by Sarah Cole
“I really am sorry. I know this isn’t at all how you probably envisioned tonight playing out.” Verity says from beside me as the movie credits roll.
“You’re right. It turned out better.” I admit, and I truly mean it. She gives me a questioning look before another coughing fit, renders her speechless for the next few seconds.
“How can this be better than a real date?” she asks motioning to herself and her apartment. I look around at the simple, stylishly decorated space. It is mainly done in black and white with pops of brass and hints of jewel tones here and there.
I take another look at her uncertain face before answering. “Because it was real. Nothing fake or fancy. No overly done makeup or pushup bras for you, no uncomfortable suits or awkward small talk for me. This was comfortable, and we actually talked. Not just the basic first date crap, but actually talked. I got to see you at your worst, and I know I still really like you.”
“Well, you haven’t seen all my crazy yet. I can’t guarantee you’re going to like it.” she jokes, but I see it. I see her slow acceptance that we might have a shot at something real together.
“I’d like to find out.” I say, standing to take our empty bowls to load the dishwasher.
“Me too.” She says, and she begins to stand, but I stop her.
“Just park your fine ass there on the couch of the gods, and let me clean up.” I scoop up the last of the dishes.
“Thank you, Hunter. The soup and sandwiches were great. You’re great – just, thank you.”
I shoot her a wink, “Anytime sweetheart.” I finish loading up the dishwasher and realize it’s time for her next dose of cold and flu medicine. Grabbing the pills off the counter, I grab a bottle of Gatorade and make my way back over to where she’s sitting.
“Here. Take these.” I hand her the pills, and she smiles gratefully as I unscrew the bottle for her.
“I’m going to take off for tonight. You need your rest, but I want you to call me when you wake up. If you need anything, just let me know. I only live like six blocks from here.” I hand her the drink, and once she’s settled back into the couch, I lean down and kiss her on her cheek. Feeling her face pull into a smile beneath my lips makes my day.
“I’ll see you soon, pretty girl. Feel better, and don’t forget to call me tomorrow.” I point at her in warning, and she nods as I walk to the door, grabbing my things along the way.
“Don’t forget to lock up.” I call as I open the door.
“Won’t matter anyways. Tanner always finds a way to break in.” She calls after me, her voice hoarse with sickness. I’m going to have to remember to have a talk with Tanner about walking in on my girl.
chapter 10
LESSON #10: It’s best not to get too comfortable with the girl that does your bikini waxing. (You’ll understand soon enough.)
VERITY:
Hunter and I have been texting and calling each other pretty much all week. We have yet to go out again since he has been working long shifts, but I just got a text from him.
Officer Sexy: Tonight. 7PM. Wear something pretty so I can see those legs of yours. I’ll pick you up. XO
Normally I’d be irritated at the presumptuous nature of the text, but for whatever reason, I find myself smiling instead. And now it’s panic time because I want to impress this guy, and the last four times we’ve been together, I’ve been less than one hundred percent.
I need to buff it, wax it, tuck it, primp it, curl it, plump it, and everything in between. If I was really smart, and for arguments sake, let’s just say I am, I would go for homeless chic tonight on our date. If he still wants to take me out, then he’s a real keeper. But I guess I’m not smart because there’s no way in hell that I’m going out on a “first” date dressed like a slob. I’m positive it goes against everything in my DNA. Instead, I sit here having heart palpitations over what I’m going to do – because there’s so much to do. The only person that can help me out of this date disaster right now is Tally. Except she’s gone MIA on me. Seriously, she disappeared. I need to microchip her.
I search everywhere for Tally-nothing. According to people in every room I check, I keep missing her, and she left her phone on her desk. We now have what constitutes as an emergency. I’m at Defcon five over here. My date preparedness is virtually non-existent with my panty hamster not having had a good grooming in an embarrassingly long time, and my eyebrows. Let’s not get started on the eyebrows or the lack of sunless tanner. I’m not Instagram filter ready, let alone smokin’ hot date ready, and I can’t find my best friend anywhere. I stalk back down the hallway, nearly ready to go make appointments alone, but I head into the ladies’ room at the last second. The only place I didn’t check.
