by Brynn North
I shuddered at the thought of the embarrassing headline Boston put above my article. Why did I tell him he could name it whatever he wanted to when I knew how much fun he had with my last name over the years? Besides Kitty Kat, he had also come up with many others, one I hated the worst being ‘Ms. Love’ but said in an announcer’s voice like ‘Ms. America’. I had five more articles to write under that series name, and each one was bound to be more humiliating than the last. Only the thought of the badly needed checks hitting my bank account kept me from wanting to quit right then and there.
“Well,” I said, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my notes as the waitress put down our food in front of us. “So far, besides the one I already wrote, I have a makeover, hobbies, gym, and finances. No idea what my last article will be about.”
“You just got your hair done, though,” Vi pointed out, pouring what I considered to be an obscene amount of ketchup on her hashbrowns. I wrinkled my nose as she applied a liberal amount of salt on top of it. So much for sneaking a bite off her plate.
“Yeah, but what about clothes? I haven’t really updated my style in, oh, probably never. I’ve been shopping at the same stores, buying the same type of things for the last ten years. And I don’t even know how to begin to navigate the aisles of Sephora.”
She cast a doubtful eye on me. “But you’re doing a makeover for you, right? Not for him?”
I fumbled a bit at the question. Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have bothered if I was still with Shane. But then again, no wonder he thought he could trade me in for a younger, more fertile model.
“Well, yeah,” I finally said. “I don’t want to enter my thirties looking like I just graduated high school.”
“If you’re positive, then…” she trailed off.
“I am,” I said firmly.
“Then we’ll head to the mall after this. Get you an appointment at the makeup counter and try on some new outfits. At the very least, you’ll feel good about yourself and have something to write about for the next article. Oh, and here - let me take a picture of you with that mimosa glass. With the city buildings behind us, it’ll look great on your Insta.”
As I posed with my glass in front of me, I felt a little down. Shane sure as hell didn’t try to change anything to keep our relationship fresh for me. Where was his dedication to becoming a better, more well-rounded person? I gave my head a little shake. Worrying wouldn’t get me anywhere. Reinventing myself would, and that meant reinventing my attitude.
“Cheers to the future,” I said instead, clinking my glass with an invisible person wearing my sassiest grin.
15
I trailed Vi through the doors of her favorite department store.
“You really sure about this?” she called out from behind her.
I thought of my wallet and grumbled to myself. This wasn’t going to be cheap, I could just feel it. The fancy displays and items in the window were a sure sign of that. And if I had any doubts about the affordability of this, the cute pair of boots I picked up to take a closer look at on my way to the makeup counter - whose price tag made me gasp and put down immediately like they were on fire - drove it home.
But then again, I reminded myself, as Henry Ford put it: If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you always got.
And the one thing I did not have right now was Shane.
“I’m sure. Or at least fairly sure,” I said as we arrived at the makeup chair, mostly to myself since Vi was already air-kissing who I could only assume to be the makeup artist she raved about.
I gulped and suddenly wished my mom had taught me more about makeup when I was a teenager. The Asian man in front of me was styled impeccably, and his hair looked like he had left the salon about five minutes ago. Around his waist was an entire tool belt full of makeup brushes, far more than I even knew existed. He was going to have to work some crazy magic if he thought he could transform me into something that was even vaguely on his and Vi’s level. Already, the panic was creeping in, which only intensified when he started circling me, eying me up and down. Was I that much of a challenge for this expert?
“So, Cai, what do you think?” Vi’s sing-song voice sounded like she was presenting him with a baby to examine and exclaim over. Then again, maybe she was.
He nodded slowly as he gathered his thoughts. Then, this time with a firm snap of his head, he nodded again. “Let’s get to work.”
For the next hour, Cai pulled out tube after tube and painted my face. Slowly, I relaxed. Turns out Cai wasn’t that intimidating, just incredibly passionate about his job. Being in his chair seemed almost therapeutic, and I began to open up to him while Vi went browsing the sale racks.
“He put you out to pasture to get himself a broodmare? No!” He shook his head sadly.
“That’s not exactly what happened,” I argued, even as I wondered why I was still defending Shane and his actions. Put in Cai’s words, they were pretty bad. But still. It felt damn good to tell someone besides Vi why Shane dumped me and get some objective thoughts on it.
Cai seemed to agree with my internal thoughts. “Honey,” he said, putting one hand on his hips, and pointing at me with a large, fluffy makeup brush with the other, “You’re letting this guy treat you like an option. Like he can just open some app, click on all the qualities he wants in a woman, hit ‘purchase’, and she’ll get dropped off at his door like a bag full of UberEats. That’s the problem with this world.” He shook his head and started tapping the brush into a white powder as he spoke. “Too many options. People act like they can find a soulmate the same way they order off a menu, not recognizing they need to be happy with what they got in the fridge and creating a meal out of it.”
“Are you comparing my relationship to the contents of a refrigerator?” I accused, even though I was a little amused at the analogy.
He shrugged noncommittally. “Seems like you aren’t happy with what’s in the fridge, either, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, trying to change yourself.”
