I lied. I wasn’t happy to wear it. I’d found it on eBay, secondhand. It was okay, but in comparison to the lemon-coloured, lace and chiffon Balenciaga halterneck masterpiece draping my body and making sweet love to my skin, yeah … my eBay special was black and boring, boring and … blah.
“You’re not wearing the boobtube,” she deadpanned.
I dismissed her insult by flipping the bird to her mirrored reflection. “It’s not a boobtube.”
“It is. It barely covers your nipples! Look, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice boobtube, but we’re attending a gala; therefore, you need a gala dress.”
Pivoting 360˚, butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I watched the almost gold looking material sweep beautifully with my spinning motion. It was stunning and I really did want to wear it.
“Nope. I can’t,” I forced myself to say, reaching behind my neck and unbuttoning the clasp. “And anyway, I don’t have matching shoes.”
Alexis homed in on my feet and cringed before giggling to herself.
“What?” I pointed my toe, self-consciously. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” The lie on her tongue was unmasked by her melodic singsong tone, the fight to keep her shoulders jerking from laughter a failure.
“Are you going to tell me or are you going to lay there twitching like an electrocuted fish?”
She finally let go and burst into laughter. “Okay okay. Your feet are huge! If you were a bloke, I’d tap you.”
She was right; they were mammoth. And if I were a man, I’d definitely tap me too.
“True,” I said, waggling my eyebrows and cupping my hand over my snatch. “I’d be cockgantic, dickumental … penormous.”
She continued laughing then made a ‘vroom vroom’ noise with her lips while swaying Brayden above her. “What would be the first thing you’d do if you did have a cock? I’d fuck. I’d fuck everything.”
“Of course you would. You practically do that anyway.”
The rapid nod of her head was unashamed. “You’re just jealous.”
I was, unfortunately, so I flipped her another bird. “I’d go straight for the tug. I wouldn’t fuck around. I’d pull that thing until I was blowing jizz all over the place and creating a new art movement.”
“Oh my GOD!” Alexis spat out. “You’re disgusting.”
“Come on, don’t act like you hate the stuff.”
“I don’t. I’ve just never wanted to cover a room with it.”
Unzipping the dress, the material fell and pooled at my feet, so I carefully stepped over it. “Well, it’s not like you’d have to clean the room.”
She fired me a derisive glare. “That’s not the point. Someone would have to clean it.”
I smiled. God, I loved her. Since shacking up with boss-man Bryce, she was one of the wealthiest people I knew yet she never it took it for granted. She was still my Lexi from the burbs … just not from the burbs anymore.
Bending over to pick up the dress, I added, “I’d also piss on a tree—”
“Argh!” Alexis cried out, interrupting me.
I jumped and looked up to find her choking and splattering, her face scrunched, a long string of drool dangling from Brayden’s mouth onto hers.
Laughter burst from my chest. It was gross, but it was also something every mother experienced at one point or another.
“Take it away!” she spat, arms locked with Brayden suspended above her.
“Nope. It belongs to you.”
Alexis pried one eye open and peeked at her son before rolling to her side and setting him on his back beside her. “Yuckies.” She wiped her face and then matched my laughter with an outburst of her own. “Wanna know something funny? Bryce hates it when I call Brayden It.”
“I don’t blame him. It is not a very endearing term for your son.”
“Noooo, it’s not that.” She blew a raspberry on Brayden’s belly. He giggled and kicked his legs out stiff, bending them then repeating the process.
Smiling, my heart warmed, a little nostalgic. I missed those adorable little babyisms, the ones that were there and then gone in the blink of an eye. “So what is it then?” I asked, grabbing my blouse and threading it over my head.
“He hates it because of the clown in that Stephen King book, ‘It’.”
“You’re really fucking evil, you know that? Phobias are a real thing.”
“I know. I can’t help it. It fires him up though, and I love it when he’s like that.”
