Page 54 of Doc Showmance
“Too late, Dillweed. Didn’t realize this would be black tie.” I threw it out there sarcastically, but his face… “It’s actually black tie? Jesus, you’re a moron. A little heads-up on the protocol would’ve been nice.”
“Honest mistake. I thought Marianna said that during one of our meetings. Can Thanksgiving be anything other than black tie? It’s never been for me, although I did escape last year since I was filming in India. That was heaven.” He glanced skyward. “You packed nothing other than that to wear today?”
“My experience with family Thanksgiving dinner is a group of stragglers in jeans gathered together to do a buffet-style meal while watching the football game.” I waved at my clothes. “Jeans.”
“That sounds fun, unlike this.” He scrolled on his phone.
“I don’t own a cocktail dress. My life doesn’t call for schmoozing it up at galas. Last time I wore something like that was my high school prom, and I got it from a thrift store.”
“Don’t panic. Get back in the car.”
“I’m not the one panicking. You are. I’d be thrilled to get back on the plane. Hell, I’ll buy my own plane ticket. Just dump me at the airport.”
“Get in the car again, Amber.”
“Why the car?” Hope surged. “Are you sending me home?”
“Hell, no. I’m not suffering this by myself.”
“Come on. Let’s ditch. We can get a hotel up the coast and find takeout.” I grinned.
“We do that, and my father’s private investigator will be at our door in two hours to drag us back. We’re on my father’s turf.”
“Is he mafia?”
“Worse. He’s political and owns just about every worthwhile piece of real estate in this town and everything north of here.” He turned to the driver. “Take us to this address.” He rattled off driving instructions. Inside the car, he spoke into his phone. “Hey, Nabi, it’s Ian.”
I could hear a woman on the other end yelling and talking fast.
“Whoa. Ease up. I need your help. I have my…a friend home for today, and she needs a dress for the dinner. Please.”
Profuseness from the other side.
Ian gave me an uneasy look. “Yeah, it’s Dr. Hardin from the show. You’re watching the show?” He paused. “I guess she could give you an autograph. You don’t want mine?” Another pause. “Glad to hear you’re her number one fan. We’ll see you in a few minutes. Thanks. Hey, try not to embarrass me.”
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“I have a friend who’s a fashion designer.”
“Who has nothing better to do on Thanksgiving than lend me a dress?”
“Nabi does holidays her own way. She does everything her own way.”
We arrived at a row of townhomes minutes later. Each house was painted a different brilliant color. Ian led me up the concrete steps to a purple three-story with a shimmery door. There was no other way to describe the blue-green door. I’d never seen paint that color.
The door flew open before Ian touched the doorbell. An Asian woman with a wide smile and pink hair in a turquoise jumpsuit screamed and hugged him. She jumped back and grinned at me. “Oh my God. You’re Dr. Hardin. This is so exciting!”
She pumped my hand. “Huge fan. Huge fan. You’re so short in real life. You look huge on TV, but maybe it’s just your awesomeness.”
“I like your door,” I said lamely. My face heated.
Nabi looked around me and straightened. “You didn’t tell me we’d be on TV, Ian. I’m not even wearing my best, and my hair…” She hit him in the shoulder. “Get in here before the neighbors see you.”
Once inside, the brightness of the decor blinded me. Vivid colors splashed every surface. Even the side table lamp was bright yellow with a purple lampshade.
Nabi said, “I can’t believe you’re here. Both of you. I knew there was something to that look in the last episode. I’ve seen Ian with his fair share of ladies, but none got that kind of look. Then I wondered if it was bogus TV bullshit, but now you’re here and, oh my God. You’rehere. And you’re going to wear one of my dresses.”
“We’re in a bit of a rush, Nabi. Can you help us?” Ian asked.
