22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
To Paige’s amusement, Andrea took her self-appointed position as Paige’s wingman rather seriously, establishing a somewhat odd, new work ritual. Several times a week, when they got together to discuss any new scheduling changes, it became Andrea’s habit to ‘request’ Paige’s phone (although sometimes it was more of a ‘grab’). After the first few times, the awkwardness wore off and Paige started handing it over without reservation, watching with amusement as Andrea speed-swiped with concentration for several minutes. When she was done, she’d hand the phone back and they’d go about the day’s business.
Andrea’s efforts resulted in Paige going on only a single date since her concussion—which didn’t work out, to Andrea’s supreme disappointment. She seemed to take it as an affront to her match-making skills and was in the middle of searching for the next ‘perfect guy’ when Paige’s phone pinged with an incoming text. Instead of handing the phone to Paige, Andrea opened the text and read it, then looked up in surprise.
“Today is your birthday?” she asked. “April 15th?”
“Yes.”
“Your birthday is … Tax Day.”
“I know.”
“That kind of sucks.”
“It does. Now, can I have my phone back?”
Andrea was still reading. “You’re thirty-five?”
“Hand it over,” Paige demanded.
A little reluctantly, Andrea gave Paige her phone back and then left her office. Once Paige was alone, she checked her texts, seeing she had two from Jules.
JULES: Happy 35th birthday !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JULES: There are 35 exclamation points, just for you.
Shaking her head, Paige texted back.
PAIGE: Stop with all the exclamation points, already. They’re really not necessary.
JULES: You ready for tonight?
Jules was responsible for Paige’s birthday becoming a bit of a production, mainly so that Paige’s first birthday without David wouldn’t be a total downer. That had paved the way for the next year (and the one after that) until it was pretty much a tradition. And, even though Paige had resisted at first, she’d grown to really appreciate it.
Until this year.
Turning thirty-five years old meant she was now dangerously close to being forty and while that wasn’t necessarily depressing, it was a little disappointing. The life that she had thought she’d be living was not the life she was living because she wasn’t married, nor did she have any children. And the possibility that she would ever be married again, or ever have children seemed to be drifting farther away from her, especially since the only actual date she’d been on had gone nowhere.
And to make matters worse, her biological clock was ticking like a motherfucker, which seemed to be directly related to finding out David had a child.
So, turning thirty-five was a bit of a shit sundae.
PAIGE: As ready as I’ll ever be.
JULES: I have a surprise for you, and you’re going to love it …
For a moment, Paige flinched at the mention of a ‘surprise’ and immediately thought of a few worst case scenarios. With Jules, a worst case scenario could be pretty bad. Not jail-time bad, but there had been a food poisoning incident, which had ruined Indian food forever.
PAIGE: It better not be a stripper. I won’t be down with that.
JULES: You’re showing your age. No one says ‘down with that’ anymore.
PAIGE: Not true. I say it all the time. That, and ‘talk to the hand’.
JULES: If it weren’t your special day, I’d tell you to eat a bag of dicks.
PAIGE: I wouldn’t even know what that means. And I don’t want to, so please, don’t feel like you need to explain it to me. Or send me a meme.
JULES: You mean a gif.
PAIGE: Whatever.
JULES: I should totally look for one. I bet they’re out there.
PAIGE: I’m sure they are. Don’t send me one.
PAIGE: So, tell me about my surprise.
JULES: It’s a surprise. You’ll find out tonight.
PAIGE: You haven’t forgotten I have a curfew, right?
This year, even though her birthday fell on a Friday, the fact that Paige had an afternoon wedding to work on Saturday meant she’d given Jules a cut-off time of midnight for the evening’s festivities.
JULES: No, I haven’t forgotten.
JULES: I’ll see you tonight at 5 p.m. We’re going to have so much fun!
PAIGE: I can’t wait!
When Jules arrived at Paige’s apartment promptly at 5 p.m., she brought an outfit for Paige to wear that night. It was one of several ‘rules’ that had been established by Jules, so Paige waited in the kitchen while everything was laid out on her bed, until it was time for the big reveal.
When Paige was finally allowed to enter the bedroom, Jules was rather excited, which made Paige a little wary, and that feeling was intensified when Jules squeezed Paige’s shoulders and issued a stern, “You know the rules,” before leaving Paige to get dressed.
She started with the lingerie. Usually, it was a matching bra and panty set, but this year the bra was noticeably absent, which made her frown for a moment. Telling herself, Don’t think, just get dressed, Paige picked up the black pair of Myla panties that were probably the most expensive thing on the bed and put them on. Next, was the black halter-style dress with half the back missing (which made the lack of a bra suddenly make sense) and after slipping it on, Paige noticed that if she moved just right, side-boob could come into play. There were thigh-high stockings in a mesh pattern that stopped a few inches below the dress’s hem and after pulling on her Louboutins that Jules had retrieved from her closet, Paige looked at herself in the mirror.
