Tall, Dark & Reckless

Long ago, Piper had learned that the way to manipulate Dancie was to keep her off balance by moving quickly and decisively. Talking a lot as she did so helped, too.

“I want to tweak your visual presentation.” As she spoke, Piper walked around Dancie’s desk and pulled her out of the chair.

“What do you mean?”

There was a full-length mirror on the door. Piper positioned Dancie in front of it and tugged the faded navy hoodie off her arms.

“What are you doing?” Dancie jerked at a sleeve.

“Honestly, Dancie!” Piper pointed to a hole where the cuff had pulled away from the rest of the sleeve.

“Nobody’s going to notice that!”

Piper freed the hoodie from Dancie’s clutches and tossed it onto the desk. She should have aimed for the trash basket. “Only because you’re dressing to be invisible.”

“What are you talking about?” Dancie gestured down at her cotton tank, jean shorts, and flip-flops. “This is the way I always look! Everybody in Austin looks this way!”

“Not today.” Piper examined Dancie’s legs. At least she’d shaved them relatively recently. “Today, you’re going to look like a partner in the Online Media Group.”

Dancie went still. Anticipating the coming rant, Piper used the opportunity to remove the plastic bag from the clothes.

And then, the rant began. “If Dad makes me a partner like Travis, it’s going to be because the Women’s Guide to Living Fabulous division has brought in the most revenue the past two quarters and not because of what I’m wearing!”

“Of course it will be.” Piper automatically spoke with the same tone she used to deliver unpleasant truths to defensive clients. “If he listens to you.”

“That’s why I have a written report. It’s with our proposal.” Dancie pointed to the desk where a shiny red folder sat. “Hard copy.”

“Red. I see.” At least Dancie’d put the thing in a folder.

“Yeah. I thought it would stand out.”

“It does. Red means stop. Danger. Red ink. In the red.” From the bag on the chair, Piper withdrew a green folder and handed it to Dancie. “Green is the color of money. It means growth. Go. Green is good.” Piper gestured. “Switch the folders.”

Dancie stared at it. “You actually brought a folder for me?”

“I didn’t want you to stress in case you forgot.”

Dancie walked toward the desk. “This is some of your psychological stuff, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” While Dancie changed her report folder, Piper moved the chair in front of the mirror.

Without turning around, Dancie said, “I see the clothes. Don’t think I’m not aware of what you’re doing. You’re going to say, ‘Dancie, your quarterly report says the same thing. You’ve just changed the cover to make it more appealing. That’s all we’re doing with these clothes. You’re still you—you’ll just have a different cover.’”

“Excellent. We can skip that part, then.” Piper held up a skirt. “And one of the advantages of having roomed with you is that I know your size.”

Dancie saw the skirt. “Oh, hell, no.”

“Watch the potty mouth. Your dad doesn’t like it when women swear.”

“I am not wearing a skirt! I do not wear skirts. I have never worn skirts—something you should have picked up on after three years of rooming with me.”

“It’s a denim pencil skirt.” Piper tossed it at her. “Think of it as a pair of shorts with the legs sewn together.”

“He’ll know I’m wearing it just to get on his good side.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your father seeing you make an effort to look more attractive,” Piper said calmly. “You’re trying to woo him—”

Dancie flung down the skirt. “In the first place, I am not one of your dating clients and in the second, ew!” She shuddered. “Gee, thanks for putting that in my head!”

“Compatibility principles are the same whether you’re talking dating or job interviews or roommate questionnaires.” The meeting was less than twenty minutes away now and Dancie was being more hardheaded than Piper expected. “Salesmen use the technique all the time. And that’s what you are today—a salesman. You are selling yourself as a partner to your father.”

“Ew—ew—ew—ew!”

“Dancie, stop it!” Piper had to speak more sharply than she wanted to, but this was important.

“Travis doesn’t have to do stuff like this!” Dancie wailed.

“But he does.” Piper looked around for an outlet to plug in the flatiron and ended up unplugging Dancie’s desk lamp. “Have you seen Travis today? What’s he wearing?”

Dancie made a disgusted sound. “Khaki Dockers and a UT golf shirt.”

“And probably his big gold fraternity ring. What do you think your dad’s going to wear?”

“What he always wears,” Dancie said. “Dockers with his belly hanging over the waist and a golf shirt with a Longhorn football booster logo …” She met Piper’s eyes as she trailed off.

“Exactly. Travis mirrors your father.”

“Then I’ll wear khakis and a golf shirt!”

“Your father likes pretty, feminine women.” Which was why Piper was rocking a retro sorority girl/receptionist look today.

“Oh, I know,” Dancie snapped. “He wants nothing more than for me to be his little princess until he can hand me off to Prince Charming.”

“So be a princess with a brain.” Piper led Dancie to the chair in front of the mirror and pushed on her shoulders. Unresisting, Dancie sat down, staring unseeingly until she noticed Piper with the flatiron in the reflection.

“Are you cra—”

Piper moved fast, grabbing a hank of Dancie’s curly ponytail and running the iron through it.

Dancie jerked away in outrage. “Look what you’ve done! Now part of my hair is straight and part is curly!”

“Oops,” Piper said, not sorry at all. “I guess I’ll just have to straighten the rest of it, then.”

Glaring, Dancie yanked the elastic off her ponytail. “I’m going to look pathetic!”

“No—”

“Yes, I am! There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me look one-tenth as good as my mother looks when she rolls out of bed in the morning! You making me look all girlie is only going to emphasize it.”