Chapter Nine. Mackenzie #3
When I slip back to change into my next outfit, Serena’s in the middle of changing into a lilac robe, her back pointedly turned to me.
That doesn’t stop me from seeing her reflection in the mirror—how tired her face is when it’s in neutral.
How it doesn’t age her, but makes her look younger than she has in years.
How her chest is covered in stress hives.
“Oh, shit,” I blurt.
Serena’s eyes snap to meet mine in the mirror, then follow my gaze down to her chest. “Great,” she mutters dully.
I cross the room to examine her, yanking the robe open before she can pull it away from me. She’s covered in red splotches from her collarbone down into the camisole she’s wearing. “Has it ever been this bad?” I ask worriedly.
Serena is unfazed, already in damage-control mode. “I’ll tighten the robe. Do you have concealer?”
I shake my head. We both know it won’t be enough. “Just switch with me,” I say, handing her the hanger with my hoodie and leggings.
She hesitates, but only for a beat. “Fine.”
“Does this happen a lot?” I ask as she wriggles into the leggings. She used to get hives on the road before, but I can’t remember a time it was this extreme.
Serena doesn’t answer, looking over the call sheet for our cues. “Should I go out first anyway?” she asks.
I nod. Hannah will be surprised by the outfit switch for a fraction of a second before rolling with it. Serena finishes yanking on the hoodie and heads back into the hall so fast that I just barely manage to kick off my sweatpants and secure the robe as I follow her.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Did you put anything weird in the pockets on this one?” she asks back.
I grab her by the wrist. “Seriously, Serena. Can we just—talk after this?”
She grits her teeth, then sags a bit. “I really do have to record in the morning.”
I let her go. “Right,” I say, my throat tight.
She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something else, but the song is coming to an end. Serena lines herself up at the edge of the door to walk on and I duck behind her, fiddling with the robe to get the straps tied on right.
We both freeze when we hear it. The opening chords to “Play You by Heart.”
“You’re up,” says the last model to Serena.
But Serena shakes her head, her jaw tight. “You go,” she says without looking at me.
I’m still fiddling with the robe straps. “What? We said same order.”
Serena pushes me forward. “Go . Your little boyfriend will eat it up.”
My cheeks burn. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I protest. “We’re just working together; we’re not—”
I don’t know what terrible thing I did in a past life, but it must have followed me through the time, space, adorable loungewear continuum.
What happens after Serena nudges me onto the runway can only be the universe coming back to collect: I am standing in a massive spotlight in nothing but a white tank top and none other than my drooping Christmas underwear.
Not only that, but I appear to have tripped on the power cord to the speaker. The place is dead silent, save for Serena’s quiet, “ Shit. ”
I look down just to confirm my situation, and yes. A bedazzled Rudolph is still perched over my nether regions on full display. I close my eyes. Maybe it’s a dream. A holly jolly nightmare.
One that can only get worse, because a quick glance back at Serena tells me that she has the tie to the robe in her hands, but the wind machine has fluttered the robe away.
I’m frozen until I hear it. The noise is faint, but it’s undeniably the opening to “Jingle Bell Rock.” When I look up, Sam is grinning wickedly, his phone held up in his hand.
Damn it. How many damn times is this man going to rescue me this week? It’s like the universe heard my resolution not to fall for him and is testing me with everything it’s got.
But when I meet his eye, there’s that same quick, conspiratorial beat we’d have onstage just before we did something wild.
This isn’t just a rescue. It’s an inside joke that we haven’t gotten to tell in a long, long time.
So I roll with it, doing an exaggerated shimmy before launching into an approximation of the dance from Mean Girls .
Hannah doesn’t miss a beat before joining in, much to the very loud delight of our audience.
“Ah, yes,” Hannah says into her mic, half wheezing with laughter. “Our unsubtle but effective reminder that everything in this collection will be available in time for this holiday season.”
Someone tosses the robe up to us then, and I catch it and spin it around our heads for a bit more of the song before Hannah offers a hand to help slide my arms into it.
At some point someone hops up and fixes the speaker, transitioning back into “Play You by Heart,” and the rest of the demonstration goes on without a hitch.
“A round of applause for Mackenzie and her robe, which I think we all can agree are ‘so fetch’!” Hannah calls out as Serena and I swap places on the runway, Serena steadfastly avoiding my eye.
I take a deep breath. I know Serena. She is a master of self-control. If she’s acting this impulsively, then Hannah and I were right to think something is up.
“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice light. “I think I’m owed some Serena time after that debacle.”
Serena’s cheeks are flushed, but she doesn’t apologize. “Oh, come on. They loved it, same as they always do. Another messy Mackenzie moment for the books.”
It cuts deeper than it should, but I’m exhausted. I know she needs us right now, but I’ve been trying. It was one thing when she was avoiding us, but another to get pushed away.
“Maybe you wouldn’t be so unhappy if you loosened up every now and then, too,” I say back.
“I am perfectly happy,” says Serena through her teeth. “I do everything I’m supposed to do. I never give anything less than my best. Why is everyone jumping down my throat over a damn tour delay?”
I reach for her hand. She lets me take it, too stunned to pull away. She wants me to be angry, I realize. She wants me to fight. She wants to goad me so she can justify walking away, and protect whatever it is she doesn’t want me to see.
We’ve pulled each other through so much worse than this. I can’t let her.
“I’m not worried about your career,” I say quietly. “I’m worried about you . This doesn’t look like happy to me.”
Serena yanks her hand out of mine. “Says someone making the dumbest move of their life.”
I ask it, then. The question that’s been on the tip of my tongue all night. The one that started to form long before it, back when Serena took one look at me and Hannah at the start of Thunder Hearts and decided she was the one calling the shots.
“Are you upset because it’s a dumb move, or because you’re not in charge of me anymore?”
Serena reels back. Turns out being someone’s best friend is a blessing and a curse—she knows where to cut me deep, and so do I.
Maybe I should apologize. But there’s some unsettled part of me that knows it won’t do any good. I’ve been apologizing and apologizing, and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere at all. Serena’s impenetrable now, her walls so thick that even I can’t see inside.
Her face hardens as she turns to leave, but not before I see the crack in it. She got what she wanted. Both of us still lose.