‘There you go. Javier told me to keep it light, not to hinder your natural beauty, so I just added this pale pink gloss and put some neutral colors on your lids to enhance the green of your eyes. Are you ready to look at yourself?’
The makeup artist was chirping at Bridget in a friendly voice. A bunch of makeup brushes and palettes were discarded on a nearby tray stand. Am I ready? Will I like what I see? What is all this talk about natural beauty? They must expect huge, massive tips. I’m not beautiful. Richard always told me…
And then Javier, beaming at her, his dimples evident again, swung her chair around so that she could see herself in the mirror. Bridget gasped, and her eyes widened. Screw Richard. I am beautiful. I really am.
The woman staring back at her had a high forehead, vibrant green eyes, and a haircut that flattered all of her features. It fell straight to her chin on either side, accentuating her high cheekbones, and in the reflection from the mirror held by a brown hand behind her, she could see that the back was short, gradually becoming longer and angled as it went around to her front. Lighter strands mixed with the normal dark brown. The woman’s lips were naturally pouty, simply a darker shade of pink.
That’s me. I am stunning.
Bridget felt daintier. Her entire body felt lighter, not just her head. She felt as though so many cares, worries, and insecurities had fallen to the floor at her feet with her plain brown tresses.
She was going to knock her online beau off his feet tonight, and she had one man to thank for it all. One very fine man. It’s a shame he’s gay. I wouldn’t mind trying my new look out on him.
Javier removed the cape from around Miss Langston’s luscious body with a flourish and felt a flutter in his belly as she turned and emitted joy and newfound confidence his way. Mission accomplished. Now she sees it. She sees herself. A gorgeous woman inside and out.
‘I don’t know how to thank you.’ Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
He reached out to touch her one last time. She placed her hand in his, and he helped her rise from the chair. ‘I did nothing. I only made you see yourself for who you really are. You have the looks. I only cut the hair. Who you are out here,’ he used his free hand to gesture to her body, allowing his eyes to rove over her curves subtly, ‘now reflects who you are in there.’ He gently poked her chest above her breast, fighting the desire to lower his hand.
‘B-but you don’t know me.’ Confusion showed in her face, but her hand didn’t leave his, and he didn’t pull away.
‘I know enough. Deborah has told me a little, but I see you in here every month, and I hear you chatter. You women talk a lot while you get your haircuts.’ He smiled to soften the words. ‘Your man didn’t deserve you. He didn’t know what he had.’
A lovely blush spread across her face. ‘I wasn’t aware you had noticed me.’
‘Oh, I noticed,’ Javier promised. ‘I noticed, and some man is going to be lucky to be with you tonight, yes?’
She giggled. ‘Oh, get on with you.’ She waved her free hand playfully, and he reluctantly let her other one go. She promptly began to dig in her purse. He reached out and touched her elbow. I get to touch her once again.
‘No, on the house.’
‘What?’ She stared at him, an expression of shock on her face.
‘Seeing you like this is payment enough.’ And it was. Though the money was going to have to come from his personal funds, it was worth every penny. ‘But don’t expect Deborah to do the same.’ He chuckled.
Bridget took one last look at herself in the rear view mirror. Her hair still looked great. She hadn’t even needed to use the wax that Javier had slipped into her palm on the way out the door. She’d picked up some lip gloss though and had touched that up.
Her car alarm beeped on behind her as she walked up the walkway to the restaurant entrance. Her heartbeat quickened its pace, beating in time with the click of her high heels, and her palms began to sweat where they clutched her purse. She struggled to keep her insecurities at bay. Thoughts of Javier and his words came to mind as she pushed open the heavy wood door. Who you are out here now reflects who you are in there. Beautiful.
‘Seating for one, ma’am?’ A hostess was frowning at her slightly. Bridget was proud to say the words, ‘No, I’m meeting someone.’ When was the last time she had met a man for dinner?
The hostess smiled in understanding. ‘Shall you wait here or at the bar?’
Bridget ran through the instructions in her mind. Meet me at the bar at seven. I’ll have a red carnation pinned to my jacket. Her plan was to make sure that he appeared normal. Normal as in not a felon covered in gaol-gotten tattoos, no beard down to his crotch, no evil glint in his eye, and not over the age of sixty. DS789 was his online screen name, and he had told her he was thirty-five years of age, divorced, no kids, and was an artist. His name was Diego. If he was who he said he was, she hoped—though didn’t require it, because looks don’t make the man, she knew that very well—that he was half as good looking as Javier in the salon. She wouldn’t be intimidated now if he was handsome. Not now or ever again.
From their talks, she knew he was a wonderful person.
She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and told the waiting hostess, ‘I’m going to the bar.’ Her colourful skirt swished around her calves as she headed to the designated drinking area. The feeling made her imagine a man’s hands touching her legs, and she smiled. With the way I look, he may want to touch my legs and other things…but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If there’s anything even slightly Richard-like about him…
Upon reaching the bar, filled with laughing patrons and blaring sportscasters on the television sets, she searched for him, the man she was already half in love with just from his emails and instant messages. They had agreed not to exchange photos, to get to know each other for who they were and not focus on what they looked like.
Her eyes skimmed over the stools. Bald man, fifty-ish, with his arm around a woman his own age. Nope. Young guy, baseball cap, dirty tennis shoes. Is he even old enough to drink? Nope. Dark suit jacket, wavy black hair with no signs of grey in it, and a red carnation it looked like… Yep. Here goes…
She tried not to shake with nervousness as she reached the man she believed to be Diego and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. She held her breath as the man turned around, white teeth flashing, dimple showing, and she gasped.
