Wreck the Halls

Fine. Definitely hers.

Come to think of it, she was kind of grateful to the woman currently lecturing her about the importance of wearing the correct bra size. At least it was distracting Melody from the butterflies in her stomach that had been circling madly since Wednesday’s confessional taping.

There isn’t a single thing that could make you look bad.

Beat had said those words to her. Meant them.

And then there was the fact that she’d be dropping in unexpectedly on her mother. Did she have an undiscovered sadistic streak? Because the simple act of imagining the shock on Trina’s face was enough to make Melody breathless. Not once in her life had she managed to render Trina speechless. Or any form of surprised, really.

During those February visits, Melody usually spent most of the time nodding along to Trina’s stories and rants. What if signing on to this reunion show and putting herself out in front of the world made her mother see her differently? Maybe Trina would recognize something of herself in Melody and want to explore their commonalities? It was a lot, maybe too much, to hope for. But their relationship couldn’t remain status quo.

Whatever happened over the next nine days . . . something was happening. Either she was kicking the beehive of their mother-daughter relationship, hoping to change it. Or she was finally taking steps toward cutting the purse strings.

Right now, in this moment, anything happening felt like enough. She’d swung the bat instead of hoping to get walked to first base. She was participating in her own life, instead of trying to blend into the wallpaper.

“You are only filling out half this bra, my friend.” A woman named Lola with swooping eyebrows and black lip liner was dangling Melody’s most basic of beige bras in front of her face. “Typically, women wear bras that are too small and put themselves in a whole double boob situation, but not you. This thing reaches all the way up to your freaking collarbone. It might as well be a turtleneck.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“Comfortable!” The woman’s nostrils flared to the size of quarters. “Who said wearing a bra is supposed to be comfortable?”

“Maybe someone should have said that?”

Melody was whisked out of the chair and pulled across the carpeted wardrobe space to stand in front of a full-length mirror. Lola unbelted the silk robe Melody was wearing and pushed it dramatically to the ground.

“Hey!” Melody squeaked, wrapped her arms around her chest.

Lola shooed them away. “Look! Look at those cute little boobies. Let’s give them a proper home.”

“My God. They’re breasts, not rescue pets.”

“Aren’t they, though?”

“I see you’ve met Lola,” Danielle drawled from the entrance. “She’ll be packing you a wardrobe for the next nine days to make sure you look your best.” She held up a hand to someone in the hallway behind her. “No filming. She’s getting dressed.” Danielle made a wrap it up gesture to Lola. “Can you . . . ?”

“Working on it, boss. She’s not the easiest client.” Melody sputtered while watching Lola rummage through a plastic crate full of undergarments until she finally selected a bra, holding it up like it was baby Simba. “This will work with the gown I have in mind.”

Before Melody could say a word, Lola had circled around behind her and hooked the bra into place, twisted it around her waist, and jerked it up to cover her boobs. Lola wiggled it higher and then Melody was looking at herself in the mirror in nothing but a strapless bra and thong underwear.

Instinct screamed at Melody to cover herself. No one had seen her in this state of undress in quite a while. Even the times she’d been intimate with a man, she’d wrestled with going completely naked, struggling with those leftover body insecurities she’d developed as a teen. Hard not to develop a few of those suckers when tabloids were zooming in on her thigh dimples and circling them in bright yellow, right?

Instead of lunging for the silk robe, though, she forced herself to stand still and wait for Lola to carry over the sepia-colored gown. The whole situation seemed run-of-the-mill to the other two women in the room. Maybe it was. Melody has seen behind-the-scenes footage of her mother doing costume changes during concerts while forty crew members stood by. Was this a miniature version of what Trina felt in those moments? Self-conscious and exposed?

No. Definitely not.

Trina would request less clothing. She’d throw her arms up over her head and dance.

“Don’t forget the mic,” Danielle said briskly.

“Forget the wire and battery pack that ruins the perfect lines of my dress? Never.” Ignoring Danielle’s snort, Lola attached a small black box to the rear waistband of Melody’s thong, circling around with a wire and clipping a tiny microphone to the cup of her strapless bra. “They don’t want me telling you this,” Lola whispered, “but if you need to turn off the mic, like maybe you want some privacy in the bathroom, there is a button on the top of the pack. Just reach back and squeeze the box through the dress—you’ll feel it.”

“Thank you,” Melody said, but the stylist was already halfway across the room.

“Incoming,” Lola sang a moment later, holding the gown over Melody’s head and letting it tumble down her body in a shimmering wave. “Oh, this color is incredible on you.”

“First nice thing you’ve said to me all day.”

“That’s how you know I really mean it.”

Laughing under her breath, Melody shifted her body around. “Actually, it’s pretty comfortable—”

“Stop using the ‘C’ word in my presence.”

“Lola hates the ‘C’ word,” Danielle interjected, while looking down at her phone.

“It is, though—”

Lola drew the back of the gown together and zipped it up. In an instant, the bodice went from loose to skintight. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Lola grabbed Melody by the shoulders. “Look at yourself. Look.”

Danielle came up beside her, no longer distracted by her phone. “Wow.” She inspected her, head to toe. “Melody, you were beautiful before. You didn’t need a makeover. No one does—”

Lola snorted.

“But damn.” Danielle’s reflection winked at Melody in the mirror. “A little extra effort looks good on you.”