5. Chanice
Chanice
Ipull at the clingy fabric as Jessie tries to wrangle me into one of her skintight dresses. The red lace overlaying a satin slip sticks to me as she slides it down over my head.
“I don’t know about this,” I say as the fabric presses all around me.
“Believe me, you’re going to look great.”
The plus side to having a friend the same size as you is sharing clothes. The bad side is that you have no excuse to say no when you don’t like them. Despite my better judgment, I let her get it on me with little to no fight.
As she adjusts the hem, I turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. Not completely discouraged by the look of it, I rotate from side to side, taking it all in.
The fit makes all my curves come through, creating dips and creases in the fabric.
It’s short enough that my legs, shaved and full of lotion, are on display, looking touchable.
I actually look pretty good. Good enough that I could pass for someone who could afford to go to this posh restaurant he chose.
“See. You look stunning. Now let’s just fix your hair and put some eyeliner on you.” She drags me to the vanity and plops me down on the stool.
Gathering my coiled curls, she pulls two pieces out front to frame my face. She places the rest in a bun on the top of my head, using a ponytail and bobby pins. With a toothbrush and some edge control, she slicks down my baby hairs until they’re pressed down on my forehead in swirls.
I turn to face her as she picks up the black eyeliner and uncaps it.
“Do you want it to go all around or just the wing?”
“Wing,” I say.
She gets to work, steadying me with one hand on my chin. Her manicured eyebrows pull together in the middle of her forehead as she concentrates on drawing a clean line. Having mastered makeup at a young age, Jessie knows how to make eyes and lips pop on an otherwise round face.
“I can’t believe after all the work I did, you are the one who landed a rich guy.” She tsks with her tongue, all while smiling, to let me know she isn’t really upset.
“I know. It’s mad. But don’t worry, I’m just some itch for him to scratch. He said we’re complete opposites, and that is why he wants to date me. ”
“Is that okay with you?” Grabbing two red lipsticks, she compares the shades against the dress.
“I don’t know. I have never been with someone like him before either, and I really need to get laid.” I pout my full lips as she applies lip liner and the shade she thinks matches best. I wait for her to be done, resisting the urge to glance and see how it looks.
“No, what you really need is to get pregnant by this guy. I bet he has ‘have a baby by me baby, be a millionaire’ type energy.” Teeth show with how wide she is smiling as she wipes the corners of my mouth.
“Yeah, cause I need another mouth to feed.” Let alone a lifetime attachment to another human being. One I barely know.
“You are missing the point. Everything will be taken care of, and you won’t have to lift a finger.” She spins me so I can finally see my reflection.
More than satisfied with the result, I reach for my phone to take a picture. The first in months where I am not in a uniform or making a funny face with the kids. I need to commemorate the fact that I can still be hot.
“I will not have sex with this man and trap him into taking care of me. That’s messed up.” Standing, I move to the mirror to snap a shot of my full body. Then, turning the angle, I get one of just my face.
“No, it is not. What’s messed up is having three jobs and barely getting by, while some people don’t have to work at all and can live off investments or inheritance.
This life is a game, and we started off losing.
It’s our right to use what we do have to get ahead, and you have a killer ass and good head game.
Prostitution is frowned upon, but having sex with a person rich enough to take care of you isn’t.
” Jessie ends her rant with her hands on her waist.
She looks ready to continue the argument, but I throw my hands up, relenting. “I get what you’re saying, but I just want to have sex. And when I’m finished raising these kids in ten years, I don’t want to have any more to take care of.”
Thinking about them makes my stomach drop. I fight the urge to take off the dress and just go home as I calculate the time I’ve already spent away from them. Crossing my arms, I frown at the floor.
“Don’t you dare do it,” Jessie says, cupping my cheek.
“I rarely get a night off, and I’m choosing to spend it with a stranger instead of them. Isn’t that messed up?” Sinking onto her bed, my hands fall between my legs.
“No it’s not, love. You deserve to have things for yourself, and taking one night to eat fancy food and have hopefully good sex is not a crime.”
She grabs my face again before I can shake my head, forcing me to look at her.
“Just give yourself this. It’s just one night.”
As much as I want to, I can’t help but feel guilty.
“Look, you are already dressed up, and they are already prepared to spend the evening without you. So get your arse up and go have fun.” My cheek stings from the pinch she gives it.
“Alright, alright,” I say, standing.
“What I would give to be you right now,” she says, looking at her watch. “You gotta go if you want to make it to the restaurant. It’s in Chelsea.”
She pushes me through her bedroom door and to the front of her place. I grab the heels I brought from the supermarket bag and throw in my trainers.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to grab all my stuff.”
“No rush, just have fun tonight. You deserve it.” She hugs me tight, like she can impress upon me her best wishes.
I take them and fold them into the smile that stays on my face all the way to the restaurant. When I walk in, it falters a little as I take in the luxury that is the low-lit, high-class space.
Chandeliers hang from the ceiling over white-clothed tables with candles in the center.
The walls, a natural wood with beautifully carved crown molding, hold large pieces of artwork, abstract and muted enough to match the space.
The kitchen is visible from the dining room, letting you see the food being prepared.
It looks like a place that charges for the water.
“Hello, how can I help you?” The hostess looks at me, face brimming with all the fake joy her job requires. I sympathize with her, knowing I was just in her position last night.
“Um, reservation for Whitmore.” I square my shoulders like a perfect posture will make me belong here, all while trying to stay steady in these six-inch heels.
