Page 7 of Bastard-in-Chief

“Yes! Thank you Soph, you’re saving my bacon here!” Lauren does a little twirl and kisses me on the cheek, about to dash to the elevator.

“Wait!” I grab her by the arm and pull her close. “I have conditions.”

“Whatever you want.” Lauren’s grin is inches from mine.

“He’s not picking me up. I’ll meet him here.”

“Done. I wouldn’t want him knowing where I live either.”

“He never knows my real name.”

“Obviously.”

“No social media.”

“Tricky, but I can at least promise that there won’t be any inter-company coverage. Mr. Sutton hates to be photographed anyways. I can’t promise though, there’ll probably be press at the event, I can’t control that.”

“Last thing—I get to pick out my dress. I don’t trust you not to dress me in something completely slutty and inappropriate.”

Lauren pouts. “Can I at least help you pick? Otherwise you’ll ruin all my fun.”

I smile at her. “Fine, you can come with. But I have final say.”

“Deal!” Lauren drums her hands on the edge of my desk. “We can make it a girls shopping trip and bring Emma too. You know she’ll love that. Leave it up to me!” With that, she grabs her purse and heads to the elevator bank. “Morning Julian.” She smiles at the security guard and chats with him while she waits for the next elevator to arrive. Slipping inside as the doors open, she blows me a kiss before the doors close on her.

“No, Mom, not that one.”

“Why not?” I turn to look at myself in the mirror again. I love the soft mint color, the billowy long sleeves, and the loose pleated skirt that swishes against my legs. Besides, I could pair this one with flats and a cardigan and it would be perfectly appropriate for work. Bonus points for a dress I can get good use out of.

“I’m with Munchkin on this one. This is a $2,000 a plate gala, you can’t wear a dress you would wear to the office. Next!” Lauren pushes me back into the dressing room. “Strip. This time, I’m picking.”

I reach around to unzip the perfectly nice dress. “I don’t see why I can’t pick something that is at least a little bit practical.” I grumble to myself as I struggle to undo the zipper. I can’t quite reach my arm far enough to get a good grip on the zipper pull, I keep reaching and the pesky little sucker pulls out of my grasp every time, leaving me turning in circles trying to get it.

“Emma!”

Her blonde head pops through the curtain, a cheeky grin on her face. “Yes, Mother? Did you need assistance?”

“You were peeking weren’t you?”

“Can you blame me? You look like a chihuahua chasing its tail.” Emma can’t hide her giggles, despite my best mom look.

“Just unzip me, please.”

My not-so-Mini Me grins over my head in the mirror while I scold her. “A chihuahua? Really? I know I’m fun-sized, but there’s no need to rub it in.”

Ever since Emma shot past me in eighth grade, she’s lorded the extra five inches she has over me. At five foot two, I’m resigned to a life of step stools and using tongs to reach things on the top shelf. Just as she finishes unzipping me, Lauren comes back holding a bright blue sheath dress in her hands. I eye it warily.

“That’s never going to fit me. I have these things called hips and boobs.” I emphasize my point by grabbing the offending body parts. The only article of clothing Lauren and I can share are shoes—she's tall and willowy, while I’m what polite society would call curvy. My hips and thighs mean business.

“Yes it will, trust me.” She shoves the dress at me. “Just try it on, please. And hurry up, I have to pee.”

I stick my tongue out at her before I flick the dressing room curtain closed and step into the dress. I send up a silent prayer of thanks that when we stopped at the house to pick up Emma I didn’t take the time to change out of my work clothes and still have my shapewear on. The slinky blue fabric slips over my thighs and hips with surprising ease. Maybe Lauren wasn’t crazy to grab this one. I pull it up over my stomach, sliding the delicate cap sleeves over my shoulders.

I stall, enjoying the feel of the silky fabric and the perfect fit, not daring to look at myself in the mirror, half-listening to Emma and Lauren flipping through TikTok on Lauren’s phone.

“Mom! Hurry up, I’m starving.”

“Fine, here!” I fling the curtain open, hand on my hip. Emma and Lauren’s open mouths and stunned expressions are the only response I get. “What?”