Date: Saturday, July 18th, 2015

Time: 11:10 pm

Location: The Palace Nightclub, Los Tokyo

I was in the room when she died. Just me and her three sisters. It was hard to watch her final moments. She couldn't speak, she just laid there, her breathing labored and gasping. As mad as I was at my parents, I hoped they both died years, no decades from now, in their sleep, and not like this.

After hours of waiting and watching, trying to chat with her sisters who spoke limited English, she passed at around eight o'clock that night. We closed her eyes shut, kissed her forehead, and then talked to the unit staff about her funeral arrangements and burial.

As promised, I finalized her will before she died and was the executor of her estate. She had initially planned to give most of her money to her sisters, figuring Diego could stand on his own, but his condition made her reconsider. She changed her plans so that she could pay to store his belongings and his car.

Her sisters were entitled to the possessions in the house; they could decide amongst themselves whether they'd ship anything back home or sell it. Whatever they sold, they'd have to split the proceeds. Diego would get the profits from the sale of her house and her car, and all her savings, whatever was left, after he woke up.

Maria had agonized over this decision, wanting to set her sisters up with a better life back home. They were understanding. As a successful nurse in Japanifornia, Maria felt responsible for taking care of her family. As the youngest and the baby sister, they didn't expect that from her at all, assuming she would give everything to her only son, the same as they would do for their kids.

About a year after Maria and I cleaned Diego's apartment, I helped her sisters clean out her house. Learning how to drive had come in handy, as I shuttled Diego's stuff to a storage locker and made various car runs to the dump, the thrift store, the post office, and the homes of online ad respondents buying Maria's furniture.

After about a week of packing, with me stopping by to help as soon as I could after my workdays, they went back home, hugging me and thanking me for my help before they left. They told me happily that they would be back for the wedding, whenever it was, and I told them I'd let them know as soon as I knew.

The moment they left and the last of Maria's belongings were gone, it felt like a chapter in my life had closed for good. The only other person as devoted to him as I am, was gone.

It wasn't just that though. The other people around me changed too. Lana had grown more distant over the year, and I saw her less and less as time went on. She said she was just stressed at work, but that stress seemed to become an insurmountable barrier to our friendship.

In February, she took on a new job in the prosecutor's office. Not only was she a lawyer instead of a detective now, but she had become the Chief Prosecutor, taking over the position after the former Chief finally retired.

Lana and her boss had successfully arrested and charged a wanted serial killer, and the world became their oyster after that case. Gant moved up from deputy to Chief of Police and Lana was given the prosecutorial equivalent, despite her lack of criminal trial experience.

I texted to congratulate her after hearing the news, joking that she should only assign easy opponents for my cases from now on. She thanked me, but she didn't say much more than that. We still texted sometimes, but I haven't seen her since her promotion.

Reina got engaged on New Year's Eve and she asked me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. We saw each other a lot for a few months, as she planned her wedding and I assisted, attending dress fittings and cake tastings, and helping her to pick out flowers and decor.

She and Austin got married that May and moved into a house in the suburbs together. Shortly after, she got a new job closer to her house. We kept in touch, but it wasn't the same. We couldn't just meet for dinner or drinks in the city like we used to.

Maya, as usual, was trapped in the Village, only being allowed out on limited occasions. On one of our phone calls, I asked Maya to put Aunt Morgan on the line so I could give her an earful and Maya reluctantly agreed.

Aunt Morgan put her foot down, refusing to be flexible, but I told her she'd have to relinquish her control soon. Maya had just turned 16 and, before long, she would be an adult and free to do whatever she wanted. Aunt Morgan seemed unmoved by my argument, but I knew by the way she paused on the phone that she realized she'd be powerless the day Maya turned 18.

Feeling isolated like I did, I decided to put everything into my work. I ate, slept, and breathed law. It was the only thing I had left. My dedication paid off, and my reputation kept building with each defense case I took.

