Chapter 12 The Becoming #3
Damon cleared his throat softly. “If it helps, I’ve been through this myself. Multiple times. I can give you tips for making it easier.”
Daisy stared at him. “Were you a tribute?”
“Three years ago.” He smiled. “Now, I volunteer because I want to help others.”
“And this is what you chose?”
He smiled. “It’s a very vulnerable moment. The key is to relax your breathing. Slow and deep. Focus on a memory or a song. It’s over in no time.”
Daisy looked between them. Was she being ridiculous? A few minutes of discomfort or turn away a million pounds? When she looked at that, she knew she was going to go through with it. Resigned, she let out a sigh. “Fine.”
“Trust me, you’ll be fine,” Damon said.
Trust no one.
Aunt V moved to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
In the end, Damon was right. It was over quickly. Mortifying, yes. Dehumanizing in ways she hadn’t imagined, absolutely. But his breathing tips helped so much that she thanked him when it was over.
“You did beautifully,” he said, tidying the area for the next tribute. “The hardest part is over. Everything from here is just pampering.”
“Thank God.”
Lunch arrived between treatments, lighter fare served on delicate china in a room where the other tributes gathered in various stages of transformation.
The women who’d arrived looking weathered and worn now resembled plucked chickens, all raw skin and exposed vulnerability, their hair wrapped in foils or twisted in curlers, their faces scrubbed clean.
“Attention, my little does.” Aunt V’s voice cut through the quiet murmur. “A reminder, as we continue, the safe word is Timber. If at any point tonight you feel unsafe, say that word, and everything will stop. What is the safe word?”
“Timber,” the room chorused.
“Excellent. After lunch, we’re going to practice posture. Eat up. We want you nice and strong for this evening.”
The afternoon blurred into a montage of sensation. The massage was her favorite. No one had ever touched her in such a way, so steadily devoted to her comfort. She was so relaxed when it was over that she fell asleep in the middle of her facial.
After the spa, she was delivered back to the salon where they transformed Daisy’s hair with scissors and color and heat, a full metamorphosis that turned her dull, limp strands into sleek, glossy waves.
Her body felt foreign, smooth and soft in ways it had never been.
They shaped and painted her nails in a delicate shell pink adorned with little crystals in the corner.
Once the polish dried, they massaged her hands and feet.
The decadence overwhelmed her, putting her into a trance that made the world fuzzy and soft, as if she were moving through a cloud.
Is this what rich people feel like all the time?
“What’s the safe word?” Aunt V asked throughout the day.
“Timber!” the tributes responded automatically as one.
“Perfect. Remember, no matter what happens tonight, you’re in control.”
Finally, impossibly, it was time to dress.
The lingerie came first. Daisy stood in a private room as a valet helped her into garments unlike anything she’d ever worn.
A bra of delicate dove-grey lace with tiny pearls contoured her curves.
An intricate garter belt fit her narrow waist, the silk tapes clipping elegantly to the lace trim of sheer, icy thigh highs that covered her skin like a soft mist. Rather than panties, she wore vintage silk tap pants with slits on the sides and soft satin ribbons tied at the hip.
Daisy’s lips parted in awe at her reflection. It was the most feminine she’d ever looked. “I don’t believe it.”
The valet smiled, her hands still adjusting straps and bows. “The color suits you perfectly.”
“I don’t even recognize myself.”
“Wait until you see it with your hair and makeup.”
She couldn’t imagine anything prettier than the reflection staring back at her. But the stylists shortly proved her wrong.
The stylist parted her hair to the side, sweeping back the front in a way that looked sleek and polished, but not tight.
He gathered her hair to one side, sculpting sections into wide twists that rested on her nape, and slightly off center, behind her ear.
It was romantic and refined, reminding her of vintage models from the early twentieth century.
Her makeup somehow illuminated her features without looking heavy or overdone. Soft, shimmering pearls and delicate champagne. Her lips wore the palest shade of pink beneath a touch of gloss, appearing almost nude.
“Wow,” she said, wondering if she’d ever be able to recreate such perfection.
When they walked her back to the dressing room, women were emerging like princesses, so transformed it was almost impossible to identify them as the tributes at breakfast that morning.
Daisy stepped onto a pedestal, surrounded by mirrors. Shoes, perfectly sized to her feet, replaced the slippers she’d been wearing all day.
“High heels for…”
The valet looked up at her with a smile. “No one said you had to keep them on.”
“Do you keep yours?”