“Tally?” I call out.
I hear a muffled noise from the last stall. “Tals? Is that you?” I repeat, but no answer. I get down on my knees to peer under the low stall door. I know, I know, but there isn’t any other way. Sure, enough I see her nude, Valentino Rockstud pumps from under the door.
“I can see your shoes. I know it’s you.” I say, smooshing my face to the floor. Again, it’s the only way, and I have full faith in Steve’s janitorial prowess.
“Christ, Verity.” Tally hisses. “Can’t a girl bake a biscuit in peace?” Her and her British terms.
“Eww.”
“You know what almond milk lattes do to me.” she replies.
“Ok, gross. But I have an emergency!”
“Like an actual emergency, or is it like the time you accidentally stole underwear from Agent Provocateur and were panicking on whether or not you should go back and pay?”
“I didn’t want to get in trouble, but it really was an accident.” My voice gets high pitched, just like it always does when I get defensive over something. I’m just getting ready to launch myself back into my whole overpriced underwear debate, but Tally stops me, thank goodness.
“Verity. Focus.” She demands, and I hear the faint kerplunk of her ‘biscuit.’
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know. Maybe somewhere in between?” I’m unsure. To me, it seems like an emergency, but stealing a two-hundred-dollar pair of panties was pretty much a low point in my life.
“What’s going on?” she prods, trying to keep me on track.
“I have a date tonight with Hunter, and it might be the night you know? And the prairie needs burned if you know what I mean. Then there’s the rest of me. Help me. Help me!” I beg and plead like a toddler in a candy store, until I hear the toilet flush and the latch on the door unlocks revealing Tally with a concerned look. She checks her watch.
“What time is your date?” she asks.
“Seven.”
“Well, shit. It’s nearly one now, but I think I know a place that can squeeze us in. I also have some sample dresses you can look at.” She washes her hands with all the vigor and purpose of a surgeon at a scrub sink.
“What about the Feminazi?”
“What about her? I saw her leave for the airport. She has some meetings at the LA offices.” Tally replies with a spark in her eyes that clearly means business.
“Let’s do this!” I say, and although my best friend and I make an awesome makeover team, I’m not so confident in our abilities to pull off a teenage movie worthy makeover in under six hours.
***
We Uber up outside a dark building that looks abandoned, but in a second story window there’s a neon pink flashing sign that says ‘spa’ in big letters. I’m not so sure about this. If it wasn’t for what happened with the at home drug store kit last time, and the rash that almost ended me, I wouldn’t be here. Sub-par professionals are better than my bathroom floor, a makeup mirror, and microwave wax can and Popsicle stick, right? Right?! I feel like I am in need of more reassurance as Tally pulls my reluctant body from the purple Prius that drove us here.
“Relax. Remember when I told you where I got my brows threaded because you ‘thought they were so bomb?’” she air quotes me, and it is only now I r
ealize I need to brush up on my slang because I must sound like a walking YouTube makeup tutorial. I just nod my head because I remember. Those brows were bangin’. OK, I must stop. Someone stop me. I cannot be trusted with the words.
“Well, this is where that magic happened, but they are a full-service salon and spa. Gigi featured them in that Vlog she did on hidden gems in the city.”
“I’m trusting you with this. If I walk away from this with another rash and a wonky eyebrow, I won’t go to the cosplay conventions anymore.” I warn. That has to be one of her – our biggest secrets. Tally loves cosplay, and it’s kind of grown on me too. Actually, I’m not entirely sure if it’s the cosplay Tally loves so much, or the men that go to those conventions. My bestie has a huge soft spot for nerds, and you’d think that’d work in her favor. Little do most people know, but nerds and geeks are a super exclusive group and can be a bit petty and judgy - at least, in the circles we’ve encountered. So, because she works in women’s fashion, people automatically assume that she’s shallow and not as intelligent. Preconceived notions are a brutal bitch.
She looks at me like I killed her puppy. Mind you, she doesn’t have puppy, but if she did, that’s the look she’s giving me. “But you’re the only person that could possibly be the Flounder to my Ariel next time.”