Stepping into my trousers, I pulled them up and buttoned them. “You love it when he’s fired up? As in shitty with you?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because his shittiness always morphs into unbridled sexual need. The more I bait him, the more he wants to devour me.”
I held out my hand and closed my eyes briefly. “Hang on a minute. Are you telling me that when you deliberately piss him off, he wants to fuck you?”
“Uh huh.”
I didn’t buy it. Then again, Bryce always wanted to fuck Alexis, so maybe it wasn’t as farfetched as I thought. “If I deliberately piss Dean off, that’s all I do … piss Dean off. End of story.”
“How’s things going with you two, by the way?”
I turned my back to her and shrugged while hanging her dress on the rail. “Normal shit: He works. I work. He be’s the dad. I be the mum. He makes a mess. I clean the mess. He wants the same ol’ boring sex. I endure the same ol’ boring sex.”
“And where does Dale fit into this?”
“He doesn’t.” I didn’t turn around, instead trailing my fingers over the endless dresses hanging before me.
“I think he does … somewhere. And if you could talk to anyone about it, it’s me. You know that, right?”
I sighed. She was right, but I wasn’t ready to entertain anything concerning Dale until I knew for myself where he fit in.
“But …” she continued, shuffling behind me, “… I won’t push you to tell me. I’m here and I’m ready to listen, comfort, distract and offer advice when you need it.” Alexis’s arms wrapped around my waist and her head rested upon my shoulder. “You’re wearing the Balenciaga, and we’re going downstairs to find a pair of heels to fit those flippers you call feet. No arguments.”
She released me from her hug, and I turned slightly, glancing over my shoulder to watch her pick up Brayden and walk out of her walk-in closet, which more or less resembled a small condo. No arguments? Ha! I always argued with her, and somehow we both ended up winning. I wasn’t sure how, but we did. It was our dynamic and what made our friendship one-of-a-kind. This time, though, I wasn’t going to argue. I was going to wear the dress and go shoe shopping with her, because I needed it. I needed a little pampering in my life. I needed to feel special and worth more than just the food I cooked and the clothes I washed.
I needed a little glamour and excitement.
* * *
“Are you ready?” Alexis whispered, her eyes gleaming, her smile broad.
I sucked in a breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Truth be told, I was metaphorically shitting myself. I’d been at the mercy of Jane and Carl — Alexis’s hair and makeup stylists — for the past three hours. My face had been brushed, smudged, blended and baked; my hair plucked and shaped. I’d mimicked a fish, a duck, and sported a mane to rival any lion. I’d been transformed, and from what I was told — and by the look of ridiculous elation on my best friend’s face — my transformation was for the better.
Oh, and I’d also had my hair cut … a lot.
“Okay, here goes!”
“W … WAIT!” I yelled, planting my feet to prevent my chair spinning to face the mirror. “I can’t. Shit! I really can’t.”
“Of course you can. You look amazing. Trust me, I’d tell you otherwise.”
“I know that. But I … I haven’t had short hair since I was a teenager. I’m scared, Lexi. And oh my gawd … what is Dean gonna say?” A blanket of prickles s
ettled over my skin, and I all of a sudden felt sick.
Alexis whacked my arm. “Stop it. He’ll love it. You look hot.”
My eyes pleaded with hers, pleaded for her words to be nothing but true. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Her ridiculous grin returned, bigger than before, and her head nodded, repeatedly.
“Shit! Okay, spin me around. Do it before I flee faster than Cinderella.”
Alexis didn’t hesitate and turned my chair, placing me in front of the mirror.
I gasped. “Whoa!”
“Yeah, whoa.”
My long, dark brown locks were gone, replaced with chin-length caramel and auburn coloured wisps that framed my face. My eyes were sultry, highlighted by smoky eyeshadow and full black lashes, and my lips were subtly glossed to match the rose of my cheeks.
“I look amazing!” I whispered in awe, touching but not touching my face. “Jane, Carl, you’re both freaks.”
