Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Instinct screamed at Melody to cover herself. No one had seen her in this state of undress in quite a while. Even the times she’d been intimate with a man, she’d wrestled with going completely naked, struggling with those leftover body insecurities she’d developed as a teen. Hard not to develop a few of those suckers when tabloids were zooming in on her thigh dimples and circling them in bright yellow, right?
Instead of lunging for the silk robe, though, she forced herself to stand still and wait for Lola to carry over the sepia-colored gown. The whole situation seemed run-of-the-mill to the other two women in the room. Maybe it was. Melody has seen behind-the-scenes footage of her mother doing costume changes during concerts while forty crew members stood by. Was this a miniature version of what Trina felt in those moments? Self-conscious and exposed?
No. Definitely not.
Trina would request less clothing. She’d throw her arms up over her head and dance.
“Don’t forget the mic,” Danielle said briskly.
“Forget the wire and battery pack that ruins the perfect lines of my dress? Never.” Ignoring Danielle’s snort, Lola attached a small black box to the rear waistband of Melody’s thong, circling around with a wire and clipping a tiny microphone to the cup of her strapless bra. “They don’t want me telling you this,” Lola whispered, “but if you need to turn off the mic, like maybe you want some privacy in the bathroom, there is a button on the top of the pack. Just reach back and squeeze the box through the dress—you’ll feel it.”
“Thank you,” Melody said, but the stylist was already halfway across the room.
“Incoming,” Lola sang a moment later, holding the gown over Melody’s head and letting it tumble down her body in a shimmering wave. “Oh, this color is incredible on you.”
“First nice thing you’ve said to me all day.”
“That’s how you know I really mean it.”
Laughing under her breath, Melody shifted her body around. “Actually, it’s pretty comfortable—”
“Stop using the ‘C’ word in my presence.”
“Lola hates the ‘C’ word,” Danielle interjected, while looking down at her phone.
“It is, though—”
Lola drew the back of the gown together and zipped it up. In an instant, the bodice went from loose to skintight. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” Lola grabbed Melody by the shoulders. “Look at yourself. Look.”
Danielle came up beside her, no longer distracted by her phone. “Wow.” She inspected her, head to toe. “Melody, you were beautiful before. You didn’t need a makeover. No one does—”
Lola snorted.
“But damn.” Danielle’s reflection winked at Melody in the mirror. “A little extra effort looks good on you.”
“Thanks,” Melody murmured, because that single word was all she could muster.
This was far from the first time she’d worn a dress. Growing up, she’d attended countless honors ceremonies, awards shows, and festive parties at the penthouses of music producers. In fact, those events were the main reason Trina landed briefly in New York, before taking off again, leaving Melody with a rotating staff of nannies. The longer Steel Birds remained broken up, the more those events thinned out. Since turning eighteen and living on her own, it never occurred to her to make more than a cursory effort with her appearance, because when she’d done so in the past, it was usually met with criticism from the press. Or she’d open People magazine and see cringeworthy pictures of herself wide-eyed and shiny-faced coming or going from a restaurant. Was it any wonder she’d selected clothing that kept her the most well hidden?
This woman in the mirror, though . . . she was a far cry from the teenager who couldn’t seem to find a single piece of flattering clothing. The dress hugged her breasts and hips, accentuated her waist. Her skin was clear of the acne that had plagued her growing up. The hairdresser had trimmed her hair and left it falling softly around her neck, not a frizzy flyaway wisp to be seen. Who was this person?
“Oh.” Lola couldn’t hide her smug expression. “She’s speechless. This is satisfying.”
Danielle high-fived her. “You did good.”
A quick sniff. “Yes, I did.”
The phone buzzed in the producer’s hand and she checked the screen. “Beat is en route.” She took a few steps backward and craned her neck to address someone in the hallway. “He’s already mic’d?”
“Yes, the PA met us downstairs and wired him for sound,” came the deep-voiced, muffled reply. “Bases are covered, Dani.”
“Great.” Danielle looked momentarily thrown by the shortening of her name, but she beamed a smile at Lola. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”
“My work is done!” Lola sang on her way out the door. “I’m getting a drink.”
“Thank you,” Melody called after her, still observing herself in the mirror and feeling a little stunned. For the first time in her life, she could actually see the tiniest resemblance to Trina. “We’re going straight to the gala when Beat gets here?” she asked Danielle.