By April, I had served on 20 cases and had achieved a perfect record, not counting my devastating draw on the Terry Fawles case. No defense attorney in the city had ever done that before. No other defense attorney had access to the tools I have either, but it was still hard work, even with the aid of the magatama.

Mr. Grossberg was right. The more I won, the more in demand I became. I started getting calls all the time for my services, but I was only one person and only had so many hours in the day. Besides, some of the people who contacted me were guilty, and I didn't want any part in winning cases for them.

My reputation brought me some level of local celebrity too. The Los Tokyo Times did a feature on me after my 20th win, and photographed me outside the doors of my office, arms crossed, smiling widely. After that feature, I got even more calls from people looking for me to represent them. I also got calls of a different nature too.

As a successful and now noted lawyer, I received invitations to attend various galas, charity auctions, award ceremonies, and dinners, events I'd attend in the presence of some of Los Tokyo's most rich and powerful people.

When I first got one of these invitations, I happily accepted. I couldn't believe that at 26, a practicing lawyer for less than three years, I would be hobnobbing with celebrities, politicians, millionaires, and billionaires. I had really made something of myself.

Before the first event, I went out to a fancy department store and bought an expensive dress. I was more financially stable now with my success, but it was still way out of my budget. I hadn't even felt secure enough in my business to rent an apartment again, still living out of my office.

It was beautiful though. A form-fitting red silk dress with a square neckline and elegant draping across the chest and at my hips. I don't want to even say how much it cost because it was too much. I figured it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I thought I could splurge just this one time. I got so used to living in the office that I could do it for another month.

When I attended that first function, a charity gala for the Los Tokyo General Medical Center, the evening seemed pleasant enough at first. It was a little dry with many boring speeches and presentations, but I thought the cause was worthy, the atmosphere stunning, and the food delicious.

During breaks, some people would come up to me at my table and introduce themselves. I would explain time and time again who I was, and some claimed that they had a recollection of my article, and others had no clue. I didn't have such a big head now that I thought they should recognize me. It's just, if they didn't know who I was at all, then why was I even there?

Then, I got invited to the afterparty and the whole affair seemed less grand and Cinderella-like than I originally thought. At first, I was confused by the invitation. Why would there be an afterparty for a charity gala? Once I arrived at the party, I realized that these functions can more accurately be described as PR stunts and warm-ups for the main event.

That gala did raise millions for the hospital, but it was primarily a way to make everyone in the room look good. After they suffered through the ceremony, paid their money, and did their photo ops, they could get as drunk, high, and depraved as they wanted behind closed doors.

I found the whole thing appalling. These glamorous celebrities, politicians, and high-powered businessmen all seemed awe-inspiring when you only saw them on TV, in movies, and on the news. In person, they were stumbling around, talking over each other, flirting sloppily, and getting into petty arguments. It was like a trainwreck; I wanted to leave, but I couldn't look away. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

I had a few men approach me over the night and that almost pushed me out of there. Almost. They tried to grab me by my waist, my arm, or my hand and lead me to some dark corner of the room or to a private room, but I always pulled away. They were surprised at my resistance but, alternatively, I was surprised by their boldness. I didn't recall asking them to touch me.

Eventually, one of them asked me if I was an escort and, instantly, I got pale and clammy. When I didn't answer, he assured me that he meant a high-class one. I wanted to scoff but remained frozen instead. That's not what I took issue with, asshole.

I'm a defense lawyer; why did they even invite me here? Did they think I would just fall into that role the second I stepped through the door and saw a few famous people?

The woman on the phone, the one who sent me the invitation, said that everyone was impressed with my dedication to the law and my pursuit of justice. Here, no one gave a damn about that. They reduced me to my looks and didn't care about my job.

If they knew who I was then they would probably be more self-conscious because I was cataloguing a lot of illegal activity in this room. Then again, maybe not. There were some corrupt police officers, lawyers, and politicians here who had turned a blind eye.

