Chapter 11
Eleven
ISABEL
Even before the party starts, the girls are already celebrating.
After a quick shower, I’m ushered into Natalia’s room with the others.
Pop music blares through the speakers. The girls head straight for her walk-in closet, but I stand rooted in my place, taking it all in.
I’ve never been in a bedroom so large; what could she possibly need all this space for?
A king-sized bed sits in the center of the room, pillows fluffed, its thick duvet folded at the top. The sight of it would make any hotelier swoon.
French doors lead out onto a balcony. I step toward it; the view opens up to the backyard and the pool. To my left is the pool house, and underneath me, the lanai.
A hand grabs my wrist. Chiara. “Come on. We’re picking accessories.”
The walk-in closet is bigger than my bedroom at home.
Open closets built into the walls boast of colorful clothes.
An island sits in the center of the room with a glass counter so we can peer in and see Natalia’s collection of jewelry.
Cartier bracelets, Tiffany necklaces, she has it all. Often in gold and silver.
Erin stacks silver bangles on her wrist. Ravina tries on a gold choker with diamonds and coos at her reflection. Natalia nods her approval.
“Are these new?” Luz asks, pointing at a pair of earrings.
“Mhm. Want it?”
Luz looks at me. “This will look good with your dress.” She slides the top drawer and picks up the dainty silver earrings with diamonds dangling from them like tears.
I open my mouth to protest—they’re new, which means I’d be breaking them in, but isn’t sharing earrings unhygienic? Natalia fixes me with a glare as if to shut me up before I even start.
“Okay,” I say, holding my hand out for the earrings.
If nothing else, I would at least have firsthand experience on the movie makeover montage experience.
(Fascinating how, at every possible turn, there is an urge to orchestrate one movie scene after another, to live in a film of one’s own life, the social media age equivalent of life imitating art, even within myself.) There’s a knock on the door.
A maid pokes her head in and tells us the dresses have been properly cleaned and ironed out.
My eyes bug out. When Natalia gave the orders to Shirley upon our arrival, I thought for sure there was no way they’d finish in time.
They must have a battalion of maids working round the clock; it explains why I’ve never seen the same one twice.
The girls surge out of the closet as two maids wheel in a rack of our dresses. When the bedroom door clicks shut, everyone starts undressing. I clamp a hand over my eyes. Natalia laughs.
“Don’t be a prude,” she says. Someone pulls my hand down.
It’s always a shock to see how someone can manage to be so pretty and make it look effortless; it’s like Natalia’s subscribed to Girl Premium, and the rest of us plebs have to work with the free trial.
“It’s nothing you don’t see every day. Zip me up. ”
There’s something about the way she speaks—commanding, sure—that has me obliging. I slide the zipper up. Her shoulder blades are razor sharp. I expect her to march away from me, toward her full-length mirror. Instead, she turns to face me. “How do I look?”
Beauty-queen beautiful, as if she wears an Instagram filter in real life. It’s not even fair. How can someone so cruel be so pretty?
I muster a smile. “Like the dress was made for you.”
“Aw, Sugar.” She pats my cheek.
“Isabel, let me zip you up,” Chiara offers. I excuse myself to the bathroom where I get changed and step out pinning my top to my chest. Luz and Natalia snicker at me. Whatever fondness I felt for them dissipates.
Chiara, already in her dress and heels, rushes toward me. As she zips me up, Erin scoops my hair and holds it up. Ravina peers over her shoulder, squinting at me. All the hands and eyes on my body are dizzying.
“What’re we thinking?” Erin asks. “You have so much hair. I’m thinking we slick back the top, then do a braided chignon?”
“No, no, we should style it in loose waves,” Ravina counters.
“But her hair is always down. The dress is so sweet, we should amp up the sex by baring her shoulders. Up the sultriness, you know?”
Ravina hums her agreement. “Then an understated makeup look. Her lips are already the perfect color, so we should use something close. Some blush here”—she grazes my cheek—“then a subtle winged eyeliner, and wispy lashes.”
“Perfect,” Erin says. She marches me to the bathroom, where they’ve set up cushioned seats in front of the mirror.
Nobody asks me whether I agree with their opinions.
Erin starts on my hair, and Ravina carries in a big black kit full of makeup.
I surrender to my fate. Maybe I could learn a thing or two.
Better blush application, a cat-eye technique.
They work surprisingly fast. They spin me away from the mirror so I don’t see anything until they’re done.
Natalia observes halfway through and nods her approval.
When Erin finishes my hair, she helps me put on the earrings.
Then she braces her hands on my shoulders from behind and leans in to whisper in my ear.
“Jaime is going to love you in this,” she says. She smirks at me, winks, and leaves to get ready.
My heart thumps. Who said anything about me and Jaime? Did he say something about me?
Ravina swipes gloss on my lips. “Aaand done.” She flicks her fingers at me.
I swivel toward the mirror. My jaw drops.
The earrings catch light and sparkle. The dress hugs my figure, my bare shoulders really making me look sultrier than I expected.
And the makeup. Ravina worked her magic on me.
I didn’t know I could look like this. I look beautiful. I look…like one of them.
Chiara whistles when I step out of the bathroom to slip on my heels. I can’t help but laugh.
Luz, already ready, takes a hit from her vape on Natalia’s bed. The air smells like cotton candy.
“The boys are already downstairs,” she says to no one in particular. “Bo’s asking if we’re taking the pills before or after dinner.”
“Right before,” Natalia answers. “Come up takes an hour, right? We should be rolling by then.”
I glance nervously at Chiara. She smiles reassuringly at me. “Molly,” she says. “It’s safe, don’t worry. Bo’s stuff is clean, always.”
Safe? I’ve avoided drugs my whole life with the knowledge that they were far from safe. I had—and still have—no interest in them.
Natalia must sense my discomfort, because she says, “Scared, Sugar?”
“I don’t do drugs,” I answer.
Luz laughs. “Not even weed?”
I shake my head.
She and Natalia exchange glances.
“Tell the boys there’s been a change of plans,” Natalia says. “Have Bo roll us a joint.” She turns to me. “You’re gonna love it, Shug. Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”
“Stop thinking about my ass,” I snap.
Natalia cackles. “Sassy.”
“Sassy Sugar,” Luz chimes in.
I roll my eyes. I can’t wait for this night to be over.