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Vanessa slid her dress on. She didn't ask me to help her zip it.
"You know anybody around here?" I asked.
"Why? Are you asking me for a date?" She was looking for her shoes. Her face was prettier than I had noticed at first.
"Maybe. Thought you might need a ride to the wedding. Christmas, too. They do it up big here."
"Sounds nice," she said noncommittally.
"Lots of presents," I repeated. "Think you can behave yourself?"
She shrugged her shoulders, settling her dress. She turned to face me and looked me straight in the eye, defiantly, mischievously, lethally, affectionately. Whatever that look was, she nailed it perfectly. "We'll see," she said.
Then her eyebrows dropped and her voice hardened and she added, "But I better not ever see that fucking belt again."
