Party Crashers

was thinking more along the lines of cotton pajamas."
    Carlotta looked horrified. "What? No!" She handed Jolie the chemise as if she were dressing a child who didn't know better.
    Jolie rubbed the pale, thin fabric between her fingers with awe. "What if I ruin it?"
    "You're not going to ruin it." Carlotta whipped out packages of what looked like shoulder pads. "Dress shields, so we don't sweat on the silk. And be careful what you eat and drink."
    Jolie turned over the dangling price tag on the chemise and gasped. "Eight hundred dollars? You can't be serious."
    "Your robe costs twelve hundred."
    Jolie looked at that tag, then dropped it as if it were dangerous. "You don't expect me to wear two thousand dollars' worth of pajamas to this party?"
    "Of course not," Carlotta said, then reached into another bag, withdrew a shoebox, and flung off the lid. "Don't forget the two hundred dollar mules!"
    Jolie gawked at the delicate burgundy shoes trimmed with feathers. "Two hundred dollars for house shoes?"
    " Designer house shoes. The kind that Garbo and Hepburn used to wear." She sighed and angled her head. "It's one night—you'll look so fabulous."
    Jolie chewed on her lower lip. "I promised myself I wasn't going to do this again."
    Carlotta rolled her eyes. "Okay, just this last time. Think of how much fun it will be to pull one over on your ex-boss." She raised her eyebrows. "Who knows? Beck Underwood might even put in an appearance."
    A ridiculous flush burned her face. "This sounds petty, but I really just want to see the inside of Sammy's house. When I worked at the agency, she talked about it nonstop. I actually drove by it once for a look, but this could be my only chance to cross the threshold."
    "All the more reason for you to look like a million bucks," Carlotta urged, then leaned in. "I brought you a long red wig. We'll do your eyebrows, and with the contact lenses, she'll never know who you are."
    "Are you wearing a wig too?" Jolie asked.
    She nodded. "I'm going as Marilyn tonight, and Hannah is going to wear the brown page-boy that you wore a few nights ago." Carlotta looked at her watch, then shrieked. "We only have two hours. Where's your bathroom?"

    * * *

    Jolie felt more than a little absurd leaving her apartment wearing a nightgown, robe, and feathered mules, but thankfully, the dipping temperatures necessitated a coat, so her long, navy all-weather coat covered most of her garb. Her new auburn tresses were stiff against her neck, the green contacts, swimmy in her eyes. Thank goodness it was close enough to Halloween so that anyone who spied them would assume they were headed to a costume party. Still, she already regretted not wearing a bra—the slippery silk slid over her breasts like a constant caress, with predictable results.
    "Where did this cold weather come from?" Carlotta demanded, belting her own long coat—except hers was black cashmere, and stunning against her blonde wig.
    "It's called winter," Hannah snapped. With her blunt page-boy wig, severe makeup and long black leather duster, she looked every inch the dominatrix.
    Carlotta frowned. "If you're going to be in a bad mood all evening, don't come."
    "Sorry," Hannah mumbled. "I expected Russell to call before now."
    Carlotta sniffed and looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't. Jolie remembered that Hannah's married boyfriend was supposed to tell his wife he wanted a divorce sometime this weekend. It appeared he was leaning toward the "end" of the weekend.
    She locked the apartment door behind them and, out of habit now, looked left and right as they made their way down the sidewalk to the parking lot by lamplight. "Do you want to ride with me, or are we driving separately?"
    "I'm driving," Carlotta said, stopping next to a mirror-shiny dark Monte Carlo SuperSport parked in the handicap spot. "Like it?"
    Remembering the woman's imminent rendezvous with the man who'd demanded two thousand dollars, Jolie's eyebrows went up. "What happened to the Miata?"
    "I thought it was time to get a new ride."
    The muscle car didn’t exactly suit Carlotta, but Jolie opened the back door of the spanking-new sedan and inhaled the new-car smell. "Nice."
    They were settled inside and fastening seat belts when Hannah, who sat in the front passenger seat, looked over at Carlotta. "Aren't you going to tell Jolie the truth?"
    Carlotta started the engine. "She won't approve."
    Jolie frowned and leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would allow. "What