I went to leave but, before I could, the man pulled on my arm. "You aren't one of those cupcakes who works for Redd White, are you?" he asked.

My mouth was agape. "What did you just say?"

"Listen, tell him I'll pay him what he wants, and this never happened. I can't risk the scandal and my wife will kill me."

I asked him for his name, and he gave it without hesitation, telling me he was a senator. I assured him that I didn't work for Redd White and offered to chat with him at one of the booths of the club. Even though I kept my distance while we were seated, he must have thought I was interested and spilled every detail about how Redd White had blackmailed him.

Once I had all the information, I told him I was getting tired and had to leave. He thought that was an invitation, but I instructed him to sit back down. I winked and smiled, telling him I'd see him at the next event. He was too drunk to realize that he had been swindled and smiled back, letting me leave without protest.

I had no intention of seeing him again. As soon as I made it to the office that night, I wrote down everything he told me and put it into a new case folder. I looked him up and recorded any background information that I could find online or in court records.

I looked up Redd White too but found very little. Despite his omnipresence, nothing about him leaked unless he wanted it that way; he kept a tight control on his image.

Then, I stashed that file folder in one of my desk drawers. I wasn't sure what I'd do with it until I got another invite, three weeks later. This time to a black-tie chamber of commerce awards ceremony. Something inside me told me that I shouldn't go, but I ignored it. I wanted to see if I could gather more information about Redd White and his victims.

Sure enough, there was another crazy afterparty and I was invited to attend again. This time, people seemed to know who I was, having seen me at the last event or my name listed underneath some of that event's photos.

Despite knowing that, they treated me in much the same way. The only difference this time was that some of them wanted legal help, and I had to find ways to delicately decline. I didn't need the magatama to know they were guilty of whatever it was they were accused of.

That same senator from the last event wasn't there, but there were other men eager to talk with me. I had to maintain a fine balance, trying to seem vacant and naive enough that they felt comfortable talking to me and guarded enough that I could find a moment to get away unscathed, without scorn or accusations of being a tease.

It was a tough tightrope act to walk. Part of me wanted to go full airhead and just giggle and play stupid so they would underestimate me completely. They probably would have fallen for it too. Somehow, they were able to hold two contradictory ideas in their head: That I was this brilliant lawyer who could defend them out of their legal issues, but also just a dumb girl who waited on bated breath every time they spoke.

I couldn't do it though. It would be exhausting to keep that act up, and I thought my cover would be blown if I ever ran into someone that I knew who could tell I was acting inauthentic. Luckily, it didn't take as much manipulation as I expected for them to reveal their secrets. Unlike the senator from the first event, they had enough sense to cover for themselves but were happy to divulge the secrets of those they knew who were tricked by Redd White.

While the men were easy, with women it was a little harder to get them to reveal that information. There were some women at the party who were interested in people of the female persuasion, and, for them, the tactic was similar. Otherwise, I had to work harder to befriend them and earn their trust until they gossiped about something worth writing down.

After two events where I spent the whole night trying to extract information from the other guests, I was certain that I'd end up on a blacklist and not be invited back. That didn't end up being the case. The event organizers had decided that a younger woman like me was a good fit for photo ops and they liked having me front row center in many of the pictures.

Somehow, people trusted me too. I thought they wouldn't since it seemed obvious what I was doing. However, the familiar faces I saw at these events always seemed happy to see me every time I showed up.

I guess, even if they didn't know it, I was technically on their side. I didn't care if their corruption or adultery was revealed to the public, but I did care about stopping Redd White.

Then too, despite all the shocking secrets they revealed to me, none of them ever leaked to the press. I kept that information to myself, with my only use for it being ammunition. Once I had a big enough list of victims, and a thorough case file, I could bring forward a case to the police, the non-corrupt ones, and bring him down.

