Operation One Night Stand (22 page)

T
he week flew by without a call from Ryan or, for that matter, Brian.
Instead of obsessing over the lack of contact, I threw myself into my work, much to Yolanda’s pleasure.
We were nearly done with Michael’s book and looked to be on schedule with the release date, a mere six months away.
In the publishing world, six months was quick.
Of course, the manuscript was edited multiple times long before I arrived to work on the final round.
I was happy that Yolanda was pleased with my work and even happier that she’d expressed that happiness with Mr.
Little.

I woke up Saturday morning ready for a day of preparation.
I’d come to learn the dinner I was attending was actually a pretty big deal for Michael and the publisher.
What had slipped past me was the novel had been optioned for a movie and the screenplay was nearly finished.
It was exciting to be part of something so big, especially for a first project.

There would be numerous media outlets attending and I was being trusted as the face of the publisher.
No stress or anything.

Staring in the mirror, my face freshly washed, I leaned in only to find a long scraggly gray hair protruding from my eyebrow.
Mortified, I grabbed the tweezers from the drawer and plucked the rogue old-lady hair from my face.
Somewhat satisfied but still aghast at the fact that I was getting gray hair, even if it was only in my eyebrows, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and walked to the kitchen to refill my empty coffee mug.

Sarah still wasn’t home.
She’d spent the night at Drew’s apartment.
As a matter of fact, she’d spent three nights at his place during the past week.
I was happy that she’d hit it off with someone so quickly.
As a general rule, Sarah was ridiculously picky when it came to guys and usually liked the freedom the single life afforded her.
But, according to our conversation the day before, none of us was getting any younger.
The thought of turning thirty freaked her out and Drew came along just in time to ease the blow, or at least muddy the view of the big three-oh.

As for me?
I still had a year and a half until I had to meet my next decade, a small victory for being the youngest in my tiny group of three.
I didn’t have too much time to mull over life changes.
I had a date with a personal trainer before I plopped myself in the chair of my hairdresser, who had agreed to do something fun with my continuously out-of-control curls.

It wasn’t until three on the afternoon of the party slash dinner slash whatever it was that I found myself back in my apartment.
Sarah was emptying grocery bags and dancing to the newest pop station.
Bouncing around the kitchen singing about being happy, she was startled to see me standing across the counter with an amused grin on my face.

“Welcome back.”

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Imagine how I felt.
I haven’t seen you much over the past week.
I wasn’t sure if I was seeing a ghost.”

“Ha ha.
Funny, Care.
Your hair looks great!”
She reached over and ran her fingers through the front.
My hairdresser had trimmed my hair and spent two hours straightening it.
Now, instead of falling to my shoulders, my hair reached down to the middle of my back.
I had to admit, I loved it.
But then again, what curly-haired girl doesn’t dream of straight hair?
I resigned myself to the fact that once I showered, it would kink back up.
At least for one night, I could feel like a princess.

Sarah returned to emptying the grocery bags.
“What time are you leaving for that dinner thing?”

“The car is picking me up at six.
I told Yolanda to have the driver pick up Brian and Siobhan first, just to give me a bit of extra time to get ready.”

“Speaking of Brian, have you talked to him?”
Sarah asked over her shoulder as she put a carton of almond milk in the fridge.
I crinkled my nose a bit; almond milk was gross.

“Nope.”
I hung my coat on the hook.
“Haven’t talked to Ryan, either.
Michael, of course, has been in constant contact.”

“Isn’t he away?”

“Yep.
Well, he was.
He got in last night, I think.”
Hopping up on the stool, I grabbed a handful of grapes and popped them in my mouth.
“Didn’t stop him from e-mailing, texting, calling.
You know, normal weirdo author stuff.
I think he’s OCD or something.
He kept making sure the plans were on schedule.”

“Will you be driving with him, too?”

“No.
He’ll meet us there.
He lives in the city, so I think it makes the most sense.”

“You’ll be back late?”

“Not sure.
I think so.
I’ll call you and let you know.
You staying here tonight?”

“Yeah.
I miss my bed.
Drew’s is nice but I don’t get much sleep when I’m there.
Almost a week of fugglesnucking has worn me out.”

“Fugglesnucking?”

“Yeah, you know.
When all the snuggling and fucking are over and you’re back to snuggling and thinking of sneaking in another quickie.
And then you do it instead of thinking about it.”

Leave it to Sarah to add another word to the dictionary.
“Sounds tiring.”

Sarah smiled.
“It is.”

“I bet.”
Wiggling my eyebrows, I hopped off the stool and grabbed the makeup bag I’d just purchased and filled.
“I gotta go rest up before I put on my face.”

Looking at the clock on the stove, Sarah replied, “Yeah.
It’ll take you three hours to do that.”

“I want to take my time.
What if I mess up?
You remember the last time I tried to do a smoky eye?”

Sarah made a face and shivered.
“You’re right.
Better start now.”

I heard her giggle before turning up the music and I imagined her bouncing along to the newest boy band release.
Shaking my head, I closed my bedroom door.

