8. Chapter 8
Suffice to say, it all sucked.
Sure, Alicia had collected some nice clothes over the years, but none of them was date with Danica Moreau material.
Too bad she and Candice weren’t the same size.
Trying to fit into one of Candice’s size two monstrosities would be like trying to cram herself into a corset.
My breasts and hips ain’t that big, but she’s got less than I do!
“No, no, no.” Candice had created a large pile of silk and cotton on Alicia’s bed. Who was going to put it all away? “Don’t you have anything by a designer? Like Chanel?”
Alicia slowly shook her head. “Who can afford that?”
“Danica Moreau, that’s who. Probably affords some designers we can’t even conceptualize right now!”
Unless Danica had plans to buy Alicia some clothes during their date, however, they had to work with what they had.
Alicia returned home on Thursday after an afternoon shift at Blue Bird.
Ever since Danica made her grand entrance into one of her family’s holdings, people had treated Alicia differently.
Especially Scott. They got along fine before that, but the guy was as fake as some of the tits Candice saw on her sets.
Now that it had been established that she had ties with one of the big kahunas upstairs?
She was looking to get those good weekend shifts sooner rather than later.
Still didn’t save her from the hell that was her bedroom. Someone had never bothered to put it away after Candice was done destroying everything Alicia had stored over the years.
Turned out that was the least of her concerns when she arrived home.
“What the hell!” Someone had helped themselves into her apartment.
Not anyone, either. This was not a burglar, or a home invasion, or something as nefarious as any of those.
While the person – people! – in the apartment certainly had no right to be there, they probably thought they did.
As soon as a tycoon’s money greased their hands, they went where bade.
Apparently, a team of stylists was told to come to Alicia and Candice’s apartment.
Candice wasn’t home yet. If she had been, surely she would’ve texted Alicia about the woman and man tearing up the bedrooms to get a feel for “what they have to work with.” Alicia happened to walk in as a tall, broad man in a lavender suit asked, “Is this a joke?”
“Um, hi.” So much for her plan of grabbing a cranberry juice and watching Candice’s recorded episodes of Gold Rush . “Can I help you? What are you doing in my freakin’ house?”
The woman, who had hair so blond it bordered on white, stood up from the couch and extended a soft hand to Alicia. “I’m Rayne. Ms. Moreau sent us.”
“Rayne, huh?”
The stylist pretended she didn’t hear that. “She’s asked us to help you dress for tomorrow’s meeting.” Meeting? Were they going to discuss stocks and bonds over their candlelit dinner? “I can see why now.”
Such was her summation of Alicia as she took in the Blue Bird uniform.
Polyester not good enough for you, huh? Alicia couldn’t argue, really.
It itched like the devil, and was such a monster to get stains out of.
She always had stains. Even as a hostess, she was getting ketchup, snot, and the public’s judgment spilled on her.
There wasn’t enough Clorox in the world.
Had these people ever seen a bottle of Clorox before? Probably not. Why bother when a team of dry cleaners was at your disposal?
“Tell me, Renaldo,” Rayne said, staring at poor Alicia in the middle of her living room. “What’s our budget, again?”
The man in the lavender suit flipped through his tablet. “Considering how much work we have to do… we can afford Barney’s and Pauline for hair.”
“ Che ,” Rayne muttered. “I could recite what Barney’s has this season. As for Pauline? We can’t get Laryette?” She looked back at Alicia. “This girl needs Laryette.”
“It will depend on what we get at Barney’s, but I can schedule an emergency appointment with Pauline, for sure.”
An exasperated sigh blew through the apartment. “Fine! Give her fair warning about the horrors we’re about to unleash, though.” Rayne grabbed the bottom of Alicia’s ponytail. Excuse you! Alicia swatted her like the obnoxious fly she was.
“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?” Alicia asked.
Renaldo stepped between her and Rayne, who was more concerned with making hair and makeup appointments than taking another look at the disappointing canvas she was given to work with.
“As we said, we’ve been hired to help you dress for your meeting with Ms. Moreau tomorrow.
No charges at all for you. Everything is complimentary of Ms. Moreau. ”
“I’m sure it is.” Alicia was trapped between fuming and swooning.
After all, the woman had grown up watching those makeover shows.
Sometimes she sat in cafés or parks imagining two stylists walking up to her and saying, “We’re here to save your sense of fashion!