She knew from experience that the outfits chosen never provided any clues as to what was going to be on the evening’s agenda, so there was no point in even trying to guess. She’d worn a semi-formal dress to a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show one year, so Paige knew she could very well be playing putt-putt golf in this ensemble.
For a weird moment, she wished she’d been wearing this when she’d ran into David and Ashley. It obviously would’ve been a bit much for Bender’s, but it still would’ve been nice. Although, when she hit the floor, she’d likely have ended up flashing everyone, given the shortness of the skirt and the minimalism of the lace panties that covered five percent of her ass.
“You look fantastic,” Jules gushed when Paige joined her in the living room. “You’re not finished, though.”
“Yes, I am,” Paige said and held up the elaborate tiara covered in sparkly rhinestones; it was both hideous and ludicrous at the same time. “I’m drawing the line here. This is my line in the sand.”
Jules glared at her. “Wrong. You’re wearing that. Those are the rules.”
“Why don’t these rules apply to you on your birthday?”
“Because the rules are meant to force you out of your shell. And I don’t need to be forced out of my shell because I don’t have a shell. I haven’t had a shell since I hit puberty.”
Paige sighed and put the tiara on, feeling ridiculous. “Fine. But no pictures with me wearing it. That’s my new line in the sand.”
“Wrong again. There will be pictures.”
Since Jules had taken an Uber to Paige’s place, they took another one to a trendy looking salon, which wasn’t alarming at first; Jules usually took her somewhere to have her make-up done before they went out. It wasn’t until Paige was sitting in the stylist’s chair and heard the word ‘makeover’ that she started to get a little nervous.
“Makeover? What’s going on?” Paige asked.
“Just a small one,” Jules promised. “You’re going to love it.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“Is this my … surprise?”
“Yes.”
The hairstylist, whose name was Sophie, gathered up some of Paige’s hair and asked Jules, “How much leeway do I have?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking me that?” Paige protested.
“No.” Jules sounded like one of Hitler’s SS henchmen. “It’s not up to you. If it was, you wouldn’t give Sophie any leeway.”
“I don’t know about this,” Paige said slowly.
Jules took Paige’s hand and held it firmly. “Do you trust me?”
It wasn’t the first time Jules had posed that question in their long friendship and even though there had been a few times the results had gone a little sideways, Paige nodded, because Jules was her person.
“Then calm down, shut-up, and let Sophie work her magic. Please. You need this.”
A little reluctantly, Paige let her hair get washed and conditioned, and when they were back in Sophie’s chair, Paige cleared her throat. “Please don’t cut my bangs. I’ve almost got them right where I want them,” she told Sophie, not wanting the months she’d invested in growing her bangs out to have been in vain.
“Don’t worry,” Sophie replied cheerfully. “I’m not cutting your bangs. I’m cutting everything else.”
At Paige’s look of terror, Sophie smiled. “Close your eyes if you can’t watch, because it’s coming off.”
The first cut was the hardest and it was a doozy. Sophie literally pulled her hair into a ponytail and then chopped it off; Paige’s eyes watered a little in shock at seeing her hair go from the middle of her back to just touching her shoulders in five seconds.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Sophie nodded approvingly. “It looks better already.”
Paige endured the rest of the haircut with her eyes closed, only opening them when Jules announced it was time to look. When she did, Paige was pleasantly surprised to see that her longer bangs now blended with her shorter hair into a tousled bob that was very flattering. “Oh.”
“I told you so,” Jules murmured smugly.
After Sophie dried and styled Paige’s hair into big, wavy curls, Jules insisted on augmenting Paige’s conservative make-up with more eyeliner, mascara, and a raspberry colored lipstick.
“I really like that color on you,” Jules said, giving the lipstick her seal of approval as she was paying for Paige’s visit. Then, deciding her friend needed to have it, Jules stepped away and went to the large make-up display and grabbed a new tube. It was $38 dollars, but she didn’t hesitate to get it added to her bill.
“You’ve already spent way too much—” Paige started to protest.
“Fuck it.” Jules pulled out her credit card. “It’s your birthday.”
Jules then shocked Paige by taking her on a bar crawl, which was a rather clichéd birthday outing and Jules normally didn’t do clichés. In each establishment Jules ordered the drinks for both of them and it soon became clear there was a running theme by the names of the beverage choices that were made: Silk Panty Martini, Between the Sheets, and Sex on the Beach.
By the time they hit the last stop on the tour, a bar called Three Amigos, they were both feeling the effects of the alcohol and Paige had forgotten she was dangerously close to being forty years old.