Chapter Twenty-Three
Amber
“Amber, where the hell are you?” Pippa shouts from around the building.
Reluctantly, I emerge from my hiding spot, ready to call this whole night off.
“There you are,” she says in relief. “Where the hell did you go?”
Shrugging, I reply, “I needed some air.”
Pippa shakes her head. “Well, your makeover starts in a few minutes. They’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m not sure if I’m up for this anymore, Pippa. I know you paid for all of it, but my heart just isn’t in it after my mother left the way she did.”
Pippa moves closer and places a hand on my shoulder.
“I know you’re going through a lot right now, Amber.
Maybe you are even getting cold feet a little.
That’s normal when you’re about to get married, but I know you need this.
You need to relax and let go for one night.
You’re so pent-up. There’s so much going on that I know it feels overwhelming—”
Pushing her away, I glare at her. “The only thing overwhelming right now is you. I can’t believe you invited her, not to mention those two bitches you call friends. Why would you do that, Pippa? You know they fucking hate me.”
She rolls her eyes. “God, Amber, I thought you’d want your mom here. And as for Katie Lyn and Devony, they were already coming to the spa, so I just invited them along. It was your bad attitude that scared them away.”
“My bad attitude? Seriously, Pippa, you’ve had a fucking bad attitude for the last month or so.”
Pippa shakes her head. “God, you can be so ungrateful sometimes, Amber. Anyways, Raul is waiting for you. How about we don’t lose out on the money I dropped on this, and you at least pretend to be enjoying yourself?”
Mallory comes up beside me and squeezes my hand. “Just try, Amber. We’re here for you, okay?”
Reluctantly, I nod, following the three girls into the salon.
A handsome Spanish man is standing behind a salon chair.
He’s dressed in a nice pressed shirt and has on black slacks that fit him perfectly.
He’s got to be in his late fifties with ebony black hair, a thick mustache under his nose, and olive skin that a tanning woman would die for.
His smile brightens the whole room when he looks me up and down.
“You must be the bride!” he says with an accent so thick, I feel like I’m in Cabo.
“Yeah, my name’s Amber,” I meekly reply, my emotions still on high alert. “Is it that obvious?”
He shrugs. “Pippa paid for the whole package. And you, my dear, need the whole package.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should be insulted or not. I know I left the house in my worst outfit, looking like I just rolled out of bed twice, but that still doesn’t make me feel like he’s silently judging me.
He notices my hesitancy and smirks. “Don’t worry, beautiful. Even in that frumpy getup, you still shine above everyone else. I’m just here to take you from the moon to the sun, so the universe revolves around you.”
Guiding me to the chair, Raul places a cape around my shoulders and then starts tugging at my blonde strands. “Oof, these ends are split like pieces of wood. When was the last time you had a cut or trim?”
“Over a year ago.”
“You definitely needed me, beautiful bride.” He shoots a look towards Pippa. “Extensions?”
“Definitely extensions,” she agrees.
My three besties are in their own chairs, sitting with various hair stylists from all walks of life. Before I know what’s happening, we’re all taken to the shampoo bowls, our hair thoroughly washed before the cutting begins.
Raul stands behind me, smiling widely as I stare at my reflection. I look even more like a drowned rat.
“I’m a master at this, don’t you worry,” he says with a wink, combing through the wet tangles at the crown of my head. “By the time we’re done, your soon-to-be husband won’t be able to pick his jaw up off the floor.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll see.”
He raises an eyebrow in the mirror. “Uh-oh. That didn’t sound very bridal. Trouble in paradise?”
“It’s complicated,” I mutter.
Raul stops brushing for a moment. “Relationships always are.” He resumes gently working through my hair. “So, tell Raul. How long have you and this lucky man been together?”
“If you don’t count the numerous times we’ve broken up over the years, around five years. He’s my high school sweetheart.”
His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “And despite all the breakups, you’re still working at it.”
“Yeah.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “This time’s different though. He proposed… with my mom’s ring.”
Raul freezes mid comb, his expression softening. “That’s meaningful. Family pieces carry weight, carino. That ring holds stories within it.”
I nod slowly. “It does. My mom and I don’t have the best relationship, and she never gave any indication that she’d ever let it go.
For him to go out of his way to ask for it, and for her to give it without hesitation, means a lot.
