An Evening for Vayl and Jaz

Cassandra, this is an emergency!" My phone beeped. Crap! Why do they put so many buttons on the side when they know sometimes you need to squeeze it like a stress ball? I probably just texted Dave's flight arrangements to the head of the FBI.

"Jaz? Do you know what time it is?"

"You're a freaking psychic! I figured you'd be waiting up for my call!"

"Which is about what?"

I blew my breath out of my nose and ran my eyes around the hotel room one more time, like the antique desk or the handwoven rug might jump up and accuse me of the very crime I was trying to avoid. "Clothes, Cassandra! Jeez, can't you tell when I'm desperate?"

"Ummm."

"Are you falling asleep on me?"

"It's four in the morning!"

"Well, I'm sorry! It's only eight p.m. here, and Vayl wants to treat me to dinner to celebrate our success, and we're in this don't-touch-our-stuff hotel so you know the dining room is going to be full of tuxedos and gowns, and all I have to wear are some blood-spattered pants or a dress that only a dog could love. I'm being literal about that, by the way. If I don't get something decent to wear, I'm pretty sure the luxury police are going to throw me in a deep, dark dungeon where they only feed you pizza and beer. Which would be fine by me. Except I'm flying out of Patras tomorrow, and if I miss my plane, Pete will have a stroke."

"Is this what happens when you have a breakdown?"

"Are you laughing? Because this isn't funny!"

"I would never laugh at you, Jaz. You carry a gun."

I sat on the bed at the edge because the spread looked to have been embedded with genuine gold threads, and I was afraid if I mussed it, I'd be liable. Damn Vayl for always having to check us into ooh-la-la-land! "Come on, Cassandra. Hold the phone really tight, and tell me you can see exactly what I should be wearing tonight and where the hell I can find it within the next hour."

"I don't get visions over the phone."

Despite the risk to my bank account, I fell back on the bed. "Then I'm doomed."

"No, you're not. Put on your bloodstained pants, go downstairs to one of the elite boutiques the hotel probably runs, and buy something beautiful."

"How will I know it's right for me?" I knew I sounded desperate, but at this point, I didn't care. When you're out of your element, it's past time to call in the pros. "I have no clue about these things, Cassandra. Evie's always the one who tells me if the outfit looks okay or if I should hang it back up before somebody puts me in a slasher movie. Seriously, I never would've bought that dress in Corpus Christi if you hadn't told me it would go great with my hair."

I heard a very unladylike sound. "Cassandra! Are you snoring?"

"I don't snore! Look, follow these rules and you'll be fine: Spend more money than you think you can afford, try a style you wouldn't normally wear, and ask the first man you see what he thinks. Don't listen to his words; look into his eyes. If you get the wow-baby stare, buy it."