‘I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.’
Javier’s eyes widened as he stared at the mirage in front of him. It had to be a hallucination. How many drinks had he had? He’d just been thinking about her, Miss Langston, and here she was…but what to do when his date showed up? He cleared his throat and gave her his full attention. ‘Who did you think I was?’
‘Diego.’ Miss Langston dropped her hand from his shoulder. ‘I’m m-meeting a man here n-named D-diego. The c-carnation,’ she stammered and gestured to his lapel.
Javier felt a rush of warmth, joy, and worry all at once. He gestured to the empty stool next to him and waited for her to sit. ‘I’m Diego,’ he said.
Her hand flew to her breast. ‘What?’
He rushed to appease her. ‘Javier is my middle name. The women at the salon insist it sounds sexier, so they’ve always called me that. That’s my work persona.’ He watched her facial expressions as he raised a hand to summon the bartender. Her face went from shock and anger to confusion and embarrassment. He felt bad.
‘I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know you were that Bridget. There are lots of Bridgets out there. And lots of women with bad exes, no offence—it doesn’t make it acceptable—the man’s behaviour,’ he stammered and winced. That hadn’t come out right.
Her expression became icy. ‘Would it have made a difference? ‘Cause I can go.’ She rose from the stool, clutching her purse.
Diego reached out a hand to stop her. ‘No. Absolutely not. Please stay with me. You’re a lovely woman, and I feel we know each other very well. I didn�
��t lie to you. You didn’t lie to me. Perhaps all this time we were right under each other’s noses and too blind and dumb to see it, so let’s see where this goes.’
She hesitated but sat down again. ‘You said you were an artist.’ Her tone was accusatory, but not angry.
Diego nodded. ‘I am. I do hair to pay the rent on my studio. I didn’t lie about that either. Besides,’ he laughed, ‘hair styling is an art too.’
She smiled back at him, and he felt a rush of blood head south. She was still wearing that lip gloss. ‘True. That was evident today.’
Diego ordered her a drink and reached out to put his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t move away. ‘I’m pleased. I’m pleased that it’s you.’
‘You are?’ Her voice sounded shaky, surprised.
‘I am,’ he said firmly. ‘I—I’ve always thought you were something. I have wanted to get my hands on you for a long time—in a good way.’ He faltered. Oh no. I’ve just blown it.
To his surprise, she laughed. ‘I thought you were gay.’
He pretended to be outraged. ‘Me?’
‘You do hair.’
‘Just one of my many skills. My mother taught me. I had four younger sisters, you know, and when my mama had to work two jobs, it was up to me to get my sisters ready for school and all, and when I needed a job to support my art, that’s what popped up. I’d been to barber school so what the hell. I’m not ashamed.’ Afraid he had been too forceful with his words, he cleared his throat and added in a playful tone, ‘You shouldn’t stereotype. You know what they say about ASS-U-ME.’
A wry smile curled up the corners of her lips, and a blush tinted her cheeks. ‘I love that about you,’ she finally murmured.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, curious, pulling her closer to his body. She smelled so good, looked so good. He wanted to taste her…and he couldn’t help but enjoy the view. She had chosen a top that showed some cleavage.
‘You’re comfortable with yourself and your masculinity.’ The bartender placed a drink in front of her, and Bridget paused. ‘You don’t act like most men, threatening and intimidating and macho.’
‘And I never will,’ he promised.
‘And that’s why this will work.’ She turned and spoke to him breathlessly, her green eyes shining, her lips just an inch from his. ‘Us,’ she added.
He couldn’t resist. He kissed her, and it rocked his world. Damn right, it was going to work. It was already working.
His kiss swept her off her feet. She felt as though she was melting right there in his arms. Bridget had to grasp his shoulders to prevent herself from sliding off the stool. His lips were warm and tasted of beer. When he pulled away, and the cool air of the bar replaced his touch, she felt a pang of displeasure, but if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, there was more to come…later.
‘A table is ready for you two. A waitress’s voice intruded on her thoughts and broke apart the heated gaze she was sharing with Javier—Diego. Her date was all she’d dreamed of and more. She couldn’t believe her good fortune, nor could she believe the way she felt as he reached out his hand to her, offering to escort her to their table.
As they followed the waitress, she savoured the approving glances cast their way from other patrons. Diego was pleasing to look at, and a lot of women smiled with speculative gleams, but she was nice to look at too, and many of the men glanced at her admiringly. The feel of Diego’s hand at the small of her back told her that he, too, liked what he was seeing and wanted the world to know they were together.
A chair was pulled out for her, and she sat. Diego sat across from her. A commotion at a nearby table diverted their attention from the menus that were being handed to them. A woman was loudly scolding her male companion. Her words carried over to their table, causing Bridget to blush. ‘Quit checking out other women, you oaf!’ As just a moment before she had caught the berated man looking at her intently, there was no doubt in Bridget’s mind what “women” he’d been checking out.
A warm glow started in the pit of her belly and worked its way towards the rest of her body. Diego reached his hand across the table and grasped hers. She looked into his eyes, fully aware that love and hope were shining in the depths of her own because that’s what she was feeling…among other things, and she wasn’t ashamed of it.
And there, in the warm, chocolate brown eyes staring back at her, she saw the same.
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ISBN: 9780857990815
Title: Style Me Sexy
Copyright © 2013 by Tara Chevrestt
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text m
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Style Me Sexy (novella) Page 2