“What the hell are you wearing?” Indie arrived just as I returned to my office from the ladies’ room on Wednesday evening. “A new outfit. For my date tonight.” “You’re dressed like a sixty-year-old grandmother of nine about to go to church.” I totally was. Some of it I’d actually had to purchase just for the occasion. The Goodwill store on Seventy-Second Street was perfect—a bag full of granny goods for under twenty bucks. I caught my reflection in the glass window. Oversized navy corduroy blazer. Navy elastic waist polyester pants (pretty damn comfortable). Cream-cotton-and-doily-lace button-up blouse, buttoned up to the top, of course. A string of fake pearls. Hair pulled back in a tight bun. Worn penny loafers. (Okay, so those might have been mine.) I patted my bun and rolled on som