Before I could retort back, Vi arrived, holding three shopping bags, her face flushed with pleasure. “Just wait till you see the new cashmere skull sweater I got on sale,” she started to crow when Cai cut her off.
“Vienna, that can wait. Now is the time to look at your friend.” Cai turned my chair toward her with a flourish.
“Whoa,” was all Vi said, skull sweater forgotten.
I sat there, sweating under the makeup. What did Cai do to me? I began to get pissed. I told him I wanted nothing with major upkeep. No blue eyeshadow and contouring for me, damn it. I shouldn’t have trusted him.
I snatched a hand mirror off the counter, ready to wipe off all this face paint he had plied me with and get back to my normal self, but stopped short once I saw the reflection.
“Whoa,” I echoed Vi.
No wonder she forgot about her new sweater. I looked, well, fantastic.
Cai somehow had kept his promise. Instead of the heavy makeup I had feared, I looked like me, only a little more polished. My eyebrows were smoothed out and my cheekbones subtly highlighted. My eyes were lined, and my lashes were long. But unless someone looked closely, they wouldn’t think I was wearing any makeup at all.
“I love it,” I squealed, throwing my arms around a shocked Cai. “You made me into a real-life Instagram filter!”
He laughed, disentangling himself from my arms. “Thank me by showing off to that ex of yours.”
Later that night, as Vi and I sat down in front of Netflix with take-out Indian, I asked her what she really thought of my look. She had been awfully quiet as she watched me purchase all the makeup Cai suggested, though she offered to take pictures of my fresh look for Instagram. I had happily posed for several pictures before picking the best one.
“Think the three hundred bucks in makeup was worth it?”
“If it makes you happy.” She didn’t quite look me in the eye.
“What do you mean by that?”
/> She sighed and put down her naan bread. “I love the look, don’t get me wrong. I just wish the confidence came from inside you, for you, not for Shane.”
“But getting Shane back is for me,” I argued back.
“If you say so,” she said mildly, reaching for her naan bread again.
“It is!” I insisted. “Getting Shane back will make me happy. And look!” I flashed the phone in front of her. “Shane liked my pictures from the waterfall this morning!”
She reached for the phone. “That’s good, let me see.”
She scrolled through the eight likes and three comments. “Wait, Boston is following you?”
“Well, yeah.” I rolled my eyes a bit. I noticed the follow myself, just yesterday. “For the article, I assume.”
“He made one of the comments,” she pointed out. “Even Shane didn’t do that.”
My face went a bit pink at the thought of Boston’s earlier comment about how I was ‘lookin’ good’.
“That means nothing. He knows I want to get Shane back, he probably is trying to make him jealous or something. And Shane’s probably busy packing to move halfway across the world.” I doubted Shane even noticed the innocuous comment.
She handed me my phone back with a little smirk.
“What?” I demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She just smirked again and reached for the last piece of garlic naan, leaving me to wonder what she wouldn’t tell me. And without my favorite kind of naan.
16
“Well, look at Ms. Fancy Pants Kitty Kat, lookin’ all nice over there.”
I didn’t even need to turn around to know who was speaking. Boston. Damn it. Of all places to run into him, did it really have to be on a Saturday morning, when I was wearing my pajama pants in the cereal aisle at Target? At least this pair didn’t have holes in the crotch and were my best black ones, which I had hoped made me look like I was just coming from the gym, not rolling out of bed. Guess that didn’t work.
Instead of answering him, I held up my phone, tapping on it as I pretended to dial it.
“Hello, HR department?” I said into my hand. “I have to report a creeper at work.”
I could almost hear Boston smirk behind me. “We’re not at work, and I was only being nice.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked, still not making eye contact as I reached for my usual box of cereal.
“Seriously? You eat that shit? That’s got to be the most boring cereal in mankind.” He reached around me for the box I just put in my cart and pulled it out. He was close enough that I could feel his presence. “Seven whole grains, sprouted this, organic that...I’d rather eat the box itself. More flavor.”
“Oh, yeah?” I snatched it back, finally facing him. Wow. I didn’t know sweatpants could look so good on someone. “Tell me exactly what an eligible bachelor eats for breakfast then. Lucky Charms? Weren’t they your favorite back in high school?”
He grinned, and to my discomfort, I noticed he had a seriously sexy smile when he wanted to be funny. Ugh. Why were all irritating men good looking? Seemed like some kind of unwritten rule that the better looking the man was, the more he knew it, and the more he took full advantage of it.
“Guilty as charged,” he responded to my teasing by holding up a box of the aforementioned cereal. He leaned closer than what was strictly necessary and said in a conspiratorial tone, “But don’t worry, I hide it behind the plates and bowls. I don’t let anyone actually see I have it. My mom would never let it go. I’d be hearing about how my immaturity keeps me single for the rest of my days. Not to mention the sugar content in it would make her do the office walk of shame if her colleagues knew her grown son eats this stuff.”
I started giggling. Boston and Vi’s mom would go off on her kids like that. That lady could go on for ages about gum decay. She was a leading dental surgeon, so I knew he had heard more than his fill of lectures on sugar growing up. I got them too.
“Is your mom still the awful house on Halloween who hands out toothbrushes instead of candy?”