They laughed, as did Lexi.
“Yes, we are freaks of the best kind, darling,” Carl replied. “And proud of it.” He winked. “Now, if you’re happy with your new look, we’ll head off and leave you to it.”
“Oh I am. Thank you so much.”
Carl and Jane began packing up their supplies while I sat and admired my hot as fuck reflection. Holy crap! Is that really me? I hadn’t looked this glamorous and made-up since my wedding day, and even then my face of makeup had melted off not long after it had been applied.
“Told you, ” Lexi sang, appearing over my shoulder, her reflection in the mirror wearing an air of arrogance.
“Yeah, but do you think Dean will like it? I’m not sure. He loves my hair long.” I moved a few strands away from my eyes.
“How could he not like it? It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. And anyway, it doesn’t matter what he thinks. It only matters what you think.”
“It does matter what he thinks. He has to look at me day in and day out.”
“Well, fuck me and pull out the tissues, because if he has to look at that,” she said, pointing to my reflection and swirling her hand. “I’d cry me a fucking river too.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her sarcasm. She was the best type of bitch: the honest type. The no shit type that slapped you into place then smoothed you over with a little love.
“You’re right,” I sighed.
“I’m always right.” She walked over to the bed and unpacked the Rockstud Valentino nude pumps she’d bought me against my wishes and balanced them atop her open palms. “And for the pièce de résistance,” she said in a terrible French accent. She also waggled her eyebrows.
I narrowed mine. “I hate you for buying them.”
“And I’m okay with that.”
Alexis smiled sweetly and passed them to me before disappearing into her walk-in closet, soon returning with a pair of strappy champagne coloured Jimmy Choo sandals to match the ethereal, pale pink, off the shoulder gown she was floating around in.
She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful.
“Do you ever get tired of all of this?” I asked, referring to the glamorous life she now led.
“What? Tired of dressing up like a princess and shmoozing with the world’s elite?”
I scoffed. “Yeah. That.”
She looped her ankle strap. “Of course. All the time. But I endure it, you know?”
“I’m serious.” I placed my heels on the ground by my feet and slipped them on, proceeding to do them up as well.
“Okay okay. It has its good points and its bad, like all things in life. But I’ve learned to adjust and find balance because, to me, that’s the most important thing.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything, so she continued.
“For years I travelled through life, hell bent on pleasing everyone around me. I sacrificed, tolerated, forged ahead and bore whatever was tossed my way. And I did it with a smile that I thought was genuine.” She paused for a split second then looked at me. “But it wasn’t genuine, because you can’t project true happiness if it’s not what you’re experiencing. You can’t fake something so pure. You can try, but it’s just a big fat waste of time.” Alexis stood up, smoothed her gown over her legs and assessed herself in the mirror. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, with or without the glamour and excessive bank balance, because as stupid as it sounds, those two things are just decorations on my family tree of love.”
I smiled at her stupid cuteness. “Your family tree of love?”
“Yep. Bryce, Nate, Charli, Brayden, you, Mum and Dad … everyone I love. You’re all branches and I’m the trunk.”
“You sure you don’t mean you’re drunk?”
She stepped up to me and placed her hands on my shoulders, her eyes searching mine. “How’s your family tree of love? Is it healthy? Happy? Is it growing new branches or in need of a prune?”
She didn’t wait for my response, instead heading toward the door, and that’s when I realised that she didn’t need my answer. I needed it. I just didn’t know what it was … yet.
* * *
The intermittent crackle of Allison’s voice through the headpiece I was wearing hurt my ears. The stupid thing was playing up and it had been driving me crazy ever since we’d started welcoming guests.
“Tash, can you hear me? Serena is the last of the players to arrive. She’s headed toward the Atrium now.”
“Okay. I think I got all of that,” I responded. “If you can hear me, my headpiece still isn’t working properly. I might need a new one. Is Dale in the arrival area with you?”
