Clothes shopping for girls’ clothes with guys was surreal. It was odd enough traipsing around shops for handbags and shoes with just Brookie, but after Isaac dumped his brother in town and met them outside H&M for “fun times!”, it felt positively weird. For a start, it was the first time she’d gone shopping with any males outside her family (she didn’t count her bodyguards) in her life, and the boys were actually taking an interest in the clothing.
“No yellow,” said Isaac, tugging her away from a part of the store that practically consisted of the colour. “It’ll look gross on you.”
“Yeah, it’ll make you look washed out,” Brookie agreed, shunting the pair of them away from the yellow. “Try red.”
“Won’t it clash with my hair?” Fran protested, tugging at the wig.
“Nope,” said Brookie. “Not if you choose the right type of red. A large amount of what you can pull off depends on your personality, you know.”
Fran stared after the two boys as they waltzed away to another part of the shop.
The second thing that took Fran by surprise was that they actually started selecting items of clothing for her, and they both had pretty good eyes for style.
“Skinny jeans, definitely,” Isaac said, giving her legs a quick glance the second they got into Zara. “And I reckon you can pull off a mini-skirt—”
“You want nice tights if you’re going to do that,” Brookie interjected. “It’s getting cold, after all.”
They stood back to admire their handiwork as Fran emerged self-consciously from the changing rooms in grey slim-cut jeans, a bright red t-shirt and a simple black cardigan.
“The cut’s wrong on the hips for your shape,” Brookie said after a couple of moments’ thought. “It makes the whole shape of the outfit seem a little odd.”
“You need the short cut rather than the regular for trousers,” Isaac added, stroking his chin. “And do up the middle button of the cardigan – it’ll look prettier.”
“Why do you two know so much about girls’ clothes?” Fran protested as they pushed her back into the cubicle with more to try on.
“I have God only knows how many sisters,” Brookie said. “And my parents are often busy, so when I was younger they used to take me shopping because my parents didn't want to leave me home alone. And then when I was older and they started fostering and adopting, I used to be the one who looked after them when Cesca wasn't around. Plus Selena was a shopaholic.”
“And I have Aaron.”
Their comments on the few outfits they allowed her to choose herself also surprised her. She was used to Freddie’s very black-and-white approach to clothes shopping, which went something along the lines of “what the f*ck are you wearing? That looks awful!” if he didn’t like it, or consisted of a grunt followed by “s’okay” if it looked good. The boys were still blunt, but they at least were capable of more than two reactions.
“Nope, that makes you look fat,” Isaac said, “and those trousers make you look like a zebra. Try these.” He chucked another pile of clothes at her.
“That skirt requires knee-high high-heeled boots,” Brookie concluded eventually in Top Shop after they’d spent five minutes trying to work out why the outfit looked strange. “We’ll get you some on the way to Debenham’s. But otherwise, that looks really nice.”
“You could do with a size up for the sweater,” he commented when she next emerged. “The colouring really suits you, though. Isaac, see if you can find more stuff with pale blue on it.”
Their most nonplussed expressions appeared when she waltzed out in a casual dress Isaac had picked up for her, patterned with red, pink and pale blue flowers, with ice blue converses and white ankle socks. Fran immediately backed up and held the curtain around herself. I like it, but it's a weird combination. After a moment or so, Brookie tugged the curtain away.
“The dress is lovely,” he said. “You’re getting that.”
“But it’s fifty pounds!”
“Hey, I’m paying. You have no choice in the matter.”
Isaac finally stopped stroking his imaginary beard. “You know,” he said, “if somebody had described that look to me, I would have vetoed it. Normally dresses and socks are an absolute no-no, not to mention dresses and converses, but that actually looks good. The colour of the converses picks up the light blue on the dress really well.”
Having racked up a running total of six hundred pounds across the various shops they’d been to – largely due to a pair of expensive leather boots that Brookie insisted Fran should have – the trio headed over to Debenham’s a street away, where Brookie immediately approached a shop assistant to ask about dresses. The poor woman kept glancing between Brookie and Isaac as if she couldn’t work out which one was Fran’s boyfriend and why two boys were accompanying a girl to shop for dresses.
Come to that, I can’t work it out either, Fran realised. And why are we looking for dresses in Debenham’s?
“What do you reckon, knee-length and black?” Brookie checked quickly with Isaac.
Isaac wrinkled his nose and tilted his head from side to side as he considered. “Add a splash of colour,” he decided. “And don’t write off floor-length.”