I felt like a movie spy: dressing in fancy outfits, playing a part, and gathering intel. My "missions" could feel rather demeaning though. While I kept my guard up and was prepared to deflect any physical contact, there were inevitably moments when my vigilance slipped for a second and someone would touch or grope me.

Since I had to look the part too, people were constantly leering at me. With all this attention, I should have felt beautiful, but all I felt was objectified. Like some piece of meat.

I often would need to go to the bathroom and take some deep breaths to calm myself down. Tonight, at one of these parties, I was standing in front of the mirror, doing just that, when Emilia, another frequent attendee, walked in and stood in front of the mirror next to me, touching up her make-up.

Emilia was so glamorous that I thought for sure she was a model or actress at first. At a previous event, I asked if I had seen her in something before and she laughed and told me that she wasn't an actress, but her job did involve a lot of "faking it".

"You okay?" she asked sympathetically before she reapplied her red lipstick.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you," I said shakily. "These events always make me so anxious."

She smiled mysteriously. "Well, no one at these parties is working as hard as you."

I looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"I've noticed what you've been up to. I don't know why you're doing it, but I've been paying attention." She turned to me and mimed zipping her lips before smiling again. "Our little secret though."

I smiled back at her. "Thank you. I'd explain, but it'd take too long."

"I'm sure you have a good reason." There was a beat. "Is your fiancé okay with what you've been up to?"

"My fiancé?" I asked incredulously. I had never worn the ring to one of these events, even the first gala. I didn't want anyone to ask me about it the first time, and then I couldn't wear it any other time because it would hamper my ability to gather information.

"I saw your LT Times article a few months ago. You were wearing an engagement ring in the pictures."

I exhaled, laughing. "I think you're the only person here who knows how to read. They say they know who I am, but no one ever mentions that picture or that article to me."

"Honestly, I don't think they'd care anyway. Half the people here are cheating on their partners. You and your fiancé have an arrangement?" she asked.

"We broke off our engagement," I lied. The truth, once again, was too hard to explain.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm not surprised. I had a fiancé before too. As much as men say they're okay with it, and as much as you insist that it's all just a job, they don't understand." She sighed. "I don't blame them, really. I'm almost 30 and I think I need to get the hell out of this business. It's soul-crushing."

I didn't know how to respond. Her and my work were quite different and there were many lines I would not cross. In my head, I jokingly referred to myself as a honey pot without the honey. A dark joke, but I found it amusing somehow. I didn't want to insult her by pointing out that difference. She was one of the few people I liked at these events.

She did have a point too. If Diego was awake, I don't think he'd be pleased with me degrading myself in this way. He'd just have to understand. This wasn't just some silly speeding ticket; it was the man who destroyed my mom's life. Besides, interacting with these people only made me more in love with him. They completely disgusted me.

"I know how you feel," I finally replied. "It's never too late to go back to school," I encouraged her.

She smiled feebly. "Thanks. I don't think I'm cut out to be a lawyer like you, but there's probably something else I'd be good at." She latched her clutch shut. "See you in the lion's den," she said sarcastically before exiting.

Date: Thursday, September 24th, 2015

Time: 3:55 pm

Location: Bella's Bridal Boutique, Los Tokyo

I was about four months into my double life now and had started to accumulate a lot of information about Redd White's victims, but very little about the man himself. From news articles and interviews with him I could piece together that he was in his late-30s, had started his company Bluecorp about fifteen years ago, and that he was an extravagant person, dressing flamboyantly in bright-colored suits with ostentatious jewelry.

Occasionally, a little kernel of information would slip out about him though. I found out from one partygoer that his name wasn't actually Redd, it was Rhett, like Rhett Butler from Gone with the Wind. She said that he was originally from the Southern US too, but he had worked tirelessly to hide his accent and take on that yuppie affect he has now. I had watched a few interviews with him online and I could catch some subtle moments where he slipped, but I had to watch carefully for it.

