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to tell her about my date, so I did.
    “Really?” Janine gave me that wide, toothy smile again. “Someone special?”
    I shrugged and lowered my gaze demurely. “We’ll see.”
    “So it’s a first date then?”
    “Yes.”
    “How did you meet him? Or is it a blind date?”
    “Yes, it’s a blind date. My friend set me up with him.”
    “Well, let’s hope it goes well. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
    “Thanks,” I said, thinking how amazingly quickly the senator had gone from grumpy to pleasant. I was about to tell her that she should do another set of leg presses when my eyes suddenly caught Emma. The pregnant girl was walking in our direction. The way the leg press was positioned on the floor blocked the senator from Emma’s view.
    I tried to look away so I could pretend not to have seen Emma. That day in the restroom in which Emma had dashed into one of the stalls was still fresh in my mind. While I was dying to figure out what kind of a person hid behind the senator’s polished exterior, I thought it wiser to keep Emma and Janine apart for now.
    But it was too late because Emma was waving at me now and smiling as she approached.
    “Hi, Jamie, how’s it going?” she said as she was right in front of me.
    “Hi, Emma,” I replied, doing my best not to look like I was in as chatty a mood as Emma seemed to be.
    “Are you done soon?” Emma asked and then her eyes fell on the senator, who was staring coolly at the chunky girl.
    Like that first time, Emma went pale and the smile on her face disappeared in an instant. “Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    Before either I or the senator could say anything Emma was on her way again.
    “Are you two good friends?” Janine asked, a peculiar expression on her face.
    “Not really,” I replied, not sure why I felt that it was the better reply.
    “Good,” Janine said and did another set of leg presses.
    ***
    Ian insisted that we go to Bergdorf Goodman to shop for a dress and shoes for me, so that’s where we ended up at five o’clock later that day. I only had two hours before my appointment to get my hair blown out and in this time we had to not only find a dress and shoes for me, but also get my nails done. Needless to say, we were pressed for time and had to move quickly. A slender, elegant woman in her thirties came up to us as we entered the women’s department and asked if we’d like a personal shopper to help us find what we needed.
    “That’s alright,” Ian said. “I’m her personal shopper.” He jabbed a thumb in my direction.
    “I understand,” the woman said and I could tell that she was struggling not to wrinkle her nose. “Best of luck to you.”
    “Come on,” Ian said and took my hand before I could stop him, pulling me deeper into the huge luxury department store. He moved with so much confidence and ease from one designer display area to the next that he just had to have frequented stores like this one often.
    We finally stopped at the area where Donatella Versace showcased her clothes. While Ian flipped through a rack of incredible dresses, I discreetly took a peek at the sales tag on one of them and nearly choked when I saw how much it cost.
    $3,999.

    Clearing my throat, I let go of it. Well, for a man that could afford a suit that cost $75,000, four grand must be almost cheap, I reminded myself.
    “Try on these three,” Ian said behind me. I turned around to face him. He was holding three tiny dresses in his hands, two black ones and one red. “I think they’ll all look great on you. I’ll be outside the dressing room so you can show me how they fit.”
    “Thanks,” I said and took them from him, scanning our surroundings for a dressing room.
    “They’re right over there,” Ian said and indicated a sign in a corner.
    “Oh,” I said and hurried over there.
    It took me less than a minute to slip into the first black one—it was a tube dress that ended mid-thigh and left very little to the