You can't avoid home forever. At some point, you have to walk back through the door and face the quiet, the shadows, the ghost of decisions and stories past. But that doesn't stop you from avoiding home whenever there is unpleasantness there. You suddenly become social, pick up more work hours, or find new places to call home. But eventually, you run out of excuses, clothes, or money and have to head back.
Pretending my house wasn't full of painful memories and ignoring the closed door that hadn't been touched in years, I made a beeline for the shower, bolting past the shadows that tried to tug me back to the past.
It was five-thirty in the morning by the time I had washed away the previous night and hit the restart button by yanking on my flannel pajamas and crawling into bed. Burrowing under the quilted blanket on my twin bed in the room I used to share with Allie, I took a page out of Misty's book and typed in "ACE WALKER," onto my phone's search engine, falling into a virtual rabbit hole of stalkin— detective work.
Ace Walker himself wasn't considered well known, but his family name sure was. His brother was a famous actor and his parents owned an established law firm, along with several businesses all under the WALKER name. In short Ace Walker was part of an Empire Family.
Why would a Walker go on a reality tv show? Empire families were very careful with how they were perceived. And going on a reality show didn't guarantee you would walk out looking like a likable character. And more than that, Empire Families were extremely careful about who they let join their family empire.
What's your game Coffee Guy? Are you the black sheep of your family? Do they not care about your reputation? Do you not care about your reputation? He seemed smart enough when I met him. Clever even. So it isn't a decision made by an idiot... I'm just missing something bigger here.
A publicity stunt seemed pointless. The Walker's were well known and didn't need the attention or the money. So what was it? Why reality tv? It didn't line up with his prim and proper family.
Before I could look more into Ace Walker, and how I could possibly make him fall in love with me after I had been a major pain in the span of a five-minute conversation, I fell asleep, the caffeine in my veins finally bowing to the melatonin running through my veins.
...
Lifting a beat-up duffle bag over my shoulder, I made it as far as my porch before I spotted the new addition to my worn-down driveway.
"Decker... I am starting to wonder if I should get a restraining order," I muttered, dropping my bag on the porch.
He was leaning against my car like he owned it, sporting a pair of aviators making it impossible to see his eyes. His white t-shirt did little to hide the tattoos that decorated his arms and parts of his chest. Ink black stories he never talked about.
"Have I already been fired?" I asked, hand on hip, leveling him with a stare.
Decker lifted the sunglasses off of his nose, glancing at my clothes, trying not to laugh. "Depends... is that what you plan on wearing to your 'introductory encounter.'"
I glanced down at my mustard yellow sleeveless t-shirt, black flannel wrapped around my waist, black skinny jeans, and worn black converse with confusion. "What's wrong with this?"
Decker swore, muttering something under his breath about being an impossible task before he pushed off my car. The car screeched in protest at being manhandled, before falling silent again. "It's a formal event," he said, stopping at the bottom of my porch.
I raised a brow. "As in..."
He grinned widely, dropping his sunglasses back in place and shaking his head. "Nice clothes? A dress? Do you own one?"
I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. "I own dresses."
He walked up the steps and tapped my duffle bag with his foot. "Did you pack any?"
I pursed my lips. "No."
"Which is why I am here," he replied, yanking my bag off the ground and walking into my house without so much as an invitation.
"Excuse me, what—"
He dropped the bag on my coffee table before walking into my kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He took a long sip, staring at me all the while, thinking. Then taking off his sunglasses and shoving them into his pants pocket, he set the coffee cup down. "If you have ONE outfit in that duffle bag that is good enough to be seen on TV and make you BLEND in with the rest of the people on the show, then I will walk out the door without a word. But..."
He plucked up his cup of coffee and sat down on the living room couch, sprawling out comfortably. "If you don't have anything, then I am calling in a designer who will help you not look like... well yourself."
"I look perfectly fine," I replied through gritted teeth.
"That isn't the issue. It's not a matter of lacking outer beauty. It's a matter of convincing others that you are one of the contestants and not a detective attempting to dress up..." He waved his hand, trying to find an example. "...Like a kid trying on her mom's high-heeled shoes and trying to look like it was totally normal."
"Thanks," I replied dryly.
