Deep Betrayal (Lies Beneath #2) by Anne Greenwood Brown Page B

“What’s this?” she asked.
    “Vintage band tees,” I said. “I found them in the attic when we first moved here. They must have been my grandpa’s, because they’re all from the sixties and early seventies.”
    She pulled one out and held it up to read. “Who’s Jefferson Airplane?” she asked. “Never mind.” She returned to the clothes on hangers. “Don’t you have
anything
sexy?”
    “I can barely say that word out loud.”
    “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many girls would kill to have curves like you? Not that
I
need help in that department … and your hair totally rocks. Okay, what about this?”
    She pulled a cream-colored blouse out of the back. “It goes off the shoulder, right?”
    “I wear it pulled up. With a scarf. What about a Santana T-shirt? Santana’s sexy.”
    “Uh-uh. Not tonight. Tonight I’m dressing you.”
    “I don’t know if Calder really likes the girly-girl kind of thing.”
    “He’ll love it. At the very least, you’ll have everyone else’s attention. Nothing piques a guy’s interest like thinking he’s got competition.”
    I rolled my eyes. “There’s no competition.”
    “Of course there isn’t, but keep that to yourself. He doesn’t have to know. Do you have any other jewelry?”
    “I’m not taking off my necklace,” I said. The beach-glass pendant was a permanent accessory by now. I couldn’t imagine being without it.
    My phone vibrated on the bed, and I slid it open.
    JULES: Whatcha doin?
    LILY: Being tortured.
    Gabby threw the silky blouse on the bed, then a few more odds and ends, followed by a pair of jeans from my bottom drawer. They were from last year and way too tight.
    JULES: By Calder? Sounds fun.
    LILY: I wish. What are you doing tonight?
    “Come here,” Gabby said. “Let me do your makeup.” She yanked me off the bed toward the bathroom.
    JULES: Promise not to be mad?
    LILY: Why would I be mad?
    Gabby closed my phone and tossed it on the bed.
    “Hey! Why’d you—?”
    “I demand your full attention,” she said. “How do you feel about red lipstick?”
    “
That
I can do.”
    By the time Gabby was done with me, my hair was teased and rumpled to look like I’d spent the last three days in bed. She dusted my bare shoulders with something shimmery called Roller Derby Princess. I pulled the neckline of my blouse up over my shoulders, and Gabby yanked it back down.
    “It won’t kill you to show some skin,” Gabby said, whining a little.
    “I’m worried about mosquitos.”
    Gabby made a
psssh
sound and experimented with piling my hair up on top of my head, then stood back to appraise her work. “If you’re lucky, it won’t be just mosquitos biting you tonight.”
    “Geez, Gabby!” I swung at her, and she ducked out of the way, letting my hair fall heavy on my back.
    Tires crunched on the gravel driveway, turning both our attentions to the window.
    “Looks like Calder’s got new wheels,” she said.
    I went to the window to look. It was a 1980s brown sedan—about as nondescript as a car could be. It wasn’t going to get much attention around here even if someone was looking for it, which, knowing Calder, was doubtful. By now, the owner had probably forgotten he even had a car. Chances were he was touting the benefits of “going green” and telling his neighbor how much he enjoys walking everywhere. I guess Dad’s No Thievery rule was out the window. That, or Dad wasn’t going to be around enough to care.
    “It’s a total shitmobile,” Gabby said, “but at least
he’s
fine. I can see his six pack right through his shirt, or is that twelve? And, seriously, that’s the most rock-solid ass I’ve ever—”
    “Please don’t ogle my boyfriend.”
    “Well.” She dragged me toward the bedroom door as I dug in my heels, feeling completely ridiculous. “If you can’t appreciate what you’ve got, I’m happy to take over.”
    “Stop pulling my arm,” I said. “I’m coming.”
    “Fine. I’ll see you up at