“Exactly how formal is this concert, anyway?” Fran groaned as they started plucking dresses off the racks with the help of the store attendant.
“Very,” said Brookie, “in my experience of Rico’s concerts. You get loads of really important people going.”
Fran glanced at Isaac for confirmation, but the boy just shrugged and mouthed “never been to one”.
“Then don’t I need something like an evening gown?” she asked.
“You’re young,” Brookie said indifferently. “You could turn up in a cocktail dress and people wouldn’t care, provided it was tasteful. Selena was much more pernickety because she said that most girls aren’t aware of what type of dress is appropriate for what type of event and just wear whatever they want to. It’s so much easier if you’re a guy, to be honest. And since the dress code for this isn’t specified, but it’s understood as formal, you just basically have to make sure you look good and can’t be criticised for being casual.”
He turned to find that the other two and the store attendant were gaping at him as though he’d grown a third eye on a tentacle.
“What?”
Isaac’s jaw shut with a clack. “You go to far too many red carpet events.”
The store attendant laughed nervously. Brookie cast an appraising eye over Fran and picked a slightly purplish dress off the rack next to her. He held it up against her body, measuring it up, and tilted his head to one side before putting it back, muttering something that sounded like “what kind of god-awfully small size are you?” He turned to the store attendant.
“Would you happen to have this in a size six?” he asked, tapping the dress he’d just discarded.
The store attendant looked dazzled that he’d deigned to speak to her again. Brookie smiled wanly as she blinked; then she gathered herself together.
“Not on the shelves, sir, but I can check out back.”
“Thanks.” Brookie turned away and pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that Fran recognised as frustration. “Sunglasses,” he muttered to himself. “We all need sunglasses.”
Fran cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sunglasses? It’s practically winter.”
“Sunglasses are a celebrity’s best friend,” Brookie told her with finality. “Isaac, go find her some sunglasses.”
“Yes, your majesty.” Isaac wandered off, grumbling.
The store attendant had no sooner returned with an appropriate size of dress before a bunch of girls rounded the corner, caught sight of Brookie, and started squealing. It was a reaction that had manifested itself numerous times already in every shop they’d been into, and Brookie immediately ducked into the nearest dresses, leaving Fran to face the fire alone.
“Oh my God! That was Brookie! That was Brookie Denvers!” the skinniest of the girls exclaimed with excitement.
“Where?” asked another, looking around. Fran bit back the urge to laugh. The girl was one of the rare ones who clearly had no interest in Brookie, and she looked thoroughly resigned to the actions of her fan-girling friends as they made a beeline for Fran, then returned to her fingernails.
“Oh my God,” repeated the skinny girl with a broad grin. “You’re Brookie’s roommate, aren’t you? You’re Frankie.”
Fran pulled her most comical one-eyebrow-raised expression and held up the dresses, practically speechless.
“Clara, you dipstick, that’s a girl,” said the bored girl, rolling her eyes. “Everybody knows that Frankie Grey’s a boy and the people who think he’s a girl are idiots. Any girl would be caught doing that and the school would never allow it.”
It was all Fran could do not to choke. The excited girl’s face fell.
“Are you Brookie’s new girlfriend, then?” asked another of the girls, stroking one of the dresses. Fran yanked it away.
“I’m single,” she said.
“You can’t be.” The girls seemed disappointed. “What were you doing with him just now?”
Sighing, Fran looked around. “Well, I can’t see him, and I don’t know him, so it’d be news to me if I was going out with him or even hanging out with him. In any case, why would a boy be hanging out in the dress section of a store?”
“She has a point,” said the bored girl, grabbing her friends and dragging them away. “Sorry about these guys! They’re a bit obsessed.”
“Who isn’t?” grumbled Brookie as he emerged from hiding, making the store attendant jump. “I hate going out in public.”
Fran took the dress from the store attendant. “You could always adopt a disguise.”
“Sunglasses normally work, except they also make you more conspicuous when it’s cold and you can’t really wear them indoors.” Brookie put a hand between her shoulder blades and propelled her towards the changing rooms. “Now go and try these— hang on.” He paused briefly to snatch another dress off the rails. After checking that it was a size 6, he added it to the pile in Fran’s arms.
“You do know I can only try on six of these at a time, right?” she said as he pushed her along.
“I don’t care. But that last one will be the nicest, I bet you.”
Fran looked down at it. Draped across the top of the pile, it looked like any other shapeless piece of material with some red and orange on it. She raised her eyebrows.
“If you say so.”