"You can't look like a train wreck when you arrive on the set." He put the coffee cup down on a side table and stretched out, hands behind his head, causing his muscles to flex as he did. "So Falls, what have you got?"
Yanking open my duffle bag, I flipped it upside down, and dumped all the clothes onto Decker's smug face before I could stop myself. It was too early in the morning and I was too sleep-deprived to be expected to act like a normal human adult.
He bolted off the couch like my bad fashion sense burned, and shot me a dark look. "Are you twelve?"
I smirked, enjoying his anger for a moment. Enjoying having the upper hand for a second before he could yank it back.
"You packed sweatpants, jeans, and more band shirts than any one person should have," he said staring at the pile, hand over his mouth, covering his facial expression. "And apparently you own more than one of that leather jacket you use as an unofficial uniform."
Decker ran his hand down his face. "Not a single dress... or anything that you could get away with..." He shook his head. "It's like you are giving up before you are even there." He analyzed me, dark blue eyes searching my face.
"Are you?"
I hadn't thought through my outfit choices. I knew I didn't have anything that would work, and a part of me was convinced that Coffee Guy would send me home before I could open my mouth again. "No..." I said, trying to decide if I needed to tell him. "I just—"
The doorbell rang, saving me from my confession.
I threw the door open, rubbing my eyes, utterly irritated to have more visitors at eleven in the morning after so few hours of sleep. Before I could get a word in, several people rushed past me, wheeling racks of clothes. I had just enough time to jump out of the way before I could be pummeled over like roadkill.
"Hey!" I shouted, yanking the racks to a stop before they could make it too far inside my house. "What are you—"
The first girl yanked the rack out of my hands. "Clothes," she muttered in a harsh tone, emphasizing that it was the only explanation I was getting. The second girl shot me an apologetic look, slowly pulling her clothing rack forward until I loosened my grip and let it go too.
"DECKER!" I shouted, sending the girls moving faster as I whirrled around.
He shrugged. "I called ahead. Didn't want to have to wait around to make sure you didn't try to bolt before they could get here and get you ready."
I took three steps towards Decker, intent on making good on my fantasy of punching him square in the face when another person's voice stopped me short.
"Delle?"
I turned and spotted the reason behind the fashion chaos, as he walked in sporting an immaculate, ink black, well-pressed suit, and nearly laughed. "They picked you to give me a makeover?" I asked, taking in Laurence Royal, my sister's business partner. "My sister must be dead if you are in charge of something creative-related."
He looked back at me with his deep brown eyes, laughing as he ducked inside my front door. "Allie has given me very detailed instructions. I am not allowed to make any impulse decisions, and if I do, apparently I leave myself open to manslaughter."
"On that note," Decker said slipping past me. "I'll leave you to the experts. I'll be back at four to take you to the set." Then before I could say another venom-filled retort, Decker was gone, leaving me alone with a fashion hurricane.
I crossed my arms, taking in Laurence Royal, the guy my sister had gone into business with, relieved to have someone with some sense in my corner. Where she was creative chaos and turbulent, Royal was patient and a critical thinker. And although I didn't know him well, I trusted Allie's style choices. She was famous for them. Royal Winters, her fashion company, had skyrocketed over the last few months.
"Better keep you alive then," I said waving him the rest of the way inside, understanding my sister's desire for perfection. Turning, I took in the chaos of the two girls, placing outfits along the couch, table, chairs, lamps... and any other available surface.
In a matter of thirty seconds, my living room had become a tornado of fabric. The girl who had given me an apologetic look was straightening makeup and hair items across the coffee table like she was assessing which weapons to take into battle. While the girl who had yanked the clothing rack away was looking from me to the clothes, mapping out a visual in her head.
"So what's the plan?" I asked, looking back at Laurence, trying to ignore the ladies behind me as they worked in hushed tones, holding items up to me before rushing back to their hordes of girl stuff. Although the idea of having to dress up left my skin crawling, the idea that I had others helping me come across as believable left me feeling more grounded. Something I would die before ever admitting to Decker.
Laurence smiled, looking almost as out of depth as I felt. "We trust that Allie knows what she's doing."
Before I could get clarification on what that meant, especially when Allie wasn't even there to help, I was ushered out of the room by the two girls wielding several dresses, makeup, and hair supplies.