He had changed his name to Redd and named his company Bluecorp because he liked the red, white, and blue color association with US patriotism. When the US loosened their immigration restrictions to Japanifornia in the '90s, he moved here as a young man to try and make a name for himself.

At the time, the country was still experiencing a painful recession, one that didn't cease until the early 2000s. California had struggled to stand on its own after the secession, with many businesses and important people packing up and leaving for the US before they got trapped. Even Hollywood, one of California's staple industries, had splintered in half. Half the major studios stayed, and the rest moved to New York or Las Vegas.

The USA, by contrast, was doing better than ever. To squash any temptation from other states to leave, they imposed harsh economic sanctions on California. To incentivize loyalty, they shored up their relationships with their territories, granting official statehood to Guam, American Samoa, Puerto Rico, and the US Virgin Islands.

Japan, who was in the midst of an economic bubble in the '80s and viewed money as no object, saw dollar signs in their eyes when they purchased a collapsing California. They were interested in their long Pacific coastline, their natural resources, their agricultural sector, and their proximity to the rest of North America for trade.

When Japan unified with California, the transition was as ham-fisted as you could possibly imagine. They arbitrarily divided California into three sections and Japan into three sections, forming a union of six states. They smashed the two countries' names together rather than coming up with an elegant alternative. They made English and Japanese the official languages and required both English and Japanese on all signage. However, almost no one in the continental region of the new nation could speak Japanese and residents of the Japanese archipelago primarily spoke Japanese.

They started renaming cities and famous landmarks in California, a decision that greatly angered many of the locals, particularly the Spanish-speaking and Indigenous citizens whose languages were used to name many of California's most famous places. Los Angeles became Los Tokyo and so on and so forth. The names sounded stupid, and it was a financial and administrative nightmare to force everyone to take on new mailing addresses.

When they started doing the same thing to smaller cities and towns, the locals protested enough that the renaming stopped, keeping the remaining names intact. The continental region now had a patchwork of the two naming conventions.

This naming process never made its way over to Japan either. They were happy to change our cities to increase cultural unity but didn't care to do that for their cities. We now had a Tokyo and a Los Tokyo in the same country. There had been petitions to change the name back to Los Angeles, but residents who remembered the headache of last time couldn't be bothered.

A consistent lawbook was a hard thing to develop too, as California's legal system was based on the US system which was in turn inspired largely by English common law. Japan's legal system was nothing like that at all. It was hard to connect the two systems together or for politicians to reach an agreement. Japanese politicians had their own beliefs and Californians did as well, and neither wanted to compromise their ideals.

Then, the bubble burst in 1990 and all that cultural strife, the legal complexities, and the irresponsible spending came to roost. Not only were we a country of clashing cultures, but we became even more economically devastated than we had been immediately following the secession. As a result, desperate times called for desperate measures and crime started to spike, eventually leading to the harsh justice system we have today.

The economy has mostly recovered, especially after the US ended its sanctions and allowed more free-flowing immigration. Americans started to move some of their operations back to our country, started trading freely with us, and began living here again or buying vacation homes.

The housing market, once an investment black hole, had swung back with a vengeance. Unfortunately, only the wealthiest in Japanifornia and wealthy Americans seemed to profit, with the market becoming increasingly hostile and unaffordable to low- and middle-income locals.

With all that background in mind, Redd White had developed Bluecorp's brand image to appeal to Japanifornians who still had strong US pride and loyalty. The decision to secede had barely passed on the vote back in 1977, and those old enough to remember before the split in 1980 were still bitter over the direction that the country had taken.

Even though crime has improved slowly, and cultural harmony has increased, the three-day trial law was implemented in 2011 to help stem the ongoing crime problem even further. With Japanifornia still being far from perfect, these comparisons to the US were still on everyone's minds.

Despite his successful branding and generally positive public image, it was unclear how his business had anything to do with US patriotism and restoring the glory of California in days of yore. However, many people bought into it anyway.

