added a couple shots of espresso, for
good measure. I finish the whole cup before I climb out of bed and
head into the bathroom for a shower. Afterward, as I stand inside
my walk-in closet and stare at my wardrobe, I can understand why
Becca says I need to go shopping. I really don’t have anything
other than business suits in here. A few casual clothes but nothing
really date worthy. I throw on some jeans with my Louis Vuitton
heels and a black, off-the-shoulder top, and I’m ready to go.
     
    For the next hour, Becca drags me up and
down Madison Avenue then Fifth Avenue, until we finally find
ourselves at Saks, which has always been one of my favorite stores.
Becca hands me a sequined, black mini skirt, and I hand it right
back.
    “Just try it on, Lizzy. You want to look hot
tonight.”
    “Yes, I want to look hot but not like a
hooker.”
    “Hookers do not wear this stuff, Lizzy. My
goodness. You know, sometimes you can be downright prudish.”
    Becca turns and walks away to shop some
more—hopefully, for something a little more reasonable—while I try
on a few things myself. Everything I pick out is black or gray or
some other equally dark color. Maybe Becca’s right, and I’m in a
clothes rut. But I can’t help myself; I always feel more
comfortable in dark colors. As I frown at my reflection in the
mirror, Becca comes running up to me with something in her
hand.
    “I found the perfect thing! Here! It’s
black, but it’s so hot, and you will look amazing in it!”
    Becca hands me an asymmetrical dress by ABS.
The cut looks very form fitting, with sheer sleeves covered in
jewels. Although short in the front, the dress hangs long in the
back, so I figure I’ll give it a shot. After all, Becca’s right.
The darn thing is gorgeous. I try it on and instantly go from drab
to fabulous. I look as if this dress were made for me. I rarely
wear skirts or dresses that show this much leg, but right now, as I
study my reflection in the full-length mirror, I can’t tell you why
I don’t. My legs look a mile long, and if I do say so myself, I
look rather amazing. I step out to show Becca and get a second, a
little less partial opinion, and she just about comes out of her
chair.
    “Yes! Oh, Lizzy, you have to buy that
dress. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you!”
    I can’t help but laugh. “I agree. I’m buying
it.”
    She claps her hands, obviously overjoyed.
It’s hilarious to watch her reaction; she’s like a little kid, and
you’d think she were the one going out with a handsome new guy.
    I buy the dress—along with a few other
colorful things that I’m hoping will get me out of my fashion
rut—and we head out to lunch. We stop in Cafe Fiorello, one of our
favorite places, since Becca and I both love Italian, and the
restaurant is close by.
    “So, tell me the truth…are you excited about
tonight? What are you going to do?”
    “Honestly, I don’t know. I still can’t even
believe I said yes. I mean, what was I thinking?”
    “You were probably thinking about how hot he
is and asking yourself why the hell you shouldn’t say yes. I mean,
you don’t seem to have any problems with any of the other guys you
sleep with. Why him?”
    “Alex is intimidating. He’s different. He
almost seems