Felicity just laughed. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure they’re going to ask you to babysit when they have kids, and they’ll do it knowing you can’t say no.”
I sobered in an instant. “Wow, do you know my sister? Because I think you spiritually channeled her there for a second.” Staring down at her offending suitcase, I ask carefully, “So, what you got in there? A severed head?”
Smiling like the Cheshire cat, she simply raised her brows, knelt down, and unzipped the bag. She peeled back the lid to unveil a portable salon. “I told you we’d make Max see you, didn’t I? I’m making good on that.”
Already shaking my head, I objected. Strongly. “No, no, no, no, no, no. N-O. No.”
Felicity smiled at me. Her bazillion dollar grin. And a smiling Felicity was something to be reckoned with. She was so damn pretty I felt I would change teams for her. “Listen, I’m not asking you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, just to let me do your makeup and dress you tonight, is all. How bad could that be? You won’t even have to pick your underwear. I’ll make it easy for you.”
I could see there was no fighting this. She had that look in her eyes. I let out a long, agonizing breath. “No short skirts. No short shorts. Nothing that’ll show my legs.”
A confused look crossed her face. She looked down at my uncovered legs and bunched her nose. “Why the hell not? You’ve got killer legs. I mean, they’re not tall, but they’re shapely and firm.” She reached down to pinch the skin of my thigh, unable to get a grip. “They’re tight, bitch. What gives?”
How to explain without sounding nuts? “Okay. This was the way it worked back home. Nina showed leg. Nat showed leg and boob. I, however, only showed a bit of cleavage. I never really liked my legs, but I like my rack. Not wanting to show too much, I always chose to expose rack, rather than leg. Capisce?”
She looked at me dumbfounded for half a minute before gaping. “You’re dumb as shit, baby. You’re lucky you’re cute to boot.” With that sentence, she showed me why I liked her. She reminded me of the relationship I have with my sisters. I loved that.
Saying that, we barely agreed on clothing. We almost got into fisticuffs over it. Finally, I decided on a multicolored green leaf-print chiffon number. The dress was long, but draped and sheer, requiring a miniskirt underneath, and showing a healthy amount of boobage. After having tried it on and examining it under every possible light source, I deemed it okay. When I gave in, Felicity almost collapsed with gratitude. “Thank fuck for that! Moving on!”
She spent a good part of the next hour doing my hair and makeup, lightly curling my dark hair, leaving it in long tresses down my back, and making my eyes dark-rimmed and smoky.
I had to admit…I liked the way she did it. It looked hot, and that’s not a word I would use to describe myself.
We argued again over shoes. I didn’t like heels, never did. I liked strappy sandals or low-heeled wedges. This was simply a comfort thing. I tried on eight pairs of shoes before Felicity let me off wearing nude strappy sandals. Thank the Lord. With myself done, Felicity got to work on herself. If I hadn’t have seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. She managed to get herself looking supermodel-runway-ready in forty minutes. And I secretly hated her for it.
She decided on a white button-up dress. Who knew she could make something so wholesome look so sexy. Undoing the top three buttons to let her black bra show, she wrapped a black belt tightly around her waist and slid on a pair of black strappy sandals. Looking down at her shoes, I scowled at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. If you were as tall as I am, you’d get it. Try meeting a guy looking like an Amazon. Guys don’t like chicks being taller than them. Sad, but true.” Running her fingers through her hair, she put on a ton of mascara and glossed her lips, then folded up the short sleeves of her dress and turned to me, grinning from ear to ear. “We look good, baby, but I swear to God if Max doesn’t notice you tonight, looking the way you do, I’ll buy you a dozen of those cupcakes you like in consolation.”
Already salivating, I almost yelled, “Deal!”
This was going to be interesting.
***
Helena
The moment we arrive at The White Rabbit, something feels different. For the first time since I’ve been in New York, I feel happy to be out amongst the people, without feeling tired. I guess everything was coming together in its own way. And I’m happy for this. Felicity and I stroll up to the entry, where B-Rock, the massive, bald-headed African-American security guard, makes us kiss his head before getting in. He is a sweet guy and tells us his wife, Honey, had just given birth to their fifth child the previous week. He gets double kisses for that.
Felicity and I hold hands as we sweep through the crowd over to the stairs, where a new Alice is manning the out-of-bounds, family-only, VIP area. Having been here a few times before, I know the protocol. Smiling, I start, “Hi. We’re on the list. Helena Kovac and friend.”
The Alice doesn’t lift her eyes to us. With her head down, she checks the list and lets us in without a word spoken. Most people would have thought that bitchy, but I can see immediately the girl is just shy and probably not used to working with people.
We make our way up the stairs, and before I hit the top step, I see them. Nat, Mimi, Lola, and Tina sit on one side of the booth, while Nik and Trick sit on the opposite side. They’re all smiling and laughing, already having a good time. I can’t help but feel my stomach coil at not seeing Max sitting there. I mean, I know the guy has to work, but I was still hoping to see him. I mentally hang my head in shame.
Okay, okay. I’ll be honest. I really just came here to see him. Ugh. I know. Pathetic.
I paste on a smile, link my arm through Felicity’s, and walk us over to the booth. “Hi, guys,” I call as we approach the side. The women turn to me smiling, but quickly gape.
Nat is the first to speak. “Holy shit.”
Tina blinks, and then adds, “Yeah, I second that.”
Lola whistles. “Damn, Lena.”
Mimi ogles me appreciatively. “Oh yeah, I’m liking that dress.”
A blush heats my cheeks. I mumble, “Ah, thanks. I don’t think you’ve met Felicity before,” then I pull her with a jerk, throwing her in the line of fire. Felicity handles it like a pro, greeting everyone with smiles, handshakes, and compliments on what they’re wearing. It’s like she was made to be around people.