He shook his head sadly. “Mom will never learn, will she? Trying to save the adolescents of Minneapolis, one trick or treat bag at a time.”
My laugh only seemed to encourage him because he leaned even closer, putting his hands on my cart, and looked at me dead in the eye. “But, please, don’t worry about this poor, sad, single man. I brush twice a day. Gotta make my mom proud somehow since I didn’t go to med school. This is the only way I can think of.”
I started laughing for real now, and for what seemed like the first time in weeks, I felt like myself. Not Shane’s ex-girlfriend, not Vi’s project, but Katrina. Or, more accurately, Kat. Even though I couldn’t believe that at the time, I didn’t realize I was giving myself the horrific single girl nickname Kat Love, I rather enjoyed being known as Kat.
I continued to push my cart down the aisle. Boston continued to trail after me. “You sure make a man work hard. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re avoiding me since you're too ashamed to be seen with a man who eats children’s cereal for breakfast.”
I smiled despite myself. “I’m hungry. Need to buy my breakfast.” I tapped my cereal box. I really wasn’t in any hurry, I was just confused with Boston’s almost flirty tone, and thought it’d be easier to avoid it altogether.
He stepped in front of my cart. “No can do,” he said authoritatively. “I already told you, I can’t let you eat that stuff. And what’s this you were planning on adding to it?” He pointed at my carton of oat milk. “That’s just sad.”
His face really did look so sad that I burst out laughing again, and my mood lightened even more. “Oh, you think I should get myself something else? Maybe something with bright colors or sugary marshmallows? Do they still make Cookie Crisp?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I can’t trust you.” He came around the side of my cart and I involuntarily caught my breath. Why? I had no idea. “You’re going to have to come back with me, get a proper breakfast.”
I raised my eyebrow at him skeptically and he nodded solemnly. “It’s my duty. And I promise I can do better than Lucky Charms, and a hell of a lot better than brown pebbles coated with wet oats.”
I burst out laughing again. Damn, Boston had gotten funnier in the years since we had seen each other. I didn’t remember laughing this much in months. This was a record for me.
“Well, I guess if it’s your civic duty and all…” I trailed off.
“It is,” he promised.
Boston was right, he could do better than Lucky Charms.
“Boston, this is incredible!” I gasped at the table in front of me. He had insisted on pouring me a mimosa while he cooked, and when he finally called me over, the table was full of pastries, bacon strips, fruit, and a bottle of real champagne, not cheap Cava like I usually bought. Next to it was a platter of scrambled eggs, and even they were sprinkled with some kind of greenery. This was a far cry from the cereal or yogurt I usually grabbed in the morning.
“‘Hunger is the best sauce in the world’,” he called from where he was washing his hands in the sink.
Another Don Quixote quote? This guy was the only person I have ever met who had that book pretty much memorized. Besides myself, that is.
“This is beautiful. Your entire house is gorgeous,” I said, so I didn’t have to think about my confusion. And it was. His dining room held a reclaimed wood table with a large bouquet of lilies and opened up into his living room that showcased a high ceiling and a wall of glass windows. We were seated more casually at his kitchen island, which hosted a gas cooktop. The top and two sides were encased in light-colored granite, and white leather barstools complimented the look. Even the countertop had a round wood platter on top, which held a white vase full of fake greenery. If I ever had a kitchen of my own again, I’d want it just like this one.
“Yeah, well, the decorating isn’t my own,” he said casually, popping a gra
pe into his mouth. Even those were the fancy cotton candy type of grapes. A brief stab of jealousy went through me. What in the hell was that about?
“Oh really? Your girlfriend did an outstanding job then.” I matched his casual tone as I wondered about this mystery woman. I thought he was single! I cast an eye around, looking for pictures of him and a girl, or women’s shoes strewn about. Nothing. Just an impeccably decorated, clean house.
Boston watched me look around and grinned. “Dude, Vi decorated for me. Did you forget already your bestie is a designer? And that your bestie has a not-so-secret double life as my sister?”
Oh. Right. Now that I looked harder, his place was decorated in Vi’s style. Oops. I changed the subject before I made even more of a fool out of myself. So what if Vi decorated for him? And that I didn’t see any signs of a woman around. A guy like him probably just cleaned before each new one came over, anyway.
“So you’re getting fan mail, huh?” Boston cut into his eggs.
To give myself a few moments to figure out what to say, I took a bite of mine. Perfectly cooked and seasoned, damn it. I hoped I would find something wrong with him this morning. Shane never cooked for me. The most he ever did was occasionally pick up some bagels after a weekend run.
“Yeah, well, just a few comments,” I admitted. “Just saying what I wrote resonated with them, stuff like that.”
He looked at me intently, and I helped myself to more bacon so I could pretend not to notice.
“So lots of women need to change themselves, be more exciting for their men?” His tone was casual, but the question was loaded.
“No! That’s not what I wrote at all!” I exclaimed. I mean, it was, sorta. But it wasn’t supposed to be that obvious. “Just that you have to meet your partner halfway, be more flexible and compromise. Don’t you agree?”
He topped off my champagne glass and slid a cinnamon roll on my plate instead of answering. “Try these.”