Flopping on my unmade bed, I stared at the ceiling and finally took notice of the knots in my belly.
I was excited to see Brian, to see him all dressed up.
I was nervous about the fact that I was tapped to introduce Michael to the attendees.
Reaching down, I shuffled my hand blindly through my purse, looking for the index cards that held the small introduction Yolanda had written for me.
Finding them, I brought them to my face and read them over and over until I was sure I had the words memorized.
The clock read 3:55 before I decided it was time to start getting ready.
Grabbing my makeup bag, I made my way to the bathroom and got to work on my face.

Thankfully, the girl at the makeup counter had understood my need for understated.
On a regular day, my routine involved little more than pressed powder, mascara, and lip gloss.
Of course, that wouldn’t do for the event, so I purchased new blush, eye shadow, and lipstick.
Considering I couldn’t remember the last time I used such things, I was wary of painting my face with the items I already owned.

It took three tries and quite a bit of makeup remover before I got my eyes right.
Adding in a bit of blush and fluffing my hair a bit, I was pleased with the final results.

In my room, I pulled out the body slimmer Yolanda had chosen.
Off my body, it looked about five sizes too small.
I stared at it lying on my bed while I fastened my strapless bra.
The tags were still on the slimmer, and reading the directions, I saw I was supposed to step into it “for better results.”
Not sure what that meant, I figured I might as well do as instructed.
I had it pulled halfway up my thighs before yelling to Sarah for help.

“What are you doing?”
she asked as she walked into my room.

“I think it’s twisted.”

“I think you’re right.”
She laughed at my predicament.

“Shut up and just help me pull it up.”

Sarah and I grabbed and tugged for a few minutes, untwisting the thing before we were able to stretch it up to the bottom of my bra.

I tried to take a deep breath but only managed to squeak out what little air was left in my lungs.
It felt tighter than it had when I bought it.
Stupid morning croissants.
“Jesus.
People wear these things?”

“Um, yeah.
It smooths you out.
You’ve really never worn one before?”

“That’s what Yolanda said.
And no.
Never.”
I turned side to side to look at myself in the full-length mirror.
“It had to be a man who invented these things.”

“Give it a little bit.
You’ll forget it’s on.”

“Can I even eat in this?”
I splayed my hands across my stomach; I couldn’t imagine stretching out the fabric any further.
As it was, I thought I would split a seam.

“Yeah.
A few peas and a sip of water.”
Sarah plopped onto my chair.
“Where’s the dress?”

I took it down from the back of my closet door and unzipped it from its plastic encasement.
“All this trouble for a dress.”
I smoothed my hands down the silky fabric of the undergarment.
“I feel like I’m stuffed in a fucking sausage casing.”

Sarah grabbed the tag.
“For a dress that cost almost as much as your half of the rent!
Put it on.”
She took the dress off the hanger and held it out.

I stepped into the dress and slipped my arms in the small holes until it settled off my shoulders.
“Can you zip me?”

Sarah zipped the dress and I stood back and admired myself in the mirror.
I was shocked to see that I didn’t look like the young kid I was sure everyone took me as.
I looked professional.
Sexy.
“Wow.”

“Yeah.
Wow.”
Sarah stepped back.
“You know it’s going to be twenty degrees out tonight?”

“So?”

“So, your legs are bare.”

“Huh?”

“You need pantyhose.”

“What the fuck.
Now I have to do this all again?
I don’t think I have the strength to peel this slimmer thing off then put it back on.”

“Hold on.”
Sarah ran out of my room and returned a few minutes later with a slim envelope of cardboard.

“What’s that?”

“Thigh highs.”

“Get the fuck out of here!
I can’t wear those!
I’m not a hooker!”

“God, Care!
Relax.
No one will know you’re wearing them, unless, of course, you want them to know.”
She pulled them out of the package and handed one to me.
“Pull them halfway up then I’ll help you shift the dress and the slimmer so we can pull them up the rest of the way.”

Between the two of us, it took only another twenty minutes to fit the black thigh high stockings under the dress and slimmer.

“That was fun.”
No it wasn’t.

“If your friends don’t help you put on your pantyhose, you don’t need them in your life, right?”

“Ha!
I guess.
Thank you.”
I riffled through my closet looking for the box my shoes came in before remembering they were under my bed.
“What time is it?”

“Five till six.”

“Can you get the red clutch from the top shelf for me and fill it with my stuff?”

I shoved on my shoes, which lifted me a good four inches higher than normal, and walked to the hall closet to retrieve my red coat, black leather gloves, and black-and-white-checked scarf.

“How do I look?”

“Perfect.
Here, put on some lipstick.”

I swept the color on my lips before placing the tube in the clutch Sarah handed me.
I had just finished blotting when the doorbell rang.

Sarah buzzed Brian up and I took one last look in the mirror.

She opened the door and, I swear, time stood still.
Brian was dressed in a black suit, gray shirt, and red tie.
His wavy hair was slicked back but still looked as though I could run my fingers through it.
The stubble on his face was trimmed but not gone.
His eyes were hidden by aviator shades.