Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
APRIL
“You know those makeover scenes in the movies where the main character walks into a store and two minutes later she walks out with all her shopping bags?”
“Yeah?” Rebel calls.
I shove the dressing room curtain aside. The hooks make a tsk sound as it travels the length of the metal rails. “Why is my makeover scene taking seven days?”
“Because this is real life, not a montage, silly. Now spin.” Rebel sticks up two fingers and makes a ‘twirl’ gesture.
I do a three-sixty. “Have I mentioned how much I hate shopping?”
“That you have.” Rebel shakes her head at my outfit and her glossy blonde hair ripples with the movement. She shoos me away.
“I asked you for a dress. A single dress. I feel like I’ve tried hundreds of dresses since then. One of them must be acceptable enough.” I stomp back into the dressing room.
“Stop whining!” May yells at me, capping her bottle of water. She turns sideways in the couch and lets her legs dangle over the edge. “How does Rebel put up with you?”
I push my head out of the dressing room curtains to give my sister the stinkiest of stink eyes.
She sticks her tongue out at me.
Rebel waves me back into the dressing room. “Try on the red one!”
“The sparkly red one with the low cut? No thanks!”
“It’s not a low cut. It has a perfectly respectable V-neck and yes, you will wear it because your date is tomorrow and we have literally run out of time.”
“None of this would be necessary if you’d just lent me a dress,” I grumble, slithering out of the short white dress with the poofy skirt and capped shoulders.
“April, I’m several inches taller than you and we have two different body types. You wouldn’t fit in my clothes.”
“Are you calling me fat?”
“No, I said we have two different body types.” Rebel’s voice rings with exasperation. Even though I can’t see her, I can imagine her pouting her lips and rolling her eyes. “You need to find a silhouette that’s flattering for you .”
“At the very least we should have gone to a thrift store. I don’t have money for this,” I grumble.
May pipes up. “Ah-ah, as the head of marketing, we’re using everything in our budget on this dress. I just know we’re going to make it all back within a week.”
I purse my lips because none of us know that. I had one crazy idea in the heat of the moment and now, instead of snuggling in bed watching car repair videos and reading car manuals, I’m stuck visiting every dress shop in the county.
I’m starting to regret letting May and Rebel in on my plan to get more customers. If I’d just kept my thoughts to myself then, when I inevitably stopped being angry about the comments I overheard, this particular idea would have died a quiet and natural death.
Unfortunately, my sister and best friend are here to keep the vision alive.
I frown as I shimmy the red dress up my hips. It’s a little snug, so I grip both ends and give it a tug like I’m wrenching off a stubborn bolt on the engine.
“Why are you grunting?” Rebel asks. “Is it too tight?”
“Yeah!”
“Stop tugging!” she yells.
I stop immediately.
“Why did you yell?” May complains.
“Your sister can twist the lug nut off a tire with her bare hands. Imagine what she’ll do to fabric if she gives it her full strength.” Rebel’s heels click-clack outside and then I see an arm stick over the top of the stall. Her bracelets dangle to her wrist as she wiggles her fingers. “Give me the dress. I’ll ask if they have a size up.”
I shove the shimmery fabric into her hands. “Maybe look for some other alternatives while you’re out there. That red is too much.”
“I know it’s a lot for you since you prefer dark colors…”
“Dark colors don’t get dirty,” I remind her.
“… but there’s something about this dress, your skin tone and your new highlights that I think will really work together.”
As her heels click away, I swivel and face the mirror in all my half-clad glory. I’m wearing a bra, like an actual one and not the sporty variety that I prefer and my hair is now a gorgeous chocolate brown with highlights.
One of the first places Rebel dragged me to was the hair salon—thankfully, not the one in town where Evan did most of his cheating. The hairdresser originally only wanted highlights done to my curls, but I was so emotional that I proudly told him to do whatever he thought would be the most dramatic change.
I sat in the chair as the flat iron sizzled like bacon and my curls disappeared before my eyes. Now, I have straight, silky hair that’s so slinky, it slips out of every ponytail clip I own.
