Chapter Thirty-One #2
“It matters for reasons,” Sol said. “So relax. Blaise is a genius. Now, I need to go over my talking points wi— What in the sad eighties thrift store is that?”
Sol’s stylist, Lando, had lifted my dress to inspect it. “It’s my outfit for tonight,” I said. “Michelle said I should wear something nice, and this is—”
“This is polyblend.” Lando dropped the dress as if it had burned him.
“Lucita, no no.” Sol wagged a finger. “You cannot walk the carpet with me in that.”
“But it’s nice!” I tried not to sound insulted. “Honestly, you’d think it was a Vivienne Westwood.” At least, that was what the girl working in the charity shop I’d found it in had assured me.
“I guarantee no one would think that,” Lando said.
“But the boning!” I yelped. “And the way the skirt—”
“The skirt makes me want to start a war,” Lando said. “I hate it. I want to track down whichever imbecile owns—” he squinted at the label “—Forum Fash and set them on fire.”
“So, just to be clear you’re kind of neutral on my dress?” I said.
Lando curled his lip. “Sol?”
I looked between Lando and Sol. What did they expect me to do, magically produce a dress that met their ridiculously stringent criteria? “Well, tough. I have nothing else.”
“Sol. Do something.” Lando pleaded, looking physically ill.
“Oh, this is all you, baby,” she said back to him. “We got time. Send Kylie to Bergdorf’s or something.” She turned to Blaise. “Can you work your magic?”
It sounded as if Sol was telling Lando to actually buy me a dress. “You don’t need to go anywhere,” I interjected as Blaise began circling me, his gaze intent upon my skin. “I have a dress right there.”
“Bergdorf’s?” Lando repeated, incredulously. “As if. Sol, we’re on Madison.”
“You’re right,” Sol breathed reverently. “Saab.”
“Saab?” I bleated, dodging Blaise’s fingers pinching my cheek. “What’s Saab?”
“You know what, I’ll go right now,” Lando said. “I have an idea.”
“Please, no ideas needed!” I yelled after him as he sprinted out. “Sol, I don’t do fancy dresses and all that. It’s not me!”
She giggled. “Now it is.”
Blaise grabbed my shoulders and all but threw me into the chair at the make-up station, turning on a ring light. “You don’t exfoliate,” he said.
“Actually, I use this stuff—”
“Ugh. Stuff.” Blaise whipped out ultra-slimy wet wipes and began swiping manically at my face. “I’ll do what I can, but don’t expect miracles.”
Less than an hour later, Lando was back, bearing an ivory garment bag emblazoned with the words Elie Saab.
I was still in the make-up chair, having just had individual false lashes painstakingly glued to the corner of my eyelids.
It felt like spiders were crawling above my eyes and I did not like it, but Blaise had threatened to stick my lips together with eyelash glue if I didn’t stop complaining so I’d let him get on with it.
Sol’s hairstylist had also attacked my hair with various heated instruments and what felt like an entire can of hairspray to tame my normally truculent waves into what they assured me was a red-carpet-ready style.
Sol jumped up at the sight of Lando and clapped her hands. “Show me, show me!”
“You’re all going to die,” Lando said. “I am literally murdering you with excellence.” He unzipped the bag.
His assistant, Kylie, jumped forward to help and soon they were holding up the most exquisite gown I had ever seen.
It was floor length, with long fitted sleeves and low back, covered in a geometric design of forest-green sequins that descended in a flared tulle skirt.
“That’s for me?” I was no expert on fashion; Bex had always been the stylish one of the two of us, whereas I had never comprehended the point of blowing silly money on clothing.
But in that moment, I understood why people spent a fortune on their wardrobes – this wasn’t clothing, this was art. “Will it even fit?”
“It won’t just fit, it’ll transform you,” Lando said. “Trust me, I know what I’m about and, girl, you were made to wear this.”
I reached for the dress hungrily. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“Put it on!” Sol urged.
“Okay, okay.” I felt like I was in a dream, better yet, a movie. How was this my life? I held the dress aloft, like it was baby Jesus made of glass, and headed towards one of the suite’s multiple bedrooms.
“Wait.” Lando handed over another bag, this one smaller.
“Jimmy Choo!” I felt my stomach drop. “No, I can’t.”
“Well, you can, and you will,” he said.
“Consider them a gift,” Sol said. “I’m a spokesmodel. I can’t move for Jimmy Choos.”
“Lando, you don’t know my size.” I lifted the shoebox out of the bag.
Lando’s eyes fluttered shut, impatiently. “Size 5, UK, on the narrow side?”
I gaped at his accuracy. “Are you an actual wizard?”
“I prefer the term visionary.” He grinned.
I peeked inside the box. Delicate strappy sandals covered in tiny green gems with a high thin heel, nestled among a bed of tissue paper. There were no words. I looked between Sol and Lando. “This is too much,” I said.
Sol folded her arms and raised her diminutive frame as tall as it would go. “Get dressed,” she said. “That’s an order.”
In the privacy of the bedroom, I shucked off my work clothes and slid into the Saab gown, followed by the heels.
The dress felt incredible. Nude silk gave the illusion of bare skin peeking out from behind clusters of sequins and the tulle skirt billowed gently as I moved.
It was possibly the most beautiful thing I’d ever had on my body, and I was desperate to see how it looked.
I glanced around the room. “There’s no mirror!
” Then I recalled the mirrors in the main room; Lando must have moved the one from in here.
Sol tapped at the door. “You ready?”
“Yep.” I made my way to the door, a tricky thing to do on thick carpet in such spindly heels. I opened the door to her.
“Oh my God.” Sol’s eyes widened. “You look phenomenal. Lando!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me along to where everyone else was waiting.
Lando preened in satisfaction as Sol dragged me to the mirror. “I am so good,” he muttered.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Who was this …
goddess staring back at me? The dress was a miracle, there was no doubt.
The delicate fabric skimmed my curves, nipping and flaring in all the right places, while the color made my muddy eyes pop.
Sol’s glam squad had transformed my unruly waves into retro pin-curls, one side pinned back with golden barrettes and … were those cheekbones?
“So?” Sol squealed. “What do you think?”
“I—” I struggled to find words. “I never thought I could look like this.”
“Like what?” Sol asked.
I licked my lips. “I look beautiful.”
“And that’s news only to you,” Sol said with a giggle.
“Nothing to do with my mastery then?” Blaise muttered from across the room.
“Apologies, my darling.” Sol giggled. “We merely enhanced what was already there. You can finally see what the rest of us do.”
I was touched. “Thank you. All of you. This is … well, I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”