” My voice wavers slightly. “Especially since my dad died a few years back. I have very few things of his, mostly memories. So, I guess the ring feels like a piece of something I’ve lost. Promises of a forever that only ends with death. ”
Raul places a hand on my shoulder, his touch more comforting than it should be.
“That’s beautiful, mi amor. I can see it in your eyes; you’re not just a bride playing dress-up; you’re carrying multiple hearts with you.
Your dad may be gone, but don’t be surprised if he’s walking down that aisle with you, whether you see it or not. ”
I swallow hard, blinking past the tears that are already starting to form. “Yeah.”
With a soft hum, Raul turns serious again.
“Then we honor that. We don’t just throw some curls in your hair and paint on a smile.
We give you the kind of look that says I’ve been through hell and came out shining.
” He pauses. “Long extensions. I’m thinking beautiful waves, like a goddess rising from the sea. You okay with that?”
I smile genuinely for the first time all morning. “Yeah, that actually sounds kind of perfect.”
He claps once, gleefully. “Perfect! Now sit back and relax. You’re about to be reborn.”
As Raul begins expertly clipping in the long, caramel-blonde extensions, a makeup artist named Jasmine appears with a rolling cart full of brushes and palettes. Her vibe is cool and confident, with a sharp dark brown bob that curves forward and frames her face, and piercings lining both ears.
“I’m thinking drama,” Jasmine says, inspecting my face. “Dark liner, smoky lids, a bit of shimmer to make your eyes pop, and lastly a very vampy lip. The kind that seduces men from across the room. Do you trust me?”
I nod. “Go for it.”
“Good,” she replies, already smoothing primer over my cheeks. “Because you’ve got cheekbones that deserve to be carved into marble.”
I let out a small laugh, eyes flicking over to Raul, who gives me a wink in the mirror.
As Jasmine works her magic, and Raul weaves waves into my new hair, I start to feel like something's shifting. Maybe I can survive the chaos of the wedding even though my mother won’t be there.
Raul leans in again, lowering his voice. “You ready to make some jaws drop, Amber?”
I meet his eyes in the mirror and nod. “Let’s do it.”
After I’m fully glammed up, I meet up with Pippa, Poppy, and Mallory, my jaw hitting the floor at their makeovers.
Mallory went for a shorter cut, one that really makes her red hair look vibrant in the overhead light.
Her lips are ruby red, and perfectly match the cute little sundress she’s wearing with big red flowers on it.
Pippa, of course, looks like she just walked off the runway.
She didn’t get much done, mostly because she doesn’t need it.
Her makeup is bold and really brings out the blue in her eyes with the way it’s perfectly shaded with a dark allure.
The dress she’s wearing is skin tight and black as night with her cleavage on full alert, boobs barely hidden behind the expensive fabric.
It's Poppy, though, that takes my breath away. Her usual quiet librarian look has been wiped clean, replaced with a vixen of the night. Knee-high boots cover her gorgeous calves and leave a good portion of skin showing beneath the cute little mini dress that’s a beautiful blue satin with a tiny black bow around the waistline.
Her eyes, that familiar Kiplinger blue, are heavily lashed and accentuated with eyeshadow that perfectly matches the hue of her dress.
Her lips are shimmering with a shiny gloss that glints off the light, but it’s her hair that’s full of whimsy.
Curling down her back in perfect waves, her long ebony locks playfully cover her pop of cleavage, giving her that sexy single girl look that guys go gaga for.
“Fuck, Poppy, you’re so hot, I’d date you,” I exclaim, grabbing her wrists to admire her dress.
She blushes before handing me my hot red empire-waist cocktail dress. “Go put this on; we have places to go and people to see.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re on our way to one of the many casinos in town, ready to party up one of my last weeks being an unmarried woman.
Pippa takes us to one of the bars, and buys the first shots, making sure I down my first. “Here’s to our baby girl leashing it up! May the odds be ever in your favor! Better you than me!”
“Here. Here,” Poppy and Mallory chant, all of us gulping down the bitter tequila until it bites at the back of my throat.
I slam the empty shot glass on the bar and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “That was disgusting,” I croak out, tongue covered with a nasty film, the bitter brew biting and clawing its way down my throat like a vicious beast looking for its next meal.
“And yet,” Mallory smirks, flagging down the bartender for another round, “you’ll be begging for another in ten minutes.”
Poppy loops her arm through mine and gives me a quick squeeze. “It’s your bachelorette week. You get to be as drunk and messy as you want. No regrets, no rules.”