Page 21 of For Her
That earns me another scoff as he slides hangers across the rack, looking for what he wants.
“Please. Have you learned nothing in the last year and a half I’ve been dressing you? You’re not the first pregnant celebrity I’ve dressed, oh ye of little faith. Besides, you’re one of those lucky lasses that grows a cute volley ball of a tummy and stays trim everywhere else. Now, try this on,” he says holding out a long black leather gown and jerking his head towards the changing screen in the corner.
Once behind the screen, I slip into a floor length gown that is all smooth black leather on the outside and looks uncomfortable as hell, but I’m amazed at how it feels. As I pull it up my body, I’m surprised to find that the inside lining is of a cotton jersey material that feels soft against my skin. I can’t help but wonder if the inside of Jack’s pants feels this way too. The material is also stretchy, allowing plenty of movement.
When I have the garment straightened around my waist and my boobs tucked in, I call for Enrique.
“I’m ready to be zipped!” I hear two claps of his hands and one of his many helping hands scurries around the corner with a smile that says she’s all too eager to help. I smile back and turn to face away so that she can get the zipper worked up. I feel it go about halfway up before I teeth start grabbing slower and I can feel resistance.
“Boss?” the assistant calls. “It’s stalled at the midpoint.”
“Ugghh,” I hear the perpetual scoffer scoff on the other side of the screen. “I had a feeling. Wifey, out of the dress and hand it over. Sheila, go fetch my sewing kit.”
“It’s Britney.”
“Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe, go!”
He can really be a little bitch sometimes.
I sling the dress over the partisan and stand awkwardly in my strapless bra and panties until I spot a silky robe on a hook. I snatch it and wrap it around me as much as I can before peeking around the corner to find Enrique snipping and poking at the inside seam of the dress with a look of calm concentration on his face.
“You know, I can’t help but notice you’re not the high-energy version of yourself I’m used to.”
“I quit energy drinks,” he explains without looking up.
“Oh…” I muse, considering this. He’s always had a peppy enough personality without the caffeine… that made him an overwhelming presence.
“Yeah, remember Chris’s birthday party? How he got hopped up on BLASTS all day long and then spontaneously crashed, literally and figuratively, into his cake?”
He blows out a whistle and shakes his head as I nod.
“Sister, on my way out the next morning, he was still face down and snoring in that cake, and I thought to myself,Enrique… don’t let that be you, baby.”
That’s about as profound as you’re going to get from this guy.
“Alright, Baby Doll,” he finally looks up and hands the dress delicately over to me before turning to put his emergency sewing tools away. “I let it out. Go see how that works.”
This time when I slip into the gown, it fits like a glove as the poor recipient of Enrique’s tough love zips me up. When I walk back out into the open room, he leads me over to the three-way mirror he’s had set up, and I have to say, this is hot. It’s elegant and glamorous but with a dominantly edgy flare. The bodice is smooth and seamless until it reaches just below my barely there bump, as if it’s cradling it. The rest of the dress fans out below in wide pleats and swirls, and swishes while I walk.
As I stand there, Enrique brings over a long, looped chain with large links and brings it down over my body like a lasso. He secures it to hang around my waist while the other end of it dangles down the side of my dress. He then adorns my wrists with black leather cuffs with silver studs lining them, and a matching choker around my neck that has a… silver hoop on it?
“What’s this? It looks a little out of place,” I mention, fiddling with the little loop in the mirror as Enrique straightens up holding another silver chain. This one is long and resembles the one around my waist but has a clasp on it.
“Absolutely fucking not!” Jack declares as he marches up to us, pulling on a black leather sports coat to complete his ensemble. His hair has the perfectly fucked look. “I am not escorting the mother of my child to the Grammys on a damn leash!”
Oh.
Enrique drops his hands holding the choke chain and feebly sighs.
“You guys never let me have any fun.”
Jack
Enrique can be a lot to take in and has some ass-crazy ideas - like suggesting I bring my wife to the Grammys on a chain, but he’s damn good at doing the impossible, which is making her look more stunning than she already is.
Mayzie is fucking glowing at my side. She looks like the edgy, badass rock wife, all except for the warm smile she wears on her lips that one of the stylists painted a dark wine color. Her grey eyes dazzle in the camera flashes as I keep an arm securely wrapped around her waist, as the photographers shout at us from the other side of the velvet rope along the red carpet. She looks incredible in her leather gown too, which shows just a hint that she’s got my baby inside of her.
We’re meandering along behind Matt and Melanie, who as Enrique promised, are garbed in a blue metallic material. My sister looks nervous, as this is her first red carpet appearance, but Matt has a secure hold on her and leans in a lot to whisper in her ear, I’m assuming to reassure her. She’s in good hands. Just behind Maze and I are Chris and Rebecca, while Josh and his surprising date bring up the rear. Enrique wasn’t joking when he said a date was being scrounged up for him. I’m just shocked that of all people it’s Bobbi, one of our assistants. I won’t go there.