One of the advantages of her fake-marriage with Chuck — maybe the only advantage, when you thought about it — was that it had given Bee the incentive to explore more interesting stores and boutiques on Trout station than those conveniently located in the mall. 

There was a tailor’s shop, for example, where all of the clothes were very nearly out of her price range and that was owned by the Most Beautiful Woman In The World. (Chuck didn’t agree, but Chuck’s tastes were weird. He thought that pasty, sickly-looking Major Montgomery was hot, so clearly there was a problem with him.)

The shop was tucked into the corner of a nice little public plaza with real trees (not holographic ones!) and a fountain. It was a bit hard to spot if you didn’t know it was there, because the little sign in the window was subtle while the other shops around had large, constantly-moving neon displays. Bee had been introduced to it by Joan Fournier, who had purchased her wedding dress there, and she’d also gotten her own gown there in the end. It was a fantastic dress, but she did have to admit that part of the reason why she’d gone with that one and not a less expensive one was because the owner, The Most Beautiful Woman In The World (who’s name was Iris), was an excellent salesperson. 

She had that rare talent to make people feel truly at ease, while also not staring straight into their eyes. Bee knew that the generally accepted meaning of eye contact was supposed to be honesty and connection and whatnot, but she personally hated it. It was painful to maintain, she had to concentrate so hard on keeping it going that she usually ended up missing what the other person was saying, and people who made insistent eye contact with her and smiled a lot usually came across like they were trying to sell her something.

But in the case of Iris, Bee had found that either she was also not an eye-contact person, or she’d managed to get a startlingly accurate read on her very fast, because her shopping experiences at Closet Couture had always been refreshingly pleasant.

Which was why she was back here already, despite having absolutely no budget for it. Chuck was driving her up the wall and she needed to invest in some quality retail therapy, and she didn’t have the patience to fend off a stare-into-your-eyes, ask-too-many-questions retail assistant at one of the mall’s brand outlets. 

The door bell made a cheerful little noise as Bee entered the store. Closet Couture didn’t look much like a shop at all, or maybe she was just so used to the mall and it’s overcrowded racks of ready-to-wear clothes that a legitimate, rich-person tailor shop was simply blowing her mind. While there were a few mannequins wearing dresses, and some racks and shelves on the wall contained finished products, most of what was displayed in the store was fabric. Miles and miles of luxurious fabric in every colours, ready to be turned into anything that a client desired. The front of the shop was arranged into a cozy looking sitting area, with the sort of couches that boasted richly patterned velvet and sculpted wooden legs. There was a second, more intimate set of chairs half-hidden behind a row of lush potted plants, and screens that led to other sections of the shop. Bee had been here a few times by now, and she’d seen a fitting room, a studio with a large sewing table where Iris seemed to do most of her work, and also a storage space that could only be revealed by pressing on a panel in the wall. She wondered what other movie-magic wonder she would get to see next. 

Iris emerged from one of the hidden back rooms and came over to greet her. She was gorgeous today, as she was every other day. Her fluffy black hair formed an angelic halo of curls around her face, her lips were painted in a shade of amber that perfectly highlighted the warm undertones of her dark skin, and her jewelry was brazen and bold. She had on a floofy, faux-fur off the shoulders shirt in the same orange hue as her lipstick, as well as a beautiful long silver skirt that flared dramatically around her legs as she crossed the length of the shop. Bee tried valiantly not to look at said legs, because she wasn’t a degenerate. Unlike certain other people that were not to be mentioned.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite customer!” she grabbed both of Bee’s hands and held them between her own soft ones for a moment, looking her up and down as if they were old friends and not just recent acquaintances. “You’re looking good, honey. What can I do for you today?”

 Bee smiled and let herself be pulled towards the second seating area, where the large green leaves would put her out of sight of the windows and front door. Once more, either Iris was really good at intuiting what she needed, or they had met each other in another life or something. 

“Hi Iris,” she said. “I’m not really shopping for anything, but can I take a look at your designs?”

“Of course. Anything for you, girl.”

