Chapter 8, Part 7
I hung up the phone and gave Schapelle an apologetic smile. “Sorry, that was my best friend. She wants to know everything that’s going on.”
Schapelle smiled but there was something guarded about her expression. “Well, I just hope she keeps it to herself.” I realized that she thought that Jordan, or anyone back in Little Paris, might be capable of going to the press with the details about the little switch-a-roo that was currently underway. I didn’t have to worry about anyone selling a story to the press, I knew everyone too well to suspect them of selling me, or my family, out for money. After all, they hadn’t said anything yet, so I was sure that I could trust them.
But as I was trying to explain this to Schapelle, she brought her hands out from behind her back (the fact that they were behind her back in the first place was something I hadn’t realized until just now) and I saw that she was holding an opaque garment bag. I stopped trying to convince Schapelle that our secrets would be safe and looked at the garment bag with thinly veiled interest. Schapelle smiled. “This is from Clare, the owner of Madison’s.” She refreshed my memory, handing me the bag. “A little birdie mentioned your date tonight and she sent this right over.”
I quickly unzipped the bag and felt my heart jump in excitement when I saw what was hanging underneath the plastic. It was the pink gingham dress I had been admiring, the one I had imagined myself wearing and getting endless compliments on. I hadn’t even thought about it when I was trying to imagine what I would wear tonight; in fact, I hadn’t even thought about going shopping for a new outfit at all, though with Emilia’s celebrity discount, it should have been the first idea that had popped into my mind. But now that I was holding the dress in my hands, I realized that it was exactly what I’d seen myself wearing tonight: something cute and flirty but not too revealing or suggestive. I looked even better now than it had when I’d first seen it and I wanted to squeal and jump up and down the way I’d seen girls do when they found the perfect prom dress.
Instead I looked up at Schapelle. “She sent this for me to wear?” I couldn’t believe that Clare would take the time to send over the dress, especially not when she could be selling it that very night.
“She sent it for you to have.” Schapelle corrected. “Though whether you wear it tonight is up to you.”
I looked back down at the dress. “Oh, I’ll be wearing it.” I assured her. I couldn’t believe that Clare had just given me a dress, just like that, but I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If someone was in the mood to be handing out free clothes, I might as well get in line. I looked back up at Schapelle. “Don’t you think?” Suddenly I doubted my enthusiasm at wearing the dress tonight. What if it wasn’t right for the place that we were going (not that I knew where that was so I figured if I was underdressed, that was Joshua’s fault), what if it was too conservative and it would be the thing that made everyone realize that I wasn’t really Emilia? I looked back down at the dress doubtfully.
But Schapelle smiled. “I think it’s just right.” She assured me and her tone was the type of reassuring that I was used to getting from Beverly. I smiled at Schapelle and she returned the gesture. “I’m sure Joshua will love it.”
I realized that I couldn’t really say one way or the other what Joshua may or may not like. “Do you know him? Like at all?” I questioned, figuring that it might not be a bad idea to get some pointers from someone who hadn’t just run into him yesterday.
Schapelle shrugged. “I’ve met him a few times, he’s always nice and polite, good kid. His brother’s the same way, polite, reserved, not into the publicity. You can tell the whole band is playing music just because they want to, not because they like the attention.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I questioned, realizing there was a little naivety in my tone.
For a minute, Schapelle hesitated before answering. “I think it starts out that way.” She said finally.
I wondered what it was like for Emilia, if she really enjoyed playing music or if she was just doing it because that’s what she’d always done. But I thought about Emilia playing in the little studio at the back of the house, how beautiful the piano music had been, and figured that she enjoyed what she did, at least a little bit. “So…Joshua’s nice, polite…” I geared the subject back on the right track, hoping to press Schapelle for a little more information.
Schapelle smirked. “I’m sure you guys are going to hit it off.” She assured me.
I pursed my lips. “What are we supposed to talk about? I’m supposed to be Emilia, I have no idea what Emilia likes to talk about. Or likes.” I had a vision of Joshua and I sitting across my each other, sharing an awkward silence, waiting for the waiter to bring the check and end the torturous night.
“Don’t worry so much about Emilia.” Schapelle suggested. “Just…be yourself.” She paused. “God, that sounded trite didn’t it? When did I become such a cliché?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s Hollywood, it’s all clichés.”