“Perfect. Right this way.” She grabs the menus and starts for the back of the room.
I follow behind, trying my best not to stare at the people whose tables I pass. When she stops at a two-seater, I see it is empty and that I beat him here.
“Your server will be over shortly to get you started with a drink.”
Sliding into a chair, I grab the menu and open it up to see what this place has to offer. As my eyes roam down the paper, I feel my heart pick up its beat.
“Holy shit.” There’s no fucking prices.
Today’s date is printed at the top of the menu, and the list of appetizers, main courses, and dessert follows it.
All without a single price. The bravado that pushed me into showing up sinks to the bottom of my gut, forcing me to slide down in the chair.
Just in time for a man in a nice white pressed shirt to walk over.
“Hello, are we still waiting for someone to join?” He has one arm in front of him pressed against his stomach, the other tucked behind his back. A white glove covers his hand.
“Uh, yes,” I say, scooting back up.
“Can I get you something to drink while you wait? We have a lavender martini on special tonight.”
“How much is it?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“Twenty-eight pounds.” His voice is calm and level, like what he is saying is the most rational thing ever.
My voice comes out in a squeak, as I fight with the panic to talk. “Just water.”
“Sparkling or still?”
“Tap?”
His lips twitch as his eyebrows raise up his forehead. Without saying another word, he turns and makes his way back towards the kitchen.
If it wasn’t already obvious that I don’t belong here, I just made it crystal clear.
The sudden sensation that I can’t do this overtakes my whole body, making it impossible for me to stay in my seat.
I know now that this is a mistake. Placing the menu back on the table, I stand and come face-to-face with Alexander.
“Leaving already?”
Although he just caught me mid-escape, his shoulders seem at ease, and his stance relaxed as he takes me in. All the swear words run through my mind as I try to think of a way out of this.
“I was going to the toilet,” I lie, at a loss for a good excuse for leaving.
“They’re the other way.” He points behind me.
I look back and forth between him and the unhelpful placement of the washrooms, before my shoulders slump.
“Look, I can’t do this.” My legs shift back and forth. I try to find a comfortable balance between brave and embarrassed. “This is not for me, and I’m going to go.” I try to step around him to make my way towards the door, but he moves in front of me, the game of two-stepping continuing.
“What’s wrong?” He puts a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place as his smile melts into a frown.
I can’t look at him, so I look down at his shirt. It’s black with a gray paisley print all over it. The first few buttons are undone, showing his hairless chest. To think I could have been kissing him there later tonight.
“I’m fine. I just think this is a mistake.”
He grabs hold of my chin and lifts my head. I reluctantly make eye contact.
“Chanice, what’s wrong?” His mouth is set in a determined line, his eyes squinting.
He waits for me to answer the question, making it clear I won’t be leaving without telling him.
“The menu doesn’t have prices,” I finally say with a heavy exhale.
“So?”
“So how expensive must a place be that the people who come here don’t care about the cost?”
He lowers his hand from my face, letting his arm fall back to his side. His mouth quirks up in the corner.
“I am going to pay tonight.” His words should have been a relief to the panic burning in my veins. Instead, they add fuel to the fire, painting my cheeks red from the heat. This restaurant made me realize how different our worlds are, and I can’t bring myself to think they should mesh.
“I still think I should go.” I move to walk around him, but again he steps into my path, not letting me go.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”
He offers a solution to the problem I’ve created. His determination to continue on this evening is backing me into a corner.
“Come on, I have somewhere in mind.” He turns to go back towards the front of the restaurant, leaving me no choice but to follow.
As we walk in-between the tables, we pass by the waiter with a glass of water in his hand.
“I’m sorry. We’re leaving,” I say, guilt riding its way up my chest.
It makes a home right next to the panic, making me feel overwhelmingly stupid.
Alexander stops short and looks at the man, who just nods at me.
He taps the server on the shoulder, goes into his pocket, and hands him something, passing it discreetly.
Without even looking at what he got, the man’s face lights up before he starts to head back the way he was coming.
Relief that I didn’t just ruin someone else’s night eases some of the tension clawing under my skin. The balmy night air typical of an August evening helps with the rest as we step outside.
He calls someone on his phone while I try to gather myself and pull together something to say. When he faces me, I pinch my brows together.
Nerves rattle me to my bones, causing all my words to be rushed and breathy. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being difficult. This is a nice restaurant. It might be too nice. I just don’t think I should be here. I am—”
“Stop,” he commands. He grabs my hand, pulling me closer to him, hazel eyes cutting into my own.
“Breathe.” He takes in a big breath himself to demonstrate, all while waiting for me to follow orders.
I do as he says, and a lot of my apprehension releases with the exhale.
“You are overthinking this.”
I nod because I know I am.
“I picked this restaurant because I wanted to give you the type of experience we talked about, but where we’re going next is where I would have really liked to go. If you still want to continue with this date, I promise you will have a good time.”
I try to take in his words and hear exactly what he is saying.
I breathe in and out again for extra measure to try and calm myself down.
The surety with which he speaks eases the panic coiling inside of me, and I look up to see his steel-strong determination.
I came all this way to go on this date. I can’t let my fears stop me now.
“Okay, yes, I want to continue.”
He pulls my fingers up to his lips and grazes a kiss across them before he lets them go. Smiling at my agreement, he turns towards the street. When a car pulls up, I resign myself to trying to have a good night.