LATER THAT EVENING, I went down to the lobby to meet Louise for dinner. She’d texted and told me she made reservations at a fancy place, but I hadn’t asked if Beck was joining. When I asked the dress code, she told me to wear the royal blue dress I’d bought at a cute little boutique the other night. It was a slinky, one-shoulder number with a curve-hugging bodice and slit that probably could’ve used two-sided tape so I didn’t get arrested again. I paired it with the set of heels I’d brought that matched anything—four-inch silver stilettos with a thin strap that wrapped around the ankle. A few heads turned as I waited, and it made me feel good after the last week in grungy beach and travel wear. Sometimes I forgot how much I enjoyed indulging my feminine side.
I’d told myself I’d gotten al
