“Honestly, if I saw him, I don’t think I would give him a second glance, but at the same time, he does sort of look familiar.”
“I want you all to memorize his face. If you ever see him or anyone around that looks like him, you call us immediately. He might look wimpy in the picture, but that doesn’t mean he’s not capable of harm,” Garrett stresses. “The sex scenes have apparently sent him over the edge. That makes him very dangerous.”
I look at the photo again and memorize his face. “Okay,” I say. Then I get the heck out of there.
Friday, May 20th
Possibly a little bit hotter.
7:45pm
Cush and I don’t get to just hang out tonight because Vanessa invited all her candidates to a party.
She told us if we didn’t go, she would give away our lunch seats.
Cush thought we should let her give them away, but I’m not quite ready for that yet. I feel like need to have a plan first.
RiAnne’s mom was apparently excited to host the party. She quickly decided on a Monte Carlo theme and managed to get the whole thing catered on short notice.
I don’t really understand the reasoning behind this party. I get that Vanessa wants to have the right people at her table, but we party with a lot of people on a regular basis. I could rattle off the names of twenty people that are cool, but she has a different approach.
She says she wants to be choosier. Wants people that know how to behave in all social settings. Just because you can dance on a bar doesn’t mean you are worthy.
Which was obviously a slam towards me.
Fine. I like to dance. And it’s not like I’m the only one. There are plenty of girls that get up on the bar and dance with me.
Except for Vanessa.
She can’t dance worth a crap. She doesn’t play any sports. Like, not even your typical country club golf and tennis. Her dad told her half the world’s business gets done on a golf course, and she should learn to play. He made her take lessons the past two summers. She went to the country club and signed up with the cutest, youngest instructors. Boys back from college for the summer.
Let’s just say they didn’t teach her anything golf-related and leave it at that.
The invitations that were hand delivered yesterday afternoon stated that formal attire is required. We just had prom; I doubt anyone really wants to get all dressed up again, but since I wasn’t involved in the planning, I couldn’t say anything.
Vanessa wanted us to shop together for new dresses last night, but Thursday is my night to go dancing.
I lied like I usually do and told Vanessa I had a family thing.
They texted me photos of their dresses, so I wouldn’t wear anything similar, and I assured them I would dress appropriately.
Cush will be here in a few minutes. He’s going to wear one of Tommy’s tuxedos. They’re almost the same size, but Cush is leaner in the way young soccer players are.
I had my hair blown out then curled into soft waves. Depending on what dress I pick, we may pull some of it up.
Kym is flipping through pictures on her iPad, looking at mom’s dress inventory while a makeup artist does my base makeup.
“Oh, I need to show you the photos of Vanessa and RiAnne’s dresses. They don’t want me in the same color.”
I hand her my phone.
She scrunches her nose up like she just smelled something rotten. “They look like they’re going to prom, not Monte Carlo.”
She drops the phone in my lap and goes back to her iPad.
“Here. Here it is.” She thrusts the iPad in front of me and shows me a gorgeous white, Grecian style Marchesa gown. “This is from their Resort Collection. I bought it for your mom to wear in Cannes, but you’d look gorgeous in it. Do her makeup with lots of gold. Oh, and I have the perfect hairstyle.” She flips to another file and shows the hairstylist.
“That’s really pretty,” I tell her. The hairstylist pulls a few of the front layers of my hair into a single braid that weaves its way across the back of my head but still leaves my waves intact.
When my hair and makeup are finished, I hear the doorbell ring.
“That should be Cush,” I say.
“I’ll go get him fitted. Is he hot? Of course, he’s hot. Is he eighteen yet? Do I need to worry about dressing him?”
I laugh at Kym. “He’s still seventeen, so you better watch your hands. And yeah, he’s really cute.”
I put on the dress. It has a plunging neckline, a triangular top that twists into skinny gold braided straps over my shoulders, and an empire waist highlighted by matching gold braiding. I feel regal and sexy at the same time. I add the gold platform sandals, simple gold earrings, and large gold dinner ring that Kym set out to finish the look.
Kym comes back in to check on my progress. “That dress is perfect with your tan. Mr. Soccer Cutie is going to be drooling all over you tonight, girl.”
“No, he won’t. We’re just friends, and honestly, I think I’d rather make Vanessa and RiAnne drool.”
“I think it was Betsey Johnson that said women dress for other women. If we dressed for men, we’d all run around naked.”