Chapter 50: The Greatest Threat to a Sexy Outfit Is Ketchup

“I can’t promise that much in the way of entertainment, but at least the food will be…edible. I made sure of that,” Octavia said. She faced herself in the mirror of her room and observed her reflection.

She wore a classy-looking formal jumpsuit, one of the fancier outfits she now owned courtesy of Mrs. Santos.

The outfit was a rich black fabric that was cut to flared pant legs and a thick loosely-ruffled band of fabric wrapped around her bust, hugging her arms just below her shoulders.

Her shoulders and collarbone were left bare save for the two gold-embroidered black straps holding the outfit up.

An intricate net of golden embroidery was spread over the waist and torso of the suit, cinching the material to give the outfit a fitted look around her middle.

“Dammit,” she said. “I think this outfit is too sexy for me.”

From her seat on one of Octavia’s chairs, Lauren gave her a concerned look. “You look great, Octavia!”

“I know,” Octavia said, “that’s the problem. What happens when I do something stupid? Like spill ketchup all over the front of it?”

Lauren was puzzled. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s a law of nature,” Octavia said. “If something can be spilled, it will spill on me. It’s why I never wear white.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Lauren said, “you’ll be fine tonight.”

“Wait till Gracie gets back,” Octavia said, “she’ll tell you.”

Like it was her cue, the door opened and Gracie walked back into the room from the bathroom where she had been changing.

When Octavia turned and looked at what Gracie was wearing, her eyes slightly widened.

“Gracie,” Octavia said, “you own a dress?”

Gracie walked into Octavia’s room and flopped onto her bed. “My one and only,” Gracie said. “This right here is my funeral, wedding, and any-other-formal-occasion dress.”

Hers was a simple fitted dark-blue dress with short, tiny sleeves and a hemline that stopped at her knees.

With her long, thin frame and thick dark hair that fell down her shoulders, Gracie could have passed for a supermodel. If not for the shiny, black, combat boots on her feet.

“Isn’t this outfit too sexy for me?” Octavia asked Gracie.

“Yeah, it kinda is,” Gracie answered.

“No, it’s not!” Lauren protested. “She looks great!”

“She does,” Gracie agreed, “which will make it even more of a shame when she spills something on herself.”

Octavia gave Lauren a told-you-so look. “See?” she said. “Gracie knows me. Law of nature.”

Lauren didn’t know how to respond, so she absentmindedly smoothed the folds out of her sleeveless magenta dress.

It had a touch of puffiness to the skirt but fitted tightly around her slender waist. She’d paired the dress with black kitten heels and a simple gold bracelet on one arm to match her gold earrings.

It was the night of the launch party. Icarus Tech would be formally announcing its partnership with Curie at an exclusive venue.

All the notable business executives from just about every big company in the area, or those in close business with Icarus, would be there.

Octavia had invited Lauren, who apparently Adelaide hadn’t deemed worthy enough to attend, and Gracie.

Gracie had lazily agreed to go once Octavia assured her that she’d selected the caterers herself—the only task Octavia had insisted on having for the event.

Lauren and Octavia had headed back to Octavia’s apartment after work that day, and Gracie had joined them there after she closed up the shop. The plan was that they’d all get ready at the apartment.

Octavia, Lauren, and Gracie didn’t take long to ready themselves, but Sierra had yet to emerge from her bedroom.

Yes, Octavia had also invited Sierra. When Octavia extended the invitation to her, Sierra had responded with a screeching “yes!”

She then started detailing the outfit she was going to wear and how amazing and sexy she would look and how Raemon would have no choice to fall for her and so on and so forth.

Gracie had pulled Octavia aside and asked, “I take it she doesn’t know about your and Raemon’s…arrangement?”

“Of course not,” Octavia hissed, “she’d probably behead me in my sleep.”

Gracie said nothing but did not disagree. “And how will you keep her from finding out?”

“We’re both keeping things under wraps,” Octavia said. “As long as there is any other living being in the room, Raemon and I are one hundred percent strictly professional.”

“I hope you won’t mind watching her throw herself at your man, then,” Gracie said.

“That’s the thing about being fuck buddies, he’s not ‘mine,’” Octavia said calmly. “Sierra can throw herself at him as much as she likes.”

Still reconsidering her outfit, Octavia scratched her head, doing her best not to mess up the magnificent work Yolanda had done.

A great jumble of thick, twisted locks was collected in ornate braids on top of her head.

As a finishing touch, Yolanda had added golden hair pieces to the sides of Octavia’s head where her hair was stretched tight up her scalp.

The jewelry hair piece looked like a twisted branch with tiny leaves jutting out in places.

“Fuck it,” Octavia said. “We’re going to have to go with the sexy outfit. I’ll just stay away from all condiments.”

“Shouldn’t we be leaving now?” Lauren asked.

“We definitely should,” Octavia said, “unfortunately…we can’t.”

“Not until Sierra graces us with her presence,” Gracie said.

Just as she said that, the door burst open, and there was Sierra.

Sierra’s outfit was a bright-gold mermaid tail dress that hugged her figure from her bare shoulders—especially so at her chest and curvy behind—all the way to her knees.

At that point, the dress then flared out like a giant cupcake, all pouf and frills.

“Well?” Sierra said proudly. “What do you think?”

Octavia’s first thought was that she looked like a candlestick.

“You look like…like you could light up the entire room,” Octavia said with a sweet, earnest smile.

“But will Raemon notice me?” Sierra asked.

“I don’t think he’ll have a choice,” Gracie said.

“Right! Let’s go,” Octavia announced.

Yosef had been sent to drive them to the party. Instead of the regular SUV, he was driving a black limousine.

“Holy shit,” Sierra breathed when she saw the car that they’d be riding in.