And there we have it folks. The only reason she puts up with me and keeps me around is because she needs me to dress up as giant version of a fat, yellow and blue fish.
“Yeah, about that. We still need to evaluate what the next costumes are going to be. Possibly something a little more kick ass? Hmm?” I say as we climb the stairs to the second floor “spa.”
“As long as we don’t rule it out. I have a really great red wig.” She tells me as we step into an open and airy spa. It is done in a muted color palette of whites and creams with brushed metal accents. Not at all what I was expecting.
“See? Told you so.” Tally says, clearly reading my mind again. It’s sorcery, I say.
“Ahh, you’re Tally? Yes?” a small Asian woman, with a kind face greets us from behind the front desk.
Tally greets the woman in her native Korean language, and signs us both in. See? This is what I mean, Tally speaks 4 languages fluently. She’s kind of perfect, and it kind of makes me a little bit sick. Tally continues to speak for a moment before they both look at me, and the lady’s eyes light up and they share a laugh. Then she motions to me – all of me, and suddenly I’m feeling a wee bit self-conscious as I cross my arms over my chiffon blouse and shift nervously from heel to heel.
“I was just telling her about your date and that you need the works, but they’re giving us a discount to spread the word. Well, that, and because you’re getting like ten treatments.”
I smile and thank her, because I don’t care how uncomfortable this is going to be. I’m a girl who likes a good deal. She leads me first to a small room with a padded table on it, much like a massage table. The soft music and subtle lighting almost gives the illusion of a relaxing atmosphere, but it’s a lie. A big, fat lie. This is the place where your dignity goes to die.
“Take off clothes from waist down and lay on table.” The sweet woman, who I’ve come to know as Jang-Li, motions to the white padded surface. Normally now is when they leave you to get undressed, but not Jang-Li. I figure she’s about to see all the goods anyways, so I drop my trousers and pull off my panties. The non-stolen ones, just for the record. I shimmy my tush up on that paper covered table, and I see the change. Jang-Li’s warm brown eyes take on a steely resolution and suddenly this becomes like a dark domination and pain play fantasy I once had, as she unravels some leather leg stirrups from the overhead ceiling beam. Only this time it’s not a fantasy but a nightmare starring a petite Korean lady.
“I can’t do that.” I point to the straps, but she just nods enthusiastically. I think she thinks I’m just shy, and I mean I should be, but at this point my pride has already flown the coop with all the shit I’ve done in the name of beauty. But that’s not what this is… I honestly don’t think my legs will do that. I’m not the most flexible of females. Sorry Hunter.
“No, Jang-Li. I really caa-aan-n’t do that!” I point to the straps and swing my legs up to demonstrate that I can’t reach that far, realizing that I just cracked that bearded clam wide open. I shut my legs quickly.
She looks disappointed but just shrugs it away nonchalantly, “Ok.” Well, damn. I was kind of hoping for more of a fight than that. Come on Jang-Li.
“Open.” Her determination is back as she takes my knees and spreads my legs open. Now all I can see is this sweet little woman dressed in black studded patent leather wielding a cat-o-nine, and the laughter cannot be tamed.
“Shhh. Stop moving. Concentrate!” she orders in her clipped accent, and I have to bite my lip and breathe heavily through my nose to relax. Being nervous only makes it that much more difficult to calm myself. I feel her prepping my area, and that seems to work in helping me along the path of seriousness. I close my eyes, and hold and spread my legs as she instructed.
Feeling the warm wax being spread along my lady lips, my heart rate kicks up a few notches, then another few as she smooths down the wax strips. I swear I can hear her snicker under her breath. And…rip! Holy mother of- hey, that wasn’t too bad. I calm a little bit, realizing I may have over reacted just a bit. Jang-Li continues to work, spreading the wax and patting the strips into place until it happens. The mother of all motherfucking moments. The moment when my sweet vagina dies.
She pats the strip one last time, “Hold tight. It a lot!” she gives me a pointed look, and I feel a bit embarrassed that I let it get that untamed. All of a sudden, my world stops as…RIP!!!