From Isaac’s reaction, Brookie was right. He was lounging against the wall with a pair of sunglasses on his head when she poked her head out of the cubicle door. Brookie was also leaning against the wall, arms folded.
“Well, let’s see,” he said with a grin. Fran bit her lip. She had to admit that she really, really liked the dress, but the price tag made her wince. She opened the door and stepped out.
“I can’t get this.” She shook her head.
Brookie laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets. Isaac whistled.
“Phwaw. Getting’ hot in here,” he said in a terrible attempt at an American accent, pulling the sunglasses down over his eyes. The price tag stuck out from the side of his head. “How do you hide your figure under guy’s clothes so well?”
“It’s not like she has pronounced curves,” Brookie told him in an undertone. “Hey, hey!” he protested as Fran hit him. “All you needed to do was find a dress that flatters you and you look gorgeous. Doesn’t she, Isaac?”
“Well, she could do with some makeup and a nice pair of shoes,” Isaac said, cringing away only just in time to avoid Fran hitting him, too. “But you look smokin’, girl.”
Brookie turned back to Fran with sparkling eyes. “Do you like it?” he asked. “Because we like it.”
Isaac nodded vigorously. “Even Aaron would go straight for you.”
Brookie and Fran both shot him withering looks.
“Okay, maybe he wouldn’t,” Isaac admitted sullenly. “But I still think you should get it.”
Fran looked down at the dress. It was a simply, classy cut with a skirt that flared when she spun. It was knee-length – Brookie had insisted on it no matter what Isaac said – and had black, gauzy, short sleeves that barely covered her shoulders and fluttered if she moved too quickly. A fantastic red-orange flame burnt brightly across the front from the right side. Fran had initially thought it would look tacky, but it really didn’t.
“It’s really nice, but it’s well over a hundred and fifty pounds,” she said flatly. “Shoes are going to be at least another twenty. Brookie’s already spent over six hundred pounds on me. I can’t let him get me anymore.”
There was a slap and a sigh as Brookie whacked his head with his hands. “Do you or do you not want to look pretty for Rico? Just let me get you the godd*mn dress. It looks great.”
“Yes, but Rico’s not going to know it’s me!” Fran exploded. “What’s the point in looking pretty if he thinks I’m somebody he’s never going to meet again?”
“Hang on a second.” Isaac pushed the sunglasses back up again. “Do you have a crush on Rico?”
Brookie grinned mischievously. “Yup.” He twisted aside just in time to avoid an incoming slap. “Hey, it’s obvious, Frankie. Calm down.”
Fran fumed helplessly as Isaac hooted with glee and gave Brookie a high-five.
“Finally!” he crowed. “We have a chance to set Rico up—”
“With somebody he thinks is a boy.”
“Who cares?” Isaac ignored the complications with excitement. “Wait. He doesn’t know yet?”
“No,” said Fran. “And I will kill both of you if you tell him.”
Isaac pursed his lips. Then his customary grin reappeared. “I say we set them up anyway.” He dissolved into girlish giggles. “Man, Brookie, the scandals are going to be glor-horious! Cheater cheated on by cheated with… I can’t wait to see the headlines. I don’t know if your fans will be over the moon or scandalised.”
“Both,” said Brookie, losing his own grin. “Did you have to insert the word wh*re into glorious?”
“Puns are the best form of humour.” Isaac’s grin was almost as cheesy as his toasties.
“Puns are banned by all three rules of humour,” argued Brookie. “No puns, no puns, and no puns, or do you not listen to anything John Cleese says?”
“‘Comedy works best when it’s mean-spirited’,” Isaac retorted immediately. Brookie threw him a half-hearted punch. He received a mock-horrified expression in response. “‘Don’t touch me! I don’t know where you’ve been!’”
Fran face-palmed hard as the conversation descended into a competition to see who could come up with the most John Cleese quotes. By the time they’d migrated to the cheese shop sketch from Monty Python, she was sitting on the floor and banging her head against the wall. Both boys spotted her at the same time.
“What a senseless waste of human brain cells,” they said in unison, hauling her to her feet. Seconds later, they’d both dissolved into giggles again, and they high-fived each other over Fran’s head. “Great minds think alike!”
Fran sniffed. “There is no hope for either of you.”
Isaac sobered. “Of course not, dear. Now get changed so we can buy you the blasted dress.”
As Fran returned to the cubicle, she heard Isaac say to Brookie in an undertone: “We’ve got to get planning.”
If they dare… if they f*cking dare….