Stumbling into a chair, my hair was quickly attacked by hairbrushes. "Do you use conditioner when you wash your hair?" The girl who had yanked away the clothing rack asked as she struggled to get the hairbrush through my curly hair.
"No," I grimaced in response, forcing my fists under my legs to keep myself from smacking her hands away.
"You will now," she commanded.
"At least phrase it like a suggestion, Cici," the second girl chastised. "No one likes being ordered around."
"It wasn't a suggestion, Jay. Why phrase it like one?" Cici scoffed as she ran hair product through my mane.
Jay began to dab my face with wipes, before working to add skin-colored gunk to my face. "Try not to let Cici get to you. She's just a perfectionist," Jaw said to me with a warm smile.
"Correction, we work for a perfectionist, who demands the same. I am merely trying to live up to that standard while we work on her sister," Cici replied.
I let out a bone-tired sigh. "Well, I'm not a perfectionist. So no need to hurt yourselves to make me look... however I am supposed to look."
Jay stopped mid-stroke of the blush brush, eyes going wide. "Surely you care about winning the Single Studs heart?"
My mouth fell open and I had to snap it shut before I could start laughing. Apparently, these two were not in on the fake part of this whole assignment. To them, this was real. "I just mean... I am a more, comfortable, natural type of dresser and makeup wearer."
Jay laughed, seeming relieved. "Of course! You have wonderful features. No sense in hiding them under layers."
She held up a long black dress that was cut incredibly low in the back. "This will look wonderful on you."
I shook my head. "Okay, when it comes to the clothes part, a few more layers and a little more imagination required would be very much preferred."
Cici looked from me to the dress. "Miss Falls is right. No sense in showcasing more than he deserves to see until the time is right."
There will be no 'when the time is right,' I nearly blurted before snapping my mouth shut.
Jay vanished from sight before popping back up again, holding a long dark green dress that sparkled in the sunshine that poured in from the window. "She'll look like a siren in this one. Deadly, beautiful, and we won't have to worry about taping her into it to keep her from flashing the cameras accidentally."
"Wait? Tape? People tape themselves into things?!?" I asked, my eyes going wide at the thought of being treated like a fabric scrapbook.
They both burst into laughter. "Of course!" Cici replied dabbing at the edges of her eyes. "It can keep things from... revealing themselves."
"Oh..." I replied. "No chance in me wearing pants?" I asked. "No surprises with pants."
The two girls stopped, looked at each other, then burst into laughter again until tears pricked at their eyes.
I'll take that as a no.
"Pants!" Jay squeaked, attempting to suppress her laughter.
"No pants!" Cici replied, recovering first, her face returning to a serious expression. "This evening is about first impressions. You need to wow him! Entice him! Seduce him with a single look and a few words. You won't be doing that with..." she wrinkled her nose at the idea. "Pants."
I hadn't fully appreciated how many hours a girl puts in to look elegant level ready. To look put together. Something I would never judge again. And even with a team at my dissposal, it took two hours before the girls were ready to present me to Laurence, who video called Allie, so she could assess their work.
I was ushered into the living room, where Laurence had made himself as comfortable as he could on the arm of the couch, having no other free spot to sit with clothes still dominating the living room. "Delle!" Allie shouted from the phone as Laurence turned it to face me.
Allie's smile filled the screen, ink black hair framing her face in soft styled curls.
"Hey Allie," I said with an awkward wave, shoving my hands deep into my dress pockets, and swooshing the glittering deep green material back and forth awkwardly, to have something to do. I hated being stared at, and dressing up left me feeling vulnerable.
Putting yourself on display left you open to getting hurt. Something I tried to avoid, especially after—. I killed the memory before it had fully formed.
"My gosh. You look hot!" Allie said with a pleased laugh. "I guessed your dimensions perfectly! Royal, move me around so I can see the back."
Laurence walked around so Allie could take in the back of the dress, which was still lower than I would have liked, but not as low as that terrifying black dress had been. This dress had thin straps and was cut into the shape of a heart at the front. Sheer pieces of material fanned down my body, showcasing a shimmering layer of seafoam green underneath. The dress dripped across my curves, revealing that they actually existed and weren't just a false rumor.
Huh. I almost forgot I had hips.