” Now that it had happened, however? Something stank.
It was probably Danica’s money. This wasn’t something nice done for Alicia.
This was Danica taking more control of their interactions by determining what Alicia looked like.
So much for surprising her with a new blouse or something.
“We don’t have much time,” Renaldo continued. “If you would please come with us, we would appreciate it.”
Alicia remained firm where she stood. “Nobody cuts my hair.” She had been growing it for years, ever since a botched cut when she was in tenth grade. Sure, she trimmed it here and there, but she knew these stylist types. Long hair? Hack it off!
Another exasperated sigh. “We can at least clip the bangs and split ends, right?”
“Sure…”
“Great! Let’s get the hell out of here, then. Everywhere I turn, it’s the same fucking carpet. How can you live like this?” Rayne stared down at the black polyester uniform still bedecking Alicia’s physique. “Seriously. I would’ve killed myself long ago.”
Renaldo leaned in toward Alicia’s ear. “She’s a bit dramatic, but she’s one of the best at her job. Trust me. I’ve seen her do some remarkable style makeovers.”
Alicia almost didn’t believe him. “Will I still look like myself?”
He shrugged. “Think of it this way. It’s still your body and your mind locked inside it. All we do is change the window dressing.”
Somehow, that did not inspire a lot of confidence in the situation.
“Black again?” Alicia asked incredulously, as she stood in front of the mirrors at the downtown Barney’s. “Don’t they carry any other colors here?”
“There are some,” Renaldo began, hanging up more black dresses and blouses next to the mirror. Alicia was amid shimmying out of the latest dress when Rayne walked back in, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe Alicia would dare to defile such a piece of priceless fashion.
“If we buy you something from here, Ms. Moreau will be expecting her favorite color.”
Of course, it would be black. No wonder she kept getting the hots for Alicia.
First, she wore that little black dress at Midnight, then she wore her black pencil skirt and black and white blouse.
Danica had no problem ripping apart Alicia’s black tights, right?
Did she get wet from my black polyester Blue Bird uniform?
“What, is she looking at my label when I walk into the room?”
“She’ll see the statements after we’re done here.” Rayne’s face softened for the first time in hours. “Trust us, you want us to build up the anticipation for you. We’re not only helping you because we’re paid to.”
Alicia didn’t think twice about spinning around in her underwear. Everyone in the changing area had seen her like that for a while now.
Rayne was more critical of her body than Renaldo was. The man made a flippant comment about her hip-to-waist ratio and how good that was for a certain style of dress, but otherwise he said nothing, and Alicia was glad of it. Last thing she needed was more opinions.
Not that she saw a huge difference in these dresses, either. Sheath dresses, halter dresses, A-line, Queen Anne, cashmere or silk… at the end of the day, they all looked the same on her. Or so she swore as yet another knee-length dress was put on her body.
“Hmm.” Rayne rubbed her chin. A few feet away, Alicia’s phone buzzed in her purse. Must have been Candice, wondering where the hell she was. Alicia barely had time to leave a note before being kidnapped. “Why don’t we try the floor-length gown?”
Renaldo thumbed through the rack with a sigh. “I had them put it back already. I couldn’t imagine us actually using it. This is a date, not a gala or other such function.”
So they were going to admit that this was a date and not a “meeting?” Great. “We can make it work,” Rayne insisted. “Get it on her before I change my mind.”
Rolling his eyes, Renaldo escaped the dressing area to hunt down this dress he had already discarded once.
A floor-length gown, huh? Was this a prom do-over?
I didn’t have a date for my prom. It might be nice, I guess.
She couldn’t imagine Danica being her date, though.
That woman would roll up in her million-dollar limo bearing a tiger lily corsage and a peacock to use as the biggest prop.
She wouldn’t even take me to the prom. She’d take me to a house party and do me dirty in some mom’s bedroom .
Oh, who was she kidding? The party would be at Danica’s!
As she stood, half naked, Alicia imagined being whisked away to that penthouse suite at the top of that building.
She had only seen one room out of how many?
An empty office? Maybe tomorrow night would be the one for checking out Danica’s bedroom.
Would the bodyguard be coming along as well?
Damn, she hoped not! Alicia didn’t care how much those guys were paid to look the other way while the boss was ate out. An audience was an audience!