Instantly at ease with this friendly young woman, Jess shook her hand and returned the smile. “Thanks. That’s quite a compliment. Are you Molly Sloan?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Way to be professional, Mol,” she muttered. Then, “Yes, I’m Molly. You’re not, like, really early, are you?”
Jess took out her phone. “No. A few minutes late, actually.” Because of the delay in the elevator. Silently she added another black mark to her Derry rating card. It was already largely filled in because of the way he’d unbalanced her right before her first day on the job. Now she might be late too.
“Then we’d better hurry.” She rubbed her hands together. “Lilah said you were similar to her in size, but your style is all different. I put a few things together for you already to try on.”
“I’m larger than Lilah.”
Molly waved her hand as if this was of no importance. “I hope you like what I picked out for you. After we get you dressed, we’ll do shoes.”
“I wear a really unusual size…”
Molly laughed. “That’s just what your sister said. I swear, you two are such pessimists. Have faith in the Magic of Molly.” She walked over to one of the small doors in the back and opened up a small dressing room. “I’ve already put the outfits inside.”
“But how could you possibly have the right size? You just met me.”
“I told you. Lilah described you.”
“But—she can’t even buy me a sweater that fits me, and she’s known me my whole life.”
Molly gave her a cheerful frown and pulled her inside. “Molly Magic. You’ll see.”
With a sigh, Jess gave up, closed the door, and undressed to try on the first thing she saw, almost looking forward to proving Molly wrong.
But she couldn’t. The cream silk blouse fit her perfectly. And then the vest with the silver buttons inlaid with some kind of red jewel, like fake rubies, hugged her curves like a tailored suit. With dread, she reached for the pants. Surely those couldn’t fit—the inseam would be short, or the hips too narrow. But she slid them on, gasping as they fit her like a second skin.
She looked in the mirror. The clothes had men’s styling but a woman’s fit. Having expected an uncomfortable cocktail dress that would leave her inner thighs chafing and her tomboy soul annoyed, she was ridiculously happy.
“What do you think?” Molly called.
Not afraid to admit she was wrong, Jess flung the door open. “It’s perfect. You are magic.”
Molly’s round cheeks flushed pink. She grinned. “You like it?”
“I love it. How did you—never mind. I got it. The Magic of Molly.”
Bubbles of laughter trailed behind Molly as she led her over to the racks of shoes. “I was imagining something with a little color. I hope you agree.”
Now that she was a believer, Jess didn’t argue. “Whatever you say.” She wiggled her toes into the plush rug near the shoes. “Size eleven, please.”
Molly handed her a pair of tiny socks that felt like angel’s wings, then a box.
“I left my clothes in the room,” Jess said, sitting down and putting on the socks.
“They’ll be there at the end of your shift when you go—”
“Oh my God.” Jess drew out a pair of black slippers with ruby-red bows that somehow were both masculine and over-the-top girly-girl. “I was afraid you were going to make me wear heels.”
“Not on your first night. We’ll go easy on you.”
Jess put them on, rolling her eyes. “They fit.”
“Of course they do.”
“You are—well, you’re magic!”
Beaming, Molly clapped her hands together. “Let’s do your hair and makeup, then you’ve got to book it upstairs. You don’t want to get on Eva’s bad side.”
Jess nodded and sat patiently as Molly got out a box of creams and brushes and makeup, then began applying them.
“Let’s put your hair in a tight ponytail,” Molly said. “To go with the suit. If it bothers you, we’ll leave it loose tomorrow.”
“I’ll be fine. I like it tied back.”
Molly brushed and sprayed and made appreciative noises. Then she gestured for Jess to get to her feet and looked her up and down. “That looks even better than I’d hoped it would. Wow. You’re going to have to beat them off with a stick.” She frowned. “Which you will—did they mention that? No dating the members?”
As if that had worked for Lilah, Jess thought. But aloud she said, “That won’t be a problem. I’m not interested in dating anyone.”
“Really?” Molly sighed. “I am. I love getting out, doing things. It’s ironic I’m stuck down here.”
Jess felt a pang of sympathy. “Have you ever asked to work up in the club?”
“Oh, no thanks. I’d go crazy with all those gorgeous men all over the place. I’m safer down here.”
“If I meet anyone, I’ll be sure to introduce you,” Jess said.
Blushing, Molly waved that idea aside. “I can’t date members either. But thanks.” She glanced at a clock on the far wall. “It’s time! Come on, this elevator can be slow. I call it Old Ironsides. Swear it’s even older.”
Within three minutes, Jess was walking onto the service elevator, thankful her annoying future brother-in-law wasn’t on board again.
“Thanks so much, Molly.” She began to wave good-bye.
“My pleasure! But don’t worry, I’m coming up with you to show you around.” Molly scurried between the closing doors.
Jess smiled with gratitude. For some reason, the thought of being alone in that elevator made her even more nervous.
The move from the subterranean Novo Club to the upstairs Platinum Club had come at a price for Derry.
That price was annoyance. Unbridled frustration coursed through his veins like thousands of mosquitoes feasting off him from the inside out. Normally calm and breezy, he had come into this obnoxious state of unrest recently and was doing his best to drown it out.
One ounce of fine whisky at a time.
He looked at his watch, surprised by the bare skin. He forgot he didn’t wear a watch any longer, as it was no longer stylish. Digging into his breast pocket, he looked at his phone.
Late. She was late.
Derry lounged in a chair two sizes too small for him with a glass of whisky that was also too small. He lifted his hand a few inches, the movement so subtle it might have been an accident.
A willowy figure, tall, blonde, and delicious, appeared at his side.
“Another drink, Mr. Stanton?” Gillian was one of the servers, a tall, Swedish morsel with eyes bluer than a Caribbean pool and tits that plastic surgeons used as a model for desperate patients. Too bad they were fake, but they were a work of art in their own right.
He’d had a sample. Or ten.
She winked, making it clear she knew what he was thinking. Or, rather, that she thought she knew.
He sighed and lifted the ice-filled glass. “Thank you. Yes. A double this time.”
Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly, the movement of her face muscles bringing out one tiny dimple. She had those in her ass, too. That fine, upside-down, heart-shaped ass that seemed chiseled from marble covered in silk.