Page 8 of No One But Us

“If he gives you an option,” whispers Kristy, a waitress working the bar area, “ask for a shirt at least one size up from what you’d normally wear. I think he buys them at a children’s clothingstore.”

This is getting worse and worse. A, nothing is going to come of my crush on James, and B, I don’t really need to go from being hit on by one boss to being hit on by another. Particularly since I don’treallyneed a job at all—the unspoken agreement I have with my dad is a sizable allowance and an AmEx he pays off in exchange for me keeping my head down and doing what I’m supposed to do. And aside from the fact that my dad didn’t like Ryan, my ex, I’ve done just that. Although he seems to be holding the Edward thing against me a bit, so I guess I can tack that on to the listtoo.

“He’s not going to, uh, expect anything, is he?” I askGinny.

“Nah,” she says. “But the uniform is ridiculously skimpy, so just brace yourself for a fair amount of eye-fucking.”

“I can’t believe James is okay with that.” He was always very protective of her. Of both of us,actually.

Kristy laughs. “Ginny is the only one Brian doesn’t leer at. James must have scared the shit out ofhim.”

“Same way he did to every other guy within the city limits,” sighsGinny.

“You have a boyfriend,” I remindher.

Ginny and her boyfriend, who’s in Spain for the summer, have been inseparable since the day they met back in high school. They’ve already named their children and discussed who will take leave when they havethem.

“It’s just ridiculous,” she gripes. “I mean, he acts like these guys are in their 40s and I’m10.”

“It’s kind of sweet, in away.”

“Says the girl who can sleep with anyone she wants,” saysGinny.

Notanyone, apparently. But I keep this tomyself.

Brian comes back with the paperwork and a T-shirt. “You look like a small,” he says, handing it to me. A pair of cut-off jean shorts and heels will round out the uniform.Classy.

Wearing this would be a trial for almost anyone, but it will be one in particular for me. I don’t mind looking like my mother, but I’ve always loathed the kind of cross-contamination that seems to accompany it. I’m not the girl whose picture hangs on a million bedroom walls, but sometimes it seems I’ll have to spend the rest of my life proving it. I’ve gone out of my way to dress conservatively, to tone things down. Though with the current media portrayal of me as some kind of teenage, Lolita-style seductress, it looks like I should have spared myself thetrouble.

* * *

I put on my uniform at 5:00 that afternoon and squirm with discomfort as I look in the mirror. The shirt is, as predicted, way too tight. I have my mother’s long legs, and between the tiny shorts and the high heels, the effect is just…ridiculous. I’m embarrassed to even go downstairs to find Ginny, whom I’m supposed to shadowtonight.

I hear her on the back deck and reluctantly head that way. I suppose if I’m going to have to suffer the perusal of hundreds of strangers in this get-up, I can suffer the perusal of my roommates. Besides, Ginny’s dressed for work too. This can’t really be the big deal I’m makingit.

She’s sitting with James and Max, who both stop talking and stare at me in surprise. This does not dramatically boost myconfidence.

“You can’t wear that,” says Jamesflatly.

“The hell she can’t,” counters Max. He looks at me approvingly. “You weremadeto wear thatuniform.”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “James, you know what the uniform looks like. Why are you making her feel bad aboutit?”

“It doesn’t fit right,” he argues, his jaw grinding. “Just wear some jeans tonight and a white shirt, and I’ll talk toBrian.”

Ginny snorts. “There’s no chance Brian is going to let one girl wear jeans while the rest of us wear Daisy Dukes. And shehasto wear the T-shirt. We all do. You’re going to get her fired on her firstday.”

“Ignore your surrogate father over there,” says Max. “I, personally, would give you a very generoustip.”

* * *

James drives us over, though his shift begins an hour after ours. He marches directly to Brian’s office, and Ginny snickers as hegoes.

“I’m sorry, but misery loves company,” she says. “Although this is overboard even forhim.”

I hear raised voices coming from Brian’s office, and then James storms out. Brian follows, looking me over with a level of appreciation I find somewhatunsettling.

“She doesn’t look like a whore,” he tells James before walkingaway.

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