Counterintuitively, despite being a smarmy millionaire, the wealthiest were the only ones who seemed to have an issue with him and his business, knowing what went on behind the scenes. He made sure to donate to charities and be present at volunteer events to keep his image favorable with the lower-income residents.

I'm sure some of those residents knew or had heard rumors about his corruption but high wealth inequality and "eat the rich" sentiments meant they didn't care about rich people getting blackmailed.

All that background information was intriguing but, unfortunately, not helpful for building a case. While I had a list of names of those who had been hurt by him, no one would go on the record for fear of retaliation. I had yet to prove his involvement indisputably, with all that information being hearsay. I needed at least one solid case that I could present. Once everyone else felt safe to come forward, his house of cards would start tumbling over.

Despite his extravagant appearance, he didn't lead the debaucherous life of the rich and powerful. He was a teetotaler, he didn't gamble, and he didn't have affairs, despite the gaggle of attractive young women he hired at his company. He had other well-paid people who did his dirty work for him, and he was never at these parties. I could never catch him doing his work.

So, for now, I just kept attending every one of these events I was invited to, as much as I didn't want to, hoping that someday I would get the break in the case I needed. All these functions inevitably brought me here, to a bridal store. Today, I was looking for an evening dress to wear for an event on Saturday.

That beautiful red dress I bought for my first event, the one I thought I'd cherish forever and would be a once-in-a-lifetime purchase, was no longer in my possession. Although I could only get back half the money I had spent on it, I needed to sell it to buy another dress for another event. I made the mistake of wearing that same one to two events and people mocked me for it.

I couldn't afford to buy a designer dress every time though. It would be years, if ever, before I'd have that kind of money. I tried thrift stores and prom dress shops before eventually settling on this bridal boutique that Reina took me to for her wedding. The bridesmaid dresses were not as pretty as that first one, but I could sometimes get one on clearance for $100 and dress it up with good makeup and styling to make it look more expensive.

I normally would go dress shopping on the weekend, but I had a case tomorrow, it could carry over into Saturday, and I wouldn't have time. I closed the firm down early so I could pick one out and then will go back to the office tonight to prepare for my case.

The clerks at this shop had gotten used to me and would normally greet me by name before leaving me to my own devices. Not today though. There was a different woman attending to me.

"Hi, can I help you with anything?" she asked. "Is there a certain style or color you're looking for?" she added.

"Thanks, but not really," I said friendlily. "I just need something nice that fits me and that I can take home today."

"So, this isn't for a wedding?"

"Last-minute event," I clarified.

She nodded. "Gotcha. Well, if you need a different size, let me know. We keep some out back."

"Thank you," I said politely, continuing my search of the racks.

"Do you have your wedding dress yet?" she asked.

"Sorry?"

"I just noticed your beautiful ring. We do carry wedding dresses here too."

Maybe I shouldn't have worn it here today. I had just gotten used to the boutique staff leaving me alone. There also weren't many places where I could wear it anymore. I couldn't wear it at work in case that information made its way back to the wrong people, but all I did was work.

I laughed. "You must work on commission here," I joked.

She smiled. "Not exactly. I'm the shop's owner."

"Oh." I paused. "I didn't mean that in a rude way. So, you're Bella?"

She laughed. "Don't worry. I'm just very enthusiastic, hence the shop." She lowered her voice. "I'll let you in on a little secret; my name is not really Bella. The name just sounded better."

"Right." We stood and looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. "Well, guess I better keep looking for a dress for my event."

"Is there a style of wedding dress you like?"

"I don't know," I said hesitantly. I was hoping I could be in and out of here in 30 minutes. "I don't have a date set for the wedding."

"The earlier you look, the better. Gives us time to order it in and for a seamstress to tailor it."

"Right, of course. It's just...my fiancé is a bit indisposed at the moment. We can't pick a date until he's back."

