Emily had given me all of three days to grieve my five-year marriage—not that I needed to mourn—before coaxing me into attending a business party. 

She dragged me into my bedroom to find the perfect outfit. But it wasn't easy. After rummaging through the closet, she'd chosen a black blazer and skirt combo along with a light-gray collared blouse.

"There," said Emily with an air of finality, "that should do the trick. Try that with the black pumps and black tights. That's kind of your style...conservative librarian with a hint of chic."

When fashion designers made clothes, they created them for people like Emily. My whole life I'd wondered if I would meet such a person. Everything fit her to a tee, though. 

My best friend sported a slender physique crafted by daily runs and a healthy, balanced diet. Sure, she complained about needing to buy long sizes because she was five-foot-nine.

But me?

Suits never fit me quite right. Despite my five-foot-two frame, I sported broad man shoulders, a long torso, and disproportionately short legs. Even the petite sizes didn't work well for me.

Not to mention designers often failed to account for female curves of any note.

Should really take a page out of her book. I'm a dumpy little unicorn.

Tugging at my black blazer, I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Her extroverted self loved going to events and mingling in crowds. Me? Not so much.

It wasn't that I was shy. In front of a classroom I exuded confidence and strength because I knew what to say and what to do. Starting professional small talk in front of strangers, though? Ugh!

"Did you or did you not say that you needed more clients?" she asked with a pointed look that brooked no argument.

"You know how much I hate parties."

"This isn't a party." Emily added the finishing touches to highlight her bronze skin and sharp blue eyes before offering to tackle my pasty, nondescript face. "It's a networking event."

"Which is basically an even scarier party," I retorted, "where I try to impress influential people I don't know."

"I'll be there."

"If I cling to you the whole time, neither one of us will find many clients, will we?"

"This will be perfect for both of us." Emily ordered me to look up and frowned in concentration as she applied tasteful makeup. "Companies need language specialists to help them conduct business. In fact, one of my contacts is dying to meet you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he needs a freelance consultant to translate German documents," she replied. "You'd be working from home, so you can fit it around other projects. Perfect, right?"

"Yeah, actually." My heart thudded with equal amounts of anticipation and nerves. "How do you know him?"

"Neil and I attend networking events all the time, and he asked me if I could recommend a colleague." She shrugged. "I mentioned your background, and he sounded impressed."

"Em, I don't know how to thank you..."

"If you make a deal, you can buy me dinner," she said with a curled lip.

"Gosh, what do I say?" My heart fluttered with nerves thinking up a scenario. "Hey, Mr. Super Important Businessman. I'm great at languages and shit, so here's my card?"

She put down the compact with a heavy sigh. "Preferably avoid pejorative language."

"Thaaanks, I kinda knew that already."

"In all seriousness Neil is super polite and friendly," she said. "Think of it like a casual getting to know you interview. Listen and give meaningful responses. Try to find common ground. Build some rapport so he remembers you from the rest. Ask about him and his business. Things like that."

"No pressure, then."

"Trust me, hon. You'll do great." She flashed a perfect smile when she led me to a full-length mirror. "I've transformed you into even more of a beauty, Vee. What's your verdict?"

"Love the makeup and my hair. But I'm not so sure about this suit. Is it too tight?" I fidgeted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable in my own skin. "You look great, whereas I look—"

"Gorgeous!"

"Does it show too much?"

"Hell, no! It hugs your curves while being modest." Emily stared at me through the mirror, standing behind me and coaxing my unruly dark waves into submission. "What I would give to have those amazing boobs."

"They're not as great as you'd think."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, they attracted Dumbbutt for one thing."

"Ugh!" Emily pulled a face. "Who cares about that idiot?"

"Right?"

"Let's call a spade a spade." She chortled. "They would attract most people who like boobs."

"Yeah, well..." I tugged at my bra. "You can't go braless. You can't find clothes that fit. And they make your back hurt, especially when you've already had a back operation."

Emily's expression morphed into one of genuine concern. "How are you healing up?"

"My back's better now, thanks." I shrugged. "I can do pretty much anything I want except wear high heels. Can't stay in any one position for too long either."

She snickered.

I cast her an evil look through the mirror. "I mean sitting, standing, or lying down."

"That basically covers most of the possibilities."

"Would you stop?" I gave her a playful tap with a formal leather handbag she'd lent me, and we both giggled. "Seriously, though. I love my new look, Em. What would I do without you?"

She held out the crook of her arm in jest, and I interlocked mine with hers. "Let's get 'em, tiger."

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Word count: 897
Total word count: 3,595