Painted Lady {h.s}

yellow

★ LORELAI ★

January 18th
1998

"Monica, I'm quitting. I just helped an eighty-year old woman put a thong on, and she didn't even buy it." The television plays at a quiet volume as I sit on the couch peacefully.

It's nearing seven o'clock at night, so Harry should be on his way home soon. I always look forward to when he comes home, not because we do anything grand, but because I have someone to sit and watch television with. That person used to be Faye, but she kinda works for the band right now. At least that's what Harry tells me. Apparently she helps them with their setlist, and getting everything perfect. I've told Harry that I would love to help out as well, but he says with the amount of people there already, it's stressful enough. I've learned to stop trying to interject myself into the band's rehearsals and just let them surprise me with everything when the time comes. Yes, that means I'll continue to be isolated at home until the tour starts, but I'd like to think it'll all be worth it in the end.

My phone rings on the coffee table, and I lazily lean forward to grab it. I flip it open, seeing Harry's name illuminate the small screen. He's probably calling asking if I've eaten anything yet, like he always does when he's headed home. My thumb presses the answer button and I raise it to my ear.

"Hello?" I speak into the phone.

"Hey, baby," He speaks slowly on the other end. "I sent a car to come pick you up in about fifteen minutes and take you to the loft. I was thinking we could go out to dinner tonight."

"Harry, I'm in my pajamas still!" I laugh, quickly standing from the couch.

"Then you better get a move on! Wear something nice." I can hear his smirk through the phone.

"Harry!" I groan, hating the feeling of being rushed.

"See you soon, I love you." The line goes dead and I sigh into the open air.

I rush into our room, instantly heading for my closet. I riffle through my clothing, not being able to decide in such a short amount of time. He said to wear something nice, but that could range from some formal pants and a blouse to a ball gown. I grab a few options of mid length dresses, throwing them onto the bed behind me. Before I give myself anymore time to stress about it, I call the one person who I know can help.

The line rings as I wait for her to answer, "Faye?"

"Hey Lori," She speaks breathlessly.

"I desperately need your fashion advice," I plead into the phone.

"You called the right person."

"Okay, so Harry said he's taking me out to dinner tonight and to dress nice but I don't know which dress to wear."

"What are our options?" She asks, and I don't even have to send her any pictures since she practically built my wardrobe herself.

"I can wear that pink glittery dress that I wore to their showcase,"

"No, you've worn it around him already. We need something fresh."

"Uh... I have a black mid length dress. It's basic, a staple, couldn't go wrong with it."

"Basic means boring. Anything else?" I can hear the stress in her tone, which only stresses me out further.

"I have this blue, maxi, slip dress, but it's kinda sheer..." I stare at the thin material on the bed.

"The one with rhinestones and a scoop neck?" She asks.

"Yeah," I sigh.

"That's it. That's the one," She says assuredly, and all I can do at this point is trust her.