Page 81 of Just for the Cameras
She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, you look hot.”
I glance down at the simple dress with an off-the-shoulder sleeve, form-fitting bodice, and short hem.
“I don’t even have shoes to wear with this.”
Everly picks up her bag from near the front door. “I knew you were going to say that, so I came prepared.” She pulls out a pair of matching red high heels. “These will do, and oh look, matching lipstick too.”
“Why do I feel like you planned this all along? Is this even a bridesmaid dress?”
“That’s neither here nor there.” She claps her hands and then makes me turn around so she can finish zipping me up. “This is perfect. He’s going to pass away when he sees you in this.”
“‘Pass away’? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
“Well, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about him being an ass anymore. Death by red dress, what a way to go.”
I move back into my bedroom and look at myself in the mirror. “I don’t know, Everly, it doesn’t seem…appropriate.”
“Believe me, it’s entirely appropriate.” Everly stands behind me and pushes my hair to the side. “This is so pretty on you, and you’ll really stand out. Isn’t that what you want?”
“No,” I say. “I don’t ever stand out. I’m always the girl in the background, and I like it there.”
I’ve always felt more comfortable around animals than humans. Birds in particular—no surprise there. I wasn’t interested in the junior or senior prom, didn’t join a sorority in college, and apart from Everly and Polly, my friend from college, I don’t have many friends. And I’m quite happy with that. I’m a happy people watcher…on the periphery. Standing out,in a red dress, has never been my desire.
“Well, you’re not that girl anymore, not when Graydon will be by your side at this event.” She places her hands on my hips and talks to me while looking at the mirror in front of us. “Not that we need to change for society, but you can make it easier for yourself to thrive.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, keep your vibrant, sweet, loving personality, but dress the exterior in something the public can’t possibly hate. Don’t give them fodder to troll the girl who’s hooked to Graydon St. John. Give them all the reason to cheer you on.”
“But don’t you think a short red dress screams…hussy?”
“No, it screams bold and confident.”
“What about that black dress?” I say, moving to the living room. “Don’t you think that will look nice?”
“The bodice is rippling with jewels. I brought it as a joke.”
I sigh and lean against the doorframe, looking my friend in the eye. “This is not me.”
“Neither is the girl who would be seen romantically with someone like Graydon St. John. Sometimes we just need to play the part.” She smirks and adds, “And make them drool while you do.”
I roll my eyes. “Trust me, Graydon’s not going to drool over thisdress. The day Graydon drools over me is the day I sprout dragon wings and fly.”
“Oh, um, my friend gave me this lipstick to wear tonight,” I say to the makeup artist, Marty, who’s finishing up. My hair is done as well, pulled back into a low bun—something I could have easily manufactured if I didn’t have a splint, but hey, not my money spent.
“Oh, thanks,” Marty says as she takes the lipstick and lines my lips. When she’s done, she sprays what I learned is setting spray all over my face while her friend packs up everything else. She hands me a mirror. “What do you think? We kept it neutral, didn’t go heavy, and just accentuated your eyes. Your skin’s flawless, so I didn’t have to add much foundation, just a little to even your skin tone and to cover the light bruising.”
I take a look at myself in the mirror, and honestly, I’m blown away. She really didn’t add much, which I appreciate. She did a very thin line of black around my eyes to make them pop, coated my lashes with mascara, and added some blush and bronzer. Honestly, the red lips are the real highlight.
My hair is slicked back, but in a higher bun than I expected, giving me more shape.
Huh…I look…I look really nice.
“This is lovely. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Marty finishes packing up, and I glance at the time. Fifteen minutes before I need to leave.
“Umm, should I tip?” I ask awkwardly, unsure how this works.
