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don’t even recognize her because I’m so used to that damn ponytail and the girl before me is, well, sleek. Her boring brown hair is rich and coppery and makes her green eyes pop. Even with the dumb glasses.
    The makeup I now realize she’s wearing doesn’t hurt either.
    “Waaaay better,” I say, throwing her a thumbs up.
    She tosses her hair in a flirty way. “I like,” she beams.
    “Good. This is a very solid first step.”
    Ally gets a horrified look on her face when she realizes where we’re going. “The mall?” she screeches. “No way, Jose.”
    I stop, cross my arms, and face her with the most patient expression I can. “Who is the veritable master?”
    “I’m sorry I ever said that,” she grumbles.
    “But you admit you did say it?”
    Grudgingly, she nods.
    I cup my ear. “What’s that? ‘Yes, O great Master.’”
    “Don’t push it, buddy. You forget that I have a few incriminating photos of you.”
    True. I hustle her into the mall, enjoying her look of horror as we pass trendy store after trendy store.
    “I thought I said I wouldn’t wear—”
    “Planet destroying clothing. Yeah. That’s why we’re going here.”
    I pull her inside a bright store with electronica playing. “Everything is sustainable and they pay people properly to make it.”
    Ally fingers a shirt doubtfully. “Really? But it’s…”
    “Something earthlings wear in this century? Still true, though. Check. That shirt is bamboo.”
    Taking advantage of the gleam of interest I see in her eyes, I load her up with outfits and send her off to the changing room.
    One thing about Al is she’s super efficient. Even when trying on clothes.
    In no time, she’s jumping in front of me with a “ta da” flourish, outfitted in leggings, a short skirt, and a shirt that doesn’t look like a box.
    “Holy shit. You’ve got an ass!” I exclaim.
    She turns beet red and mutters something that I don’t think I can anatomically achieve.
    “While I’m thrilled you are really human-shaped and not a hempy lump, the bra has to go.” I point at her plain, whitish bra visible under the top.
    Ally glances down at herself. “What? It’s comfortable. It’s the right size.”
    “The bra is ruining the view. Besides, what do you want guys to think when they see you topless? ‘That looks comfy?’”
    “Of course not. I want them incapable of thought. All the better to lead them with.”
    “Bossy tendencies aside, that’s the right attitude. Lingerie it is. With color. Lace. Pushup. All that underwire goodness.”
    She fiddles nervously with her hair. “I dunno. That’s so half-naked and ‘bring it on.’”
    “Exactly.”
    There’s something still wrong with the picture. My eyes narrow and I concentrate until it hits me. The glasses. I take them off. “Contacts too. You don’t want to accidentally burst some guy into flame from the reflected rays of the sun. Bad foreplay.”
    “I’m blind.”
    “Just that much easier for me to lead you.”
    I tuck the glasses carefully into my pocket.
    The good thing about the mall is that the lingerie store is right there. So I don’t have too far to drag her.
    It’s a small boutique selling upscale lingerie. I figure the more personalized service will put her at ease. Plus, while it’s slightly more expensive, their stuff is made in this country, which I know she’ll be happy about.
    Since there is no way I’m going to pick out bras for Ally, I send her off with a Barbie doll looking salesgirl, who leads her to the change cubicles for measuring purposes.
    It’s the kind of place where the cubicles are just at the back, not hidden away or anything, so I can clearly hear her tell Ally she’s got the wrong size.
    “So much for ‘right fit,’” I point out.
    The selection that salesgirl brings back looks perfect for our needs. I stand outside the cubicle eyeing the large rack of colorful bras, which lines the opposite wall.
    I’ve seen more than a few of them up close and