Dinner with the Brother
WHEN HILARIE WALKED out of The Bean after she had finished her shift on Friday, she said, “Oh crap.”
“What?” Eric said, leaning against his Audi in a black tuxedo.
“You didn’t tell me we were meeting your brother at somewhere fancy,” she said, now self-conscious of her cheap white satin blouse and frayed skirt. “I have to go home and change.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What do you mean, I don’t? Are you taking me to McDonald’s dressed like that?”
He scoffed, “McDonald’s? Do I look like I eat that cheap crap? I’m taking you to a boutique before dinner.”
“Unless this boutique is Wal-Mart, I don’t have enough money for a new outfit.”
“I’ll take care of any expenses. Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.”
“You don’t need to buy me a dress. I have that dress Jessica