“HOLY MOTHER OF MARACAS!!!!!” I scream like a bottle rocket that’s been lit on fire. My body tries to flee the scene of the crime launching itself forward. My legs snap shut, and my right hand comes forward to cup and shield what is left of my femininity. It happens quickly but Jang-Li’s reaction is much slower. Her horrified eyes widen, her lips part and its almost a manly, alien, “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” that is drawn from somewhere deep within her.
I try to feel around and make sure the team’s all there, but then I realize why she’s just staring at me with disappointed confusion and a slack jaw. My fingers are stuck, and well, the rest of me is too. Oh, shit.
“Oh, shit.” Jang-Li exclaims lamely, echoing my internal thoughts. I look at her, beginning to panic a little.
“Ummmm. Help?”
“I said, sit still, but no. No one ever listens to Jang-Li.” She begins muttering to herself as she pulls inch after inch of rolled cotton from a container. She begins to reach for the bottle of blue soothing oil, but must think better of that since she goes to the closet across the room and pulls out a gallon sized bottle of the stuff with a pump spout. As if I didn’t think things could get more horrifying, she just takes the bottle and begins pumping it aggressively all over my hand and bits. She rubs a little dislodging my fingers and hands me a wipe to clean my slippery fingers.
I sneak a glance down at ground zero and cringe. It’s half naked mole rat and half Chewbacca. Good thing Verity Peterson is not a quitter! Although, I should probably quit talking about myself in third person.
“Lay down. I need to get a better angle.” Jang-Li says, helping me back, but I swear that’s when she begins cussing me out in Korean as she shakes her head. She begins patting and gently rubbing trying to break down the wax, but after a few minutes, things start to happen. And by happen, I mean tingle, and I try…I try to fight it. I know this is wrong, but the body wants what the body wants, ya know? I feel my breathing start to pick up as I try to fight the feelings… all the feelings.
Jang-Li glances up and our eyes meet, and… and it’s awful. Her face changes as the horrifying realization of what is going on washes over her and she jumps back, purple latex hands up, as if my va-jay-jay burned her.
“Oh! Oh, no! It not that kind of place, missy!” she scolds, and I
feel my face heat in embarrassment. Shame. That is what I’m feeling right now. I almost just had a happy ending during a Brazilian waxing mishap. I’m going to go bury myself alive in self-pity now. Jang-Li leaves the room, only to come back a few minutes later with her unhappy looking doppelganger, Seong-Ja. Doppelganger body guard stands in the corner with a disapproving look, boring holes into my exposed flesh.
I grit my teeth and bear the last few painful minutes of the wax as Jang-Li gives it her all with little to no finesse. I’m guessing she was worried that her gentle touch would send me over the bliss cliff. My humiliation did just fine in stomping out the fires of desire in my love jungle.
Three hours later, I’m waxed, scrubbed, plucked, threaded, moisturized, manicured, and just shy of one nightmarish sexual experience when I find Tally waiting for me in the sitting area. Her brows look bomb. Shit, good. Her brows look good, and her gel manicure is a matte black. I’m kind of jealous that I chose to opt for a nude color instead. When she sees me, she stands checking her watch and has a brief conversation with Jang-Li, she grabs my hand tugging me out the door. I steal one last look over my shoulder at the little she-devil that has spent the past several hours defiling my body and making me beautiful. She winks at me, and I feel the heat rise in my face. Yeah, we definitely had a connection. She’s my new go to esthetician.
chapter 11
LESSON #11: GIVE A GUY A CHANCE. hE MIGHT SURPRISE YOU.
VERITY:
I smooth down the long sleeved cashmere wrap dress and pull on my last heeled over the knee boot. I decided on something from my own closet because everything Tally made me model was way too flashy and reeked of desperation. But with her styling help, we managed to pull together something that was sexy, yet appropriate for anywhere we might go. There’s a knock at the door and I hurry to answer it. When I open the door, I find Hunter standing there in a pair of black dress pants and a shirt and matching jacket. The shirt is open at the neck, giving me a delicious peek at his smooth chest.