First thought: pink meringue explosion. Second thought: Jordan wore a frock more tasteful when she married Whatshisface. Third thought: I cannot go out in this monstrosity, it’ll end my career.
‘Put it on. Or else.’
‘Or else what?’
Why would Tasha want me to be seen in this dress-shaped catastrophe?
‘Or else you call Marc to tell him the wedding’s off.’
Take that, Little Ms Hotshot Designer, Tasha smirks at me.
She thinks she’s got me. I tear the frills off the eyesore and wear it inside out.
Tasha’s eyes flare up. I’ve ruined her night.