She sat Bee down on the largest sofa and pulled a small silver display pen from her pocket. She pressed the tip of it to the low glass coffee table and its surface lit up with myriads of little projected dots. Bee leaned forward and swiped her fingers at one of them. The dots were replaced with the image of a model wearing a large fur coat and a miniskirt that looked like a disco ball. She swiped again. This time the image was of a man wearing both a metallic crop top and a cape, along with a pair of low-rise, tight leather pants.

Instead of sitting in her own chair, Iris took place on the arm of Bee’s sofa and leaned her arm along the back of it, lounging casually towards her. She crossed her legs and pulled at the shining silver fabric of her long skirt. It had a tasteful slice running up the side, showcasing a glimpse of her graceful legs and a pair of yellow boots with sharp heels that Bee would never in a million years be able to pull off. Iris leaned her head on her hand and watched Bee sift through her designs.

“I don’t really have anything interesting right now for day to day wear, but if you like high-concept pieces then I’ve added a few ideas I’ve been playing with for the spring collection. They’re in the last folder.”

Bee obligingly flipped to the last folder. All of the clothes in it were outrageous and beautiful. They seemed like the sort of garments that one might see in a big-budget movie, then on expensive fashion dolls and in cosplays, until finally the designs trickled down to cheap toys and party costumes — a simplified shallow version of themselves, but still carrying the imprint of something once beautiful.

“I have no idea how you come up with these things,” she said.

“Oh, you’d be surprised. This one,” she pointed at the dress Bee was looking at, leaning her head so close that she could almost feel her large cloud of hair touch her cheek, “was inspired by a frog I saw on the holofeed.”

Bee tried not to think about soft hair and squinted at the dress in question. It was a fancy evening gown with a red leather bustier and a white & black polka dots skirt. It didn’t look like a frog at all. “No way.”

“Yes! Hold on, let me find you a picture.”

Iris pulled out her comm caster from a hidden pocket in her shirt and tapped at it for a moment, her fingers click-clacking gently against the plastic casing. Then the shimmering hologram of a frog appeared over the device. It was, incredibly, a perfect match for the dress. It’s little head and back were bright red and somewhat leather-textured, while the rest of it’s body was white with round black spots. Bee laughed and looked at the dress again.

“Incredible. I never would have thought of that.”

Iris bent forward so she could swipe to the next dress in the folder. She had to hold herself back with one arm so she wouldn’t lose her balance, and her chest pressed against Bee’s back for the space of a few seconds. Her skin was warm, and her perfume smelled like summer. This time, her soft hair definitely brushed her cheek. 

“See this one?” she said, as if she hadn’t just sent Bee’s thoughts scattering like fluffy dandelions seeds in a summer breeze. “Look at the pattern near the seams, and tell me if it reminds you of anything.”

Bee squinted at the seams as instructed, using her thumb and forefinger to enlarge the hologram as far as it would go. The pattern that Iris had indicated was a series of embroidered curving lines, all clustered very close together and radiating out to form large and small circles. 

“Are those… sun rays?” she guessed.

“Not quite, but I can see it. Actually, they’re the pattern on the underside of a specific type of mushrooms from my home planet.”

“Oh wow.” She zoomed out and considered the dress in it’s entirety, and how the pattern was integrated into a larger whole. “Are they any good? The mushrooms?”

“Absolutely not. They’re quite poisonous. That’s why I made the embroidery toxic green on a dress that’s almost entirely white. I wanted it to look dangerous. Although now that I look at it, it ended up looking quite a bit like summer, didn’t it? Like lemonade.”

“It is very lime-green,” she agreed. “Sort of… citrus-y. Sorry.”

But Iris only laughed and waved her hand breezily. “I suppose I should make a citrus-y one on purpose, then,” she said. “Maybe it will end up looking toxic and dangerous and I’ll have a matched set!”

“Or,” she mused, “you could leave it as-is and call it something like the assassination lemonade dress! Since, you know —”

Iris snapped her fingers and completed her thought. “Because you think it’s a nice refreshing glass of lemonade, but actually it’s poison! Nice. Dramatic. I like where your head is at, girl.”

They kept on scrolling through the catalog together like this for quite a while. As long as she didn’t have any other customers, Iris didn’t seem in a hurry for Bee to leave, and she didn’t want to go. She liked this insight into the other woman’s head that the discussion was bringing to light. It was fascinating.