The valet cocked her head and frowned. “I wasn’t a tribute.”
“Oh. I just assumed…”
“It’s okay.” Her smile turned thoughtful. “Maybe one day I’ll be so lucky.”
The music faded away as her words echoed in the dark recesses of her mind. Lucky? Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. By morning, her life would be forever changed. What an incredible privilege to be selected for such an opportunity.
“Oh, no.” The valet handed her a tissue. “Your makeup.”
“Sorry.” Daisy gently dabbed her eyes. “I just got so overwhelmed.” She swallowed down the sudden surge of emotion. “It just hit me, like a wave of…”
“Gratitude?”
She nodded tightly and dabbed her eyes again. “Did I mess it up?”
“Not at all. You’re perfect.” She retrieved a long gown from the wall. The silk fabric shimmered like mist, a cross between silver and champagne, depending on the light. “Arms up.”
Silk descended in soft ripples, draping seamlessly over her curves, defying gravity. The front plunged impossibly low, exposing her navel in a swoop of layers and fine-strung pearls.
“Turn,” the valet said, and Daisy obeyed.
The mirror reflected a beautiful stranger, with flawless skin and glossy hair. Her eyes no longer looked tired, but they were still her mother’s.
“My robe.”
“Hmm?”
“Where’s my robe?”
“You won’t need that—”
“No, there’s…something in the pocket.”
The valet frowned and drifted behind a curtained door, returning a moment later with the robe embroidered 1922. She handed it to Daisy.
Panic spiked inside her when she fished in her pocket and found it empty. She reached into the other pocket and sighed with relief when her fingers tangled with the thin chain.
The valet stared into her palm and looked back at the curtain. “You’re not supposed to—”
Daisy’s hand closed around the locket in an unbreakable fist. “I can’t leave it.”
“It’s gold. Your dress is silver. The designers have very specific rules.”
Daisy looked into the valet’s eyes, lips flattening in a firm line as she silently pleaded. Finally, she said, “Please. Help me hide it.”
She gaped at such a request. “Where? The dress shows everything.”
“My hair?”
She took the robe, clearly flustered by the request, and walked it back to the hamper. A moment later, she adjusted the curtain. “You have to promise not to tell anyone I helped you,” she whispered.
“I swear.”
With a sigh, she reached into a hatbox and removed a small jewelry box. Inside, tucked in soft satin, sat a white feathered barrette with crystal tassels and pearls sewn into the cluster of plumes.
“I shouldn’t be doing this.” She stepped up on the pedestal. “Let me see the necklace.”
Daisy hesitated, and the valet scoffed, taking it from her.
Her brow knit as she focused on not destroying her hair, somehow managing to use one of the hidden pins to hide the locket inside a curl. “There.” She clipped the barrette on top, hiding it from view.
“Is it secure?”
“For now. But I can’t make any promises. If you want to ensure its safety, you should have given it to the steward for safekeeping. They have safes for valuables.”
But her locket wasn’t valuable. It was priceless. “Thank you.”
She returned to the box and withdrew another smaller box from inside. “Your earrings.” She carefully adorned the clips, and Daisy immediately registered the unnatural weight.
Diamonds cascaded like chandeliers from her earlobes, catching the light as they glittered. Daisy stood perfectly still, afraid to move and accidentally knock the precise perfection out of place.
“You’ll adjust. Everyone does.”
A soft knock sounded as Aunt V entered through the curtain, and for a moment, her professional composure cracked.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Look at you. Well…” She clasped her hands together and smiled, obviously pleased with Daisy’s transformation.
“I guess the stylist was already here to put the final touches on your hair. I’ll make a note. ”
The valet shot Daisy a quick look, but said nothing.
“Just one last finishing touch.” Aunt V reached into the satin hat box and removed a lace confection, delicate with thin ribbons, filigree, and pearls. “Your mask.” She stepped closer, revealing the lace details. “Allow me.”
She circled Daisy slowly, adjusting a strand of hair here, smoothing the fabric there. Her eyes shone with something that looked dangerously like pride.
Aunt V fitted the lace to her face with gentle hands, adjusting the eye holes so Daisy could see comfortably and tying the ribbons at the back of her head. Daisy’s heart raced as she adjusted the ties, her fingers close to where the locket hid.
“There.” She stepped back and grinned. “Shall we join the others?”
When Daisy emerged from the dressing rooms, the windows had darkened with the sky. Her breathing became unsteady. It was finally happening.