Even Lauren’s eyes had widened. “Mr. Kentworth sent a limo for you?” she asked Octavia in disbelief.

“Uh…” Octavia started, a quick glance in Sierra’s direction, “they were out of Priuses. We really should get going—”

“Not before I get some Instagram pics,” Sierra said, whipping her phone out of her clutch purse.

By Sierra’s insistent request, Octavia took several pictures of Sierra standing in front of the limo. Then some of her just sitting inside the limo.

Then some of her thoughtfully looking out the window of the limo. Then some of her carelessly tossing her hair—in the limo.

Before she went for a picture of herself on the hood of the car, Octavia put her foot down and ordered her to get back in the car.

“Okay, okay,” Sierra said, “but how about a group photo with all of us? This is probably the only time you look remotely well dressed.”

Yosef was nice enough to take the picture of them on Sierra’s phone—and yes, per Sierra’s instructions, they all were standing in front of the limo.

“Great,” Sierra said, “I’ll caption this one, ‘girls’ night out.’ It will get soooo many likes, I just know it!”

At some point they all actually got into the car and headed off for the event. Sierra wasted no time inspecting the minibar in the limousine, and soon she was passing around glasses of champagne.

Lauren plugged the aux cord of the car’s built-in stereo system into her phone and put on the perfect riding-in-a-limousine-to-a-party-dressed-to-the-nines playlist.

When Sierra wasn’t handing her phone off to the rest of them so they could get a picture of her doing something-or-other in the limousine, they actually had a fun ride.

The event was being held at the Skyline Rooftop, a place on top of seventy-five floors of a swanky building.

It was one of those places that was talked of by many but experienced by few, where you had to know someone important just to get on the waitlist.

Exposed brick lined the short lengths of wall between the wide open space looking out to the city’s lights.

The place was decorated with fake white trees with strings of lights draping from their branches.

The entrance was lined with a white carpet, and the far edges of the space had enlarged photographs picturing artistic renditions of Icarus and Curie’s products.

Octavia and her friends helped themselves to what was on the trays of appetizers that the servers were carrying around.

“See?” Octavia said, taking a bite of one of the tiny sliders. “Actual food!”

“This tastes so good!” Lauren exclaimed. “How did you choose the caterers?”

“I just picked one off the list Adelaide gave me and told them I wanted something a lot like burgers,” Octavia said.

“I don’t think you could get anything that tastes this good at a fast-food joint,” Gracie said.

“True,” Octavia agreed with a nod, “this is from a five-star restaurant. But it’s not anything they’d have on their menu, believe me.”

“Octavia, how pleasant it is to see you this evening!” Quentin’s voice sounded as he walked up to them.

Octavia grinned at him. “Right back at you, Quentin.”

Quentin took her hand and kissed it. “You are a vision to behold.”

“Thanks,” Octavia said, “so are you.”

He was wearing something like a tuxedo, with black pants and shiny black shoes and a white shirt.

But his tuxedo jacket was electric blue, and a blue-and-yellow-patterned bow tie was fastened around his neck. He was also wearing his signature bowler hat.

“You’ve brought guests,” Quentin remarked.

“Yes,” Octavia said, “you know Lauren already, of course. And this is Sierra and Gracie.”

Quentin nodded politely to them all, seemingly not noticing the face Sierra made at his outfit. His gray eyes, however, stopped on Gracie.

“So this is the famous Gracie,” Quentin said. “Your name has come up several times when Octavia was talking.”

“Has it?” Gracie replied, her usual calm expression in place.

Quentin grinned.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve provided my technical expertise and Octavia has responded with, ‘well, Gracie would probably think differently,’ or ‘I’ll bet Gracie would choose a different piece of hardware.’

“It hurt my feelings that she held your opinion above my own.”

“Tragic,” Gracie said simply.

Quentin shrugged. “I vowed to meet the illustrious Gracie myself and find out what it is she knows that I don’t. Tell me, from which educational institution do you hail?” Quentin asked.

“Harvard? Yale? Stanford? Or are you an MIT alumnus like Octavia?”

“None of the above,” Gracie said, “I didn’t go to college.”

Quentin looked perplexed. “If I may ask, where did you acquire the vast amounts of knowledge to which Octavia always defers?”

Gracie shrugged. “At my family’s repair shop. From internet tutorials. By taking things apart. Electric devices aren’t that hard to figure out.”

That he was impressed was obvious.

“Maybe for you,” Quentin said, “but I have a number of C-minus grades to my name that suggest otherwise. How fortunate you didn’t go through the trouble of matriculation. College is a bit of a scam.”

“Which is why I never bothered,” Gracie said.

Quentin smiled at Gracie with a spark in his eye. “Now there’s something we can have a good chat about. Would you join me for a stroll about this magnificently adorned venue?”

Gracie’s lips twitched to something like a smile. “Sure.”

Quentin turned to Octavia. “Sorry to steal your friend away from you,” he said, “but you’ve had her long enough. My turn.”

Octavia smiled to herself as she watched the two of them walk away.

“Aww,” Lauren said, “how cute.”

Sierra scoffed. “I don’t see what you’re smiling about. He’s obviously gay.”

Octavia sighed. “Thanks for the heads-up, Sierra. What would we do without you to remind us of people’s sexuality? Which you obviously know of since it’s clearly your business.”

Sierra shrugged complacently. “I can just tell these things about a person, you know?”

“Sure,” Octavia said, rolling her eyes.

Sierra’s face suddenly went white, and she froze in her spot. Octavia eyed her housemate with a puzzled expression on her face.

“What the hell is wrong with—?” she started to ask before a voice interrupted her.

“I see you managed to make it here on time, Octavia,” Raemon said.