Twisting back and forth, I marvel as the bronzy highlights play peek-a-boo with the light. The new color weaves in and out of my dark hair like the sun kissed the top of my head and promised I’d live in an everlasting summer.
It’s nice.
I do miss my curls but… I don’t hate it.
“Here you go!” Rebel shoves the replaced dress over the top of the booth. “You got it?”
“Yeah!”
I shimmy into the red dress and breathe out in relief when it eases over my hips with no resistance. The zipper moves smoothly and I fly out of the dressing room without even looking at myself.
Rebel rises slowly.
May dribbles water down the corner of her lips.
“Are you okay?” I ask my drooling sister.
Eyes locked on me, Rebel trots closer.
“What?” I run a hand down the dress. “Is it that bad?”
“Shut up and turn around.” Rebel grips me by the shoulders and forcibly turns me to the mirror.
I stare at the woman in red and my jaw nearly disconnects from my body.
Whoa.
Rebel holds the front door of the store open for me as I walk out with two shopping bags—one holding the dress and the other bearing the shoes, earrings, and bracelets that May insisted was ‘in the marketing budget’.
I have a feeling my sister is putting her own personal funds into this. Since I’m the one who gave her the marketing budget, I know exactly what we have available.
And this is way over that price.
“I can’t wait until Chance sees you,” Rebel says, strutting down the sidewalk like it’s her own personal runway.
May laughs gleefully. “He’s going to die, come back to life and then die again.”
“I’m not doing this for Chance,” I point out.
“I know. He’s just collateral damage.” May winks.
They burst out laughing uproariously. I chuckle on a less shoulder-shaking and knee-slapping scale.
Despite being one hundred percent invested in this makeover for the sake of my business, I feel a tinge of excitement at the thought of Chance seeing me all dolled up. I may not be a socialite, an heiress or a supermodel, but I do clean up nicely.
I’m smiling to myself, when a shadow falls on my path. I look up to witness the automotive kingpin of our small town glowering down at me.
Stewart Kinsey is a bear of a man in his early fifties. But don’t be fooled by his thick limbs and giant hands. He’s limber enough to squeeze his beer belly underneath a car and change the oxygen sensor in a jiffy.
Stewart’s cold eyes trail the shopping bags and then move to my straight hair and the cherry gloss Rebel foisted on me because ‘cracked lips aren’t cute’.
“Brooks! Fancy seeing you here.”
“Mr. Kinsey.” I nod stiffly.
His eyes jump to Rebel who scowls in response. “How’ve you been, pretty lady?”
Rebel’s stare is so frosty it feels like a sudden winter blizzard has descended. “Mr. Kinsey.”
“Call me ‘uncle’, darling.” He sidles toward her. “Why, I remember when you were knee high.” Kinsey grins like a shark. “And your mama brought you with her while she was cleaning the garage. Every year, you look more and more like her.”
Rebel jerks forward.
I step in front of her before she can lunge “It looks like you were on your way to something, Mr. Kinsey. We won’t keep you.”
May and I grip one of Rebel’s arms and steer her away from Kinsey.
“Oh, Brooks!” Kinsey calls.
I stop, but I don’t turn around.
“I think you’re doing a good thing, changing your hair and dressing up for that hockey player. Doing your best to be a rich man’s wife is a much easier job than being a mechanic. That’s for sure.” He chuckles like he’s dispensing the wisest advice. “Well, it’s not like your garage was doing that well anyway. Let me know when you start selling your machinery. No need to make a big fuss. I’ll take all those diagnostic tools off your hands.”
Rebel whips around, her eyes ablaze.
“Come on.” I tug on her hand.
“Are you just gonna let him talk to you like that?” Rebel hisses as we drag her around the bend.
“Arguing won’t change a Kinsey’s mind,” I remind her, my gut churning. “Only beating them fair and square.”
“We have to make the garage a success,” Rebel says, her eyes brimming with angry tears.
“We will,” I promise her, my hands shaking slightly. “We will.”