“Yeah.” Crackle. “He is.”
“Good. Can you please tell him that I need him to take a look at my headset when he’s got a second?”
“Will.” Crackle. “Do.” Crackle. “Where are you?”
“Bottom of the staircase, directing people traffic.”
“I’m gonna get you … that,” crackle, “whistle … one day, you kn—.” Her voice cut off, and this time I think my headpiece really did die on me.
“Shit!” I murmured, correcting my demeanour and offering Lleyton and Bec Hewitt a restrained smile as they approached. “Just head up the stairs. And please watch your step.”
I waved my hand, directing them accordingly. Bec was pregnant, again, and I didn’t want her tripping over her stunning gown on my watch. Holy stretched cervix! How many mini Hewitts do they have now? Three … four … five?
I shuddered at the thought. Two was definitely enough for me. And speaking of my two, I knew they’d be at home watching the televised red carpet arrivals, looking for a glimpse of their mother. They always did when we hosted a prestigious event. They loved it. It was their silly little claim to fame.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a hot brunette who likes purple.”
I turned in the direction of the familiar voice to find Dale in a tuxedo with his hair gelled back, an air of 007 about him — suave but potentially dangerous.
The man required a warning label.
My mouth opened to protest his ill manner but was silenced when he uttered, “Fuck me” and then scrubbed his hand over his mouth while devouring my entire body with his hungry eyes.
“Your hair, Tashy. That dress. You look … incredible.”
Warmth flamed my cheeks and I wanted to look away. The sincerity streaming from his fixated eyes was undeniable and it made me feel a little insecure, but at the same time, on top of the world.
It made me feel special, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Thanks,” I said, sheepishly tucking my hair behind my ear. “You don’t look so shabby yourself.”
He didn’t divert the roaming of his eyes as they took me in, and it was as if he were mentally undressing me, right there, in the middle of the Atrium.
The memory of his lips on my neck and his hand inside my blouse flashed across my mind, and my legs all but buckled beneath me. He’s so hot. It’s so hot. I’m so hot. The temperature in the room escalated, or more than likely the
temperature of my scolding body escalated, and I all of a sudden needed the reprieve of cool air, or a seat, or a cold fucking shower.
“I need head,” I blurted, flapping my hand in front of my face. “I mean headpiece. I mean I need a new headpiece. Mine is broken.” I tried ripping it from my head, but it got stuck behind my earrings. “Ffffff…. Ow!”
Dale laughed. “Hang on a second. Stop pulling. You’re making it worse.” He took a step closer and placed his hand on my back, pressing me into him and guiding my head to rest upon his shoulder. “Stay still.” Sure, fine by me. I’m almost positive I can’t move anyway.
His body was warm, soft, hard, and fragrant. And did I mention warm? I curled into him as if he were a plush blanket, his fingers gently combining my hair and loosening strands tangled around my headpiece until it fell clear. “There you go. You’re ready for new head.”
I bit back a laugh and waited a moment before stepping away from him. “Thanks. But maybe all I need is the head I already have to be fixed?”
“Perhaps. But that could take a while. Let me give you new head in the meantime. See what you think?”
I had no idea what head we were talking about, because the one on my shoulders was figuratively spinning out of control. He was either offering to go down on me, or simply suggesting a new communicative device to replace my broken one. Both options were feasible, given his recent change of character.
“I … er … um …” I stuttered, pressing my fingers into my temple and scrunching my eyes shut.
“Tash!”
Quickly snapping them open again and pivoting in the direction of where my name had been called out, I spotted Dylan making his way down the stairs toward me.
“What’s up?” I asked, thanking my lucky stars for the timely interruption.
“Your headset is not responding and we need you in the ballroom. The MC’s notes are password protected and he can’t get them up on his prompt screen.”
“Right. Yes.” I spun back to face Dale. “I have to go, but could you please get me another headpiece as soon as possible? I really need it.”
Commitment Page 12