7 - Friday Night pt. 2
She let herself slip into a high just thinking about her dress. Her heart beat faster, her chest hurt vaguely with that wonderful hurt that felt as though it was heated from the inside. She was so in love with her new dress. She found it online, lazily scrolling, and once she saw the shimmering fabric, the cut, the way it fit the model’s body which was slim like hers, she knew she must have it. She had not shown it to Wolf, but she knew he would love it. Totally worth the hundred sixteen dollars.
As soon as they got home, she tossed her keys on the kitchen island and rushed to her room. Rummaging with shaking hands through her back of the closet, found the dress, red as blood, shimmering as a river of fire with flecks of orange. She shivered just looking at it.
She hurriedly tossed her clothes on the bed and put on the dress. She laughed to find it actually fit, and admired herself in the mirror.
She sighed softly. She loved the high, she loved to feel beautiful.
The door to the bathroom slammed open, and somebody rapped rudely on the door. “Oi sweet,” Wolf called. “I know you like to admire yourself. But we’re gonna be late if you take five hundred hours getting ready! It’s close to starting.”
A panic spread through her chest. She had not done her hair, or nails, or face. “Then don’t give me so little time!” she cried.
“It’s your evil job.”
“I need that promotion!” She ran her fingers through her hair, wondering how best to let her hair flow as the shimmery dress.
~
“You keep getting better and better.”
She had spent half an hour (a new record for her) painting her nails blood red to match the dress, meticulously applying lipstick of the same color. Doing her hair took the longest after red mascara and choosing which pair of high heels. She had curled it then took half in a bun, letting the rest fall about her shoulders like spilling waves. It was far more stunning than the general straight hair she had, a fact she hated.
His get up was pretty intense too. Hot new leather jacket, raven black as his pants and boots, gold chain, his forge-fire orange hair tousled in that way he somehow always managed to keep it. He generally left his jacket open, this time sporting a tight, red shirt that matched her dress. What was on it was not worth repeating.
He snapped his fingers, startling her, after a few seconds of reciprocal and silent hungry admiration. “I know it’s good,” he said, “but we have to go. You can admire me later.”
“O right.” She expertly gathered her floor-length dress in a way that made good use of the slit to make walking easy.
They went quickly to the red sports car he had parked this time in the lot. His spirits apparently as high as hers, he began a song, (one she knew too, of course) as he typically did before a big event. She grinned to hear Gemstones of Blood, and joined in when he turned his head to stare expectantly at her. He always had her sing with him.
Red as blood, the gemstones of my desire,
Red as blood, the edge of white cloth,
Little drops that glisten in the light of moon
Red as blood, gemstones upon the pyre
She only half understood the songs, but didn’t care, there was a heck good beat.
They were there before she knew it. The ride to the fancy casino in the back of town where their parties were always hosted lasted about the length of one good long Ghostride song, or two Neverwhite songs.
The party was already under way when they came through the grand entrance. As usual, the room was reserved for them tonight. The men were already laughing and drinking and fighting and flirting with the women they brought with them. They may not have been treated well from what Frankie saw, but as the gf of the boss, she had a bit of status. She wasn’t a prisoner of the Romans tossed to the lions.