Page 81 of Doozer

She just laughed harder. “Come on, girlfriend, let’s go spend all of Taxi’s money.”

I let out a hiss and pushed away from the table, following the women to my doom.

* * *

The night of the ball arrived, and I was a puddle of goo. But not the good kind that derives from being happy and in love. No, I was the Ghostbusters slime kind.

The dress I chose… no, that’s not entirely true. Jette and Dr. Fenton forced me into this contraption, so this was on them. The dresstheychose was a deep cherry red, fitted around the hips and legs, then flaring at the bottom. They called it a mermaid style. I called it fucking impossible to walk in. At least the top was crisscrossed and sleeveless so I could raise my arms in case I had to punch someone.

Jette had curled and swept my short hair back, ala Demi at the 1992 Oscars, and practically tied me to a chair in order to do my makeup, complete with red lipstick. At least she’d managed to hide my black eye.

I didn’t look like myself and felt like a moron.

The worst part came when I had to put these strappy fucking heels on my feet. I had drawn a line in the sand when I almost fell walking across my room and shoved them back in the box. They didn’t know it because my dress went to the floor, but I’d opted for a pair of Chucks instead.

I couldn’t get away with not carrying a purse, however. I didn’t have pockets to throw my cell phone and ID in, so I stuffed everything in a silver, sparkly clutch that matched the heels I’d discarded, then walked out of my dorm room to meet the car.

Jette was waiting for me out front and she grinned as I tugged on my leather jacket and walked into the frigid air. “You just made it.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Sorry. I had to make a quick adjustment.”

We climbed into the car… well, I flopped in it as gracefully as I could, then the driver guided us to the venue a little over two miles away.

It was a particularly cold November, so I hoped I could leave my jacket on all night. My hopes would be dashed, however, when we walked into the room and my leather was virtually ripped from my body… by Jette.

“Hey, now,” I snapped.

“Nice try.”

“I’m cold.”

“Then put some bandaids on your nipples and pretend you’re in Fiji,” she ordered, handing my jacket to some kid in a uniform.

I dropped my head and groaned. My nipples were set to high beam and I crossed my arms to hide them.

“You’ll warm up,” Jette assured me.

“I thought the whole point of these chicken cutlet, stick on titty hoisters was that they took care of this,” I hissed.

“They would if we’d bought the right size,” Jette hissed back. “You hide your jugs better than me.” I scowled at her, but she just grinned. “Come on. Open bar means you won’t care about your ta-tas for long.”

She breezed away from me because she could. She wore a gorgeous, flower-child inspired sleeveless dress with a flowing skirt that faded from the deep blue on top into varying shades of blues as it went down.

I, on the other hand, had to waddle as gracefully as I could and keep up. Thank god I’d changed my shoes.

“Holy fuckballs,” Tackle breathed out and I glared up at him.

“Shut up,” I snapped.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and grinned.

“Jesus,” Boots hissed when he turned around. “You’re a fuckin’ babe.”

“I swear to god, if one more comment is made, I will beat the shit out of all of you,” I warned.

“Even me?”

My team parted and Doozer was suddenly in front of me. He wore a black tux, complete with deep red pocket hanky, and his kutte was nowhere to be seen.

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