Heat (The Stark Affair Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

dress
I picked out.
    “It
would be perfect if you were going to a briefing at the Pentagon. Not what we’re
going for here. Off with it. And for God’s sake, relax
your facial expression. I’m getting flashbacks to you in high school. Scary.”
    Jorge
is immaculate in a tight blue shirt with curlicue stitching all around the
buttons. Brown hair with blond highlights slicked back. White pants. Leather
flip-flops. Ray-Bans dangling from the shirt pocket.
    He
sits cross-legged on the leather sofa outside the dressing area, sipping a big,
pink, sloshy drink with a big straw that we picked up
at some big, pink, sloshy drink place he likes.
    “This
is ridiculous!” I say. “I’m no good at this.”
    “Relax, Sofe . Breathe. You’re in the hands of a fashion god.
I can make anyone look hot. Yes, even you. Now go put on the one I picked out.”
    “I’m
not wearing that. I’ll feel naked.”
    “That’s
the point, Sofe . That’s the point.”
    I
sneer at him and return to the dressing room.
    The
dress he picked out for me barely exists. I’m not even sure how in the fuck
hell to put it on.
    “Everything
okay in there?” Jorge says after a few minutes of my losing battle with the
flimsy piece of shiny turquoise fabric. “You didn’t fall into a sinkhole or anything,
did you?”
    “Be right
out,” I say.
    I
slam the curtain aside and put my hands on my hips. Jorge’s face lights up.
    “Oh
baby, that is It with a capital I. Game, set, and if I
dare say so... match.” He takes a big loud sip from his straw.
    The
store employee appears at the opening to the dressing area. She looks about
sixteen with long red curly hair and freckles.
    “How
is everything going in here?” she says in a sparkly voice.
    “Emma,”
says Jorge, “ be honest. This is the one, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,”
says Emma. “ Mmm -hmm. Very hot.”
    “I
don’t even know what’s keeping this up,” I say. “And where am I supposed to put
my gun?”
    Emma
turns around quickly and is gone.
    “You’re
so mean,” Jorge says. “You frightened the poor girl.”
    “I’m
not wearing this!”
    “Fine,
then I’m done here. I’m leaving.”
    “You
can’t go!”
    “ Sofe , you want to attract his attention. That will attract
his attention. Guaranteed. Heck, that would attract my attention if I weren’t so gay and you weren’t the sister who
beat me up continually between the ages of twelve and eighteen.”
    “I
never beat you up!”
    “I
have scars, honey.”
    “Those
were taps. Sisterly love taps.”
    “Keep
telling yourself that. Okay, so that’s the dress. You’re buying it. Now it’s
shoe time.”
    “They
sell shoes here?”
    “Of
course not. God, you really don’t know a thing about shopping, do you?”
    I
give Jorge the finger and storm back into the dressing room, whipping the
curtain shut behind me.

 
    * *
*

 
    One
pair of ill-fitting, awkward shoes with some brand name I can’t even pronounce later,
Jorge and I are walking south to 8th where we’ll turn toward Collins and back
to the floral boutique he and Brad run. I’m a little tense because we’re going
to pass by Heat along the way. Not that anybody would be there at two in the
afternoon.
    “Couple
more pieces of advice,” says Jorge. “Use a bar name, not your real one. Oh, and
fix your walk. You walk like a man.”
    “Shut
the fuck up!”
    “Seriously,
sis. Get the James Bond movie with Halle Berry. Watch the part where she walks
out of the ocean. Then practice that. Swing and sway, swing and sway. Like
this.”
    He
demonstrates with flourish.
    “Fine.
What else?”
    “Hmmm,
let’s see... oh, I know! Do this.” Jorge puts an empty goofy smile on his face,
then tilts his head and pretends to twirl his hair.
    “I
am not doing that!”
    “Well,
your usual face isn’t going to get you anywhere. You want a look that says I’m horny and I’m stupid . Yours says Talk to me and I’ll kill you . Not what
we want. It’s head-tilt, giggle, twirl