"Is he in the military?"

"Yes, he's deployed," I lied. "Um, indefinitely."

"I thank him for his service," she said sincerely.

"Uh, thank you. He says it's an honor to serve." I laughed nervously.

"Let me know when you need a fitting room," she said brightly. "The shop is slow today, so I'll pick some styles I think you may like, and you can try those on too." She started walking away to peruse the wedding dress section. "No pressure to buy," she called out.

"O-okay," I reluctantly agreed.

Sometimes I didn't even bother to try on the dresses I bought. A lot of them came from the same manufacturer so I knew what size I took, or I was pretty good at judging by looking at them.

However, since she had a fitting room set up for me, I tried them on. No surprise, all three that I selected fit, and I decided to purchase them all. It would make for an expensive day, but it would save me another trip here and another potential ordeal with the owner.

After that, she brought over six different wedding dresses that she had picked out, all six in widely different styles ranging from a poufy ballgown with off-the-shoulder sleeves to a slinky slip dress made of cream-colored satin.

"I'm supposed to try all of these on?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"I know! I got a little excited picking them out," she replied enthusiastically. "You have such a lovely figure; I think they all would look so nice."

I smirked. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

She smirked back. "Looking at them all laid out, is there any dress you don't like?"

"Hmm..." At a glance, none of them were offensive, but I wanted to rule out at least a few of them so I could leave quicker.

"You don't have a vision in mind?" she asked.

"Not at all."

"We'll try them all then!"

She carefully undid the buttons on the ballgown first and laid it on the floor of the changing area. "Once you have the dress on, get me to help you with the back," she instructed. I nodded. When it was on and buttoned, she got me to stand on a pedestal in front of a full-length three-panel mirror. "What do you think?" she asked.

It was beautiful but too overwhelming for me. I couldn't imagine walking around in it for more than a half hour and the off-the-shoulder sleeves were bugging me. "I don't think so," I said nicely.

"I don't either," she agreed. "I didn't take you for a ballgown girl. Sometimes, I like to show customers styles they don't think they'll like, just so we can definitively rule on it."

She got me to try on three of the others. They were all nice, but I didn't feel anything. I assumed I was supposed to feel strongly about the dress, but I just didn't.

"I really think you'll like this one," she said optimistically. Maybe, but I could have sworn that she said that about the last three.

This time she was right though. It was a halter dress with a v-neckline, fitted until about the knee, and then gently flaring out at the bottom. It was made of a soft and shiny jersey material, overlaid with large lace scallop shells that ran the whole length of the dress. At the bottom edge of each lace scallop shell was a thin line of tiny crystal accents that made the dress look shimmery at certain angles.

I didn't say anything, and she didn't ask me how I felt. She just went to a drawer in the room and grabbed a few hair accessories. She pinned my hair to one side with bobby pins and then strategically placed a comb with crystal accents near my ear.

"With loose curls and some jewelry, you would look perfect. What do you think?"

I nodded and smiled. "I agree."

She jokingly raised her fists in triumph. "I knew it!" She grabbed something else from her drawer: an instant camera. "Do you want a picture? You're not ready to buy today, right?"

I shook my head. "I wish, but no." She looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. "A picture is fine though," I confirmed.

After the picture, I took the dress and accessories off and went to the register to pay for my three bridesmaid dresses. After the transaction, she handed me the developed picture which now had a string of numbers and letters written on the white space with permanent marker.

"I wrote the dress's code underneath the photo," she explained. "Once you pick a date, you can come back here with your entourage and this photo, and I can find the same dress easily."

I swallowed. Even under better circumstances, Diego finally awake, there would be no tearful movie moment. I'd be lucky if I could get Maya here with me and Mom probably won't be coming back any time soon.

"Thank you," I said weakly, holding up the photo. "This really means a lot."

She beamed. "Anytime! These moments are what I live for."