Page 50 of Heavy Shot

That's pretty normal," Kline nodded, raising his voice. "And low key, actually. The women won't ever acknowledge you. They're either threatened, or jealous, or both. Guys will notice you and try to get your attention. For the women the game is to get me to forget you're there. For the guys it's to get you to forget about me."

"You really live this way, don't you?"

He laughed. "Welcome to my world! Since we’ve been caught out, let’s go see more of it. Let’s go shopping for that Oscars gown!"

The next few hours flew by in Rhiannon's head like a shopping montage from a romantic comedy. Kline took her up and down Rodeo Drive, in and out of stores, selecting and discarding dresses in every store. She tried on no fewer than five everywhere they went. She couldn't decide whether she was loving it or hating it, but Kline was in heaven and the small crowd of photographers who were trying to follow along were bested by store security every time.

He was also trying on tuxes at every stop, modeling and posing. While they were bouncing from store to store, he was loading up on boxes.

"What are you buying?" She asked him as he sent another clerk off to his car to stow the purchases away.

"Just a few things. Maybe a few pressies for you."

"But--"

"I saw some things I liked for you. You'll love them. Come on."

They made their last stop at Gucci, where Kline finally picked out a black dress to die for. It was the third she'd tried on there, and when the sales attendant straightened the hem, Rhiannon knew this had to be the one. It was feminine and gothic without being frilly, and she felt like she could own the style rather than be swallowed by it. A soft crinkled, gauzy satin hugged her body in a sheer line. The deep V-neck was open to the middle of her chest, but laced up with a thin, satin ribbon. The sleeves fit close to her arms, but not uncomfortably so, and belled out over her hands. She was a dark fairy. "I love it," she told the clerk.

"It's Tom Ford. It's one of my favorites. Pretty sheer, but you can put a sheath under it, or be daring."

"Everyone's seen everything already," Rhiannon scowled. She stepped out and Kline whistled.

"Nice," he nodded. "Very nice. What do the others look like?"

"They're okay. I like this one."

"It looks great on you. I'm just not sure it's right for the red carpet."

"Why not?"

"It's very--casual. I mean, I know it's floor length, and it's a gorgeous cut, but it's more opening night than awards night. We'll get it. You can wear that to the Lone Star premier. That will photograph well from the front, but the back is sort of boring. We'll be getting snapped from all views."

Rhiannon started to say something about his plans for the premier and his thoughts on the dress, but decided not to make a scene in front of the store. She closed her mouth and turned back into the dressing room. When she walked back out again it was in a simple black one shoulder dress made of jersey, with a white lining. Backless, it had a soft drape that showed the lining, matching the two side slits that vented out when she walked. Kline's eyes went wide and he smiled. "Now that's the one," he said. "That is perfect. Andie,” he said to their shopper, “We'll need shoes and the right undergarments to go with it. And a bag. That's perfect going and coming and from the side. Perfect."

She started to protest, but clamped her mouth shut again and walked back to put on her own clothes. The sales attendant smiled. "He knows his events," she said sympathetically. "And he knows what looks right. It is smashing on you."

"Thanks," Rhiannon said. With the girl out of the room, she dressed quickly and considered herself in the mirror. She never gave much thought to her looks. She knew she was good looking. She knew she was built well. Beyond that, she was comfortable unless duty called, and then she dressed to the nines. Actually, Jill had been instrumental in showing her the ins and outs of high fashion. The dress Kline liked was Jill's style.

There was a flurry around the cash register as they rang up the purchases, then Kline whisked her out to the car and back up into his mostly glass fortress where he sat her down and brought out the boxes. He had completely re-wardrobed her. Casual, evening, formal, underwear, shoes, accessories. There were easily several thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise all in her size. "Kline…"

"What? I wanted to," he was smiling hugely. "I mean, you're going to be out and about and seen with me everywhere, and you didn't seem sure of what to wear for that, so now you're set. No worries about ending up on Go Fug Yourself." He was beaming. She was feeling steam start to rise.

“I don't worry about things like that," she said, seriously.

"No one ever does, until it happens, then it's a horror."

She stared at him, not sure which version of his persona she was actually dealing with here. He'd been on glamour patrol nearly all afternoon and didn't appear to be coming down from it any time soon. "A horror for me," she asked, "or for you?"

Kline tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean are you worried I'm going to make you look bad?"

"No! I'm just used to this. I know how it works.I thought…Well you're a girl, I thought you'd like new clothes."

"I do like new clothes, Kline, andI appreciate that you're trying to do something nice for me," she said, nudging one of the boxes with her foot. "It's just that most of this isn't anything I would have chosen for myself. You didn't just buy me some new clothes. You're dressing me the way you want."

"I bought you the latest styles from the hottest couturiers," Kline said, unbelieving. "Why wouldn't you want to wear that?"

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