They led me over to the shampoo bowl and for the next hour, I lay back and let them do at least ten different protein treatments. When they were done, they took turns brushing soft, autumn colored highlights into my hair, promising me that Jonathan “would f**k [me] on the spot” once he saw the ‘new and improved’ me.
I’d given up on protesting any of their suggestions; I’d accepted their “We know what we’re doing” and “You’re dealing with the best” mantras. Even when they insisted that I let them place some type of sea-food inspired gunk on my face, I didn’t bother telling them that I hated seafood. I just held my breath and got it over with.
“Okay, now relax...” Kim pulled a steaming hot blow dryer through my hair. “This is the most important part. This is where we make you look f**kable.”
As she teased, combed, and curled my hair, Bobbie Jo hummed and applied makeup to my face, demanding that I purse my lips every few seconds.
I suddenly felt my phone vibrating and pulled it out of my pocket.
I was hoping it was Jonathan, but it was a number I didn’t recognize. A text. “Heard you’re on vacation in Costa Rica—must be nice...We need to speak as soon as you get back. I’m not taking no for an answer so be ready to TALK—Ryan.”
“Is it Jonathan?” Kim sighed.
“Um, no.” I deleted the message. “It’s not Jonathan. Just someone with the wrong number.” I shut my eyes and sat still as they continued to work, trying not to think about Ryan and whatever the hell he wanted to talk about.
How did he get my new number?
“Okay, we’re all done.” Kim sounded happy. “Now it’s time to help you into the right dress.” She put the blindfold over my eyes again and led me into another room.
For what felt like another hour, she and Bobbie Jo literally dressed and undressed me until they finally agreed on what I should wear.
“Turn around, sexy.” Bobbie Jo took off my blindfold and spun me around. “What do you think?”
Wow...
I didn’t recognize myself.
My hair was now a much deeper and shinier red—with hints of dark blond and hazel brown, and it was styled into an up-do of loose and wavy curls—a style I was considering for the wedding.
My eyes veered down towards the thin white dress they’d picked and I felt naked, exposed—like there was no point in me wearing a dress at all.
Bobbie Jo raised her eyebrow. “Something wrong with the dress?”
“No, it’s just...It’s a bit...”
“A bit what?”
I shook my head at the hemline that barely grazed my thigh, at the crisscrossed fabric in the front that exposed the skin underneath my br**sts. “Slutty.”
“It is not slutty!” Kim scoffed. “This is HOT! All the men are going to be looking at you tonight!”
“I’m getting married.”
“But you don’t have to look married.” Bobbie Jo rolled her eyes. “This is a night you’re going to look back on and cherish years from now, and we’re going to make damn sure that you never forget it...”
Chapter 11
Claire
I leaned on Kim’s shoulder as we left the third club of the night. My feet were completely numb from dancing so much, and my throat was aching from the amount of alcohol they’d forced me to drink.
We hadn’t been on “the list” for any of the clubs we’d been to, but Bobbie Jo and Kim had turned on their charm—i.e. rubbed their br**sts against the bouncers and flirted with the security guards, so that we could skip everyone and get in for free.
“Is this the last club, Helen?” I slurred, noticing that we were stopping in front of an all-black building where there was no line. “I’m...I’m not sure if I can...If I can take any more tonight...”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes this is the last club. Well, it’s not really a club. It’s...” She put her hands on my shoulders to steady me. “This is what I’ve been putting together ever since you told me you were engaged. I honestly hate to lose any friend to the married life, but since you want to go that route, I kept that sentiment in mind while I was planning every moment of this...”
Why is she acting like this is the greatest shit she’s ever accomplished?
“This is how I want your single life to come to an end.” She pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “So, please do me a favor and try to let yourself go for the rest of the night. No judging, no worries, nothing. Can you please promise me that?”
I nodded.
“Say it like you mean it, Claire.”
“I promise.”
“Great!” She opened the door and ushered us all inside.
We walked through two dimly lit hallways, where I could hear the thumping bass of music coming from another room.
The air was getting thicker and thicker with each step I took and I was starting to sweat.
As we rounded a corner, a buff body guard stood up and crossed his arms—blocking the silver door that was behind him.
“Name,” he said flatly.
“Claire Statham.” The three of them said in unison.
He looked all of us over, as if he were questioning why we were there, and then he opened the door. “Have a nice night ladies.”
I felt myself being pushed inside the room, and once my eyes realized what the hell they were seeing, my jaw hit the floor.