"This should do the trick," small phone Allie said once she was back looking at my face. "But now the big question. How do you feel in it?"
I ignored making eye contact with Cici, Jay, and Laurence as I responded. "I feel... like I wish I was wearing pants."
"NO PANTS!" Cici cried, throwing her arms up in frustration.
Allie started laughing. "Besides the lack of pants... Can you move around in it? Will you trip in it? Do you think you can get through a single night without wanting to set this outfit on fire? I'm quite attached to this design."
The dress was pretty comfortable. I could stash things in the pockets if need be, and although I felt a little silly, when I looked in the mirror, I felt powerful and beautiful. I felt like a girl who could go undercover and find out who had killed a contestant on a dating show.
"It's perfect." I offered her an appreciative smile. "Thank you."
"Great. You are so welcome! Cici and Jay will be with you every step of the way, and Laurence... well he won't bother you again."
Laurence rolled his eyes but took her insult with good humor.
"I'll be sending someone else along who will fit into the chaos like a duck to water. Trust me, you'll need him."
I raised a brow. "So this isn't just a one-time..." I waved my arm down my body, "clothes, hair, and face gunk thing?" My voice cracked, cutting through my angry exterior and showcasing my utter horror.
Allie smiled, eyes glistening with mischief. "Goodness you really are out of your depths aren't you." She laughed, shaking her head. "No. This will be a daily thing. They will help dress you every day, probably more than once."
I stared hostilely at the screen. "Don't give me that look!" she scolded.
"Allie, that's not funny," I replied yanking the phone from Laurence's grip, so I could glare more properly at my sister, trying to keep my hand from shaking.
"Delle, you will be shooting all day. Sometimes at multiple locations. You need clothes for all situations!"
"NOT ALL SITUATIONS!" I snapped, shuddering at the thought of trying to solve crimes mostly naked while the world watched from the comfort of their own homes.
"Delle..." Alle murmured, her voice falling into commanding calm. "You can do this. The clothes just frame you. They help showcase the assets you already have. But you determine how this goes. You've got this. You've been waiting for this..."
Allie paused, letting me understand how much she knew. When had Decker approached her? How much had he told her?
"You can do this... whether everyone is watching you, or not. Just let me and my team dress you. Let us take one thing you would otherwise have to worry about, away so you can kick ass. Okay?"
I swallowed, at a loss for words. Allie knew how little I liked to be stared at, observed, or be thrown into situations that required fashion sense. She had often come to my aid in high school. Throwing punches when I got cornered. Pushing through crowds of jeering laughter to get to me.
Blinking, I nodded, tucking away my fear. Touched that Allie was coming to my rescue again. Saving me with fabric instead of fists.
Allie sighed. "I'm sorry I can't be there myself. But I am a bit snowed under with another project. If it was any less important I would drop everything and be there."
I laughed. "You just want to see me make a fool of myself on a reality tv show!"
She grinned, eyes flashing with mischief. "A little. Smile into the camera for me! We'll be watching!"
"Wait, who? Who will be watching?"
Allie wiggled her eyebrows, enjoying my irritation far too much. "I'm gonna have a viewing party! Figured I'd invite Tate, Iz, Katherine, probably Aiden—"
"Don't you dare!"
"Sorry, too late to stop the 'hashtag Team Delle' train! BYYYYYEEEEE!!!" Then she hung up, leaving me alone with a team of strangers who apparently were going to dress me up in a new, ridiculous outfit every day.
Laurence awkwardly took a few steps forward, timidly reaching for his phone. "So..." he said, filling up the silence as he rocked back on his heels, phone safely back in his hands. "You ready to go?"
I sighed. "Let's get the glamorous freakshow on the road."
---
Thank you for reading chapter five! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!
UPDATE DAYS- A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
What do you think of Delle's sister, Allie?
If you want to read Allie's story, check out "The CEO and Her Driver," by clicking the link in the comment section here! The full story is out! -->
Will Delle get irritated and decide to wear her own clothes? Or worse, will she have a wardrobe malfunction while on the set?
How will Delle's second meeting with Ace Walker, the Single Stud, go?
Would you pass Decker's inspection?
CHAPTER QUESTION - Have you ever bought a piece of clothing that was completely out of your comfort zone? How did that go? Do you still wear it now?