Page 63 of Lost & Found

“Hey, I don’t cry all the time. I’m not crying right this moment. Now you twirl.” She moved back to the couch. “With the right heels, the right makeup. Stunning,” she murmured excitedly.

Twirling for them, I felt silly, but Marcel’s advice to embrace the experience rang in my ears, so I did. The asymmetrical hemline fluttered around me, caressing my skin, tickling it almost. The chiffon fabric billowed and swayed, making me feel like the carefree girl I once was.

I came to a stop and caught sight of myself in the mirror. The dress had an A-line silhouette that draped gracefully over my frame, skimming my curves and showing my figure off. The V-neck was somewhat plunging, but the sun-kissed color of my skin added a touch of intrigue.

A sash cinched the dress in at the waist, accentuating my hourglass figure. I loved the way the light caught the shimmering metallic hues in it.

“You think this will work?” I asked, turning to the two most important people in my life.

A resounding yes echoed along with Geraldine’s. I twisted once more, checking out the angles, and declared it “the one”. And now, with the perfect dress in hand, we bid farewell to Geraldine and the boutique. The only thing left was to say goodbye to the hairy beast and hello to—silk.

My knees knocked as we stepped from the car to the spa. I would have preferred to remain in the sun and pretend this appointment didn’t exist. It was a brilliant day and getting waxed no longer seemed like the right thing to do. The spa was conveniently located near the club.

Kinsley held the door open. “Ready?”

I shook my head. “Is anyone ever ready for a torture session? Somehow, the idea is less and less appealing. In fact, the more I think about it, having strips of hair violently ripped from your hoo-ha isn’t healthy.”

“Oh, but it’s so much more than that,” Victoria said.

“Huh?”

“Izzy B, get your rear end inside now.” Kinsley stomped her foot while Victoria laughed. “And to clarify things, this trip includes the backdoor region as well.”

I stared blankly. She didn’t say what I thought she said, right?

Against my better instincts, I stepped inside. The spa had a serene feel to it. The soothing aroma of essential oils filled the air, but they did nothing to calm my nerves. The far too cheerful receptionist greeted us. And although the ambiance was inviting, I wanted to bolt.

“Have a seat and Nadine will be with you shortly.”

Shortly lasted all of three seconds.

She may as well have leaped from behind a plant and screamed my name. She wasn’t much older than us. But Pasha said she was the best, and I know my brother doesn’t trust just anyone with his junk, so she had to know what she was doing. I looked at the girls anxiously.

“Isabella?” Nadine smiled.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I offered weakly, rising from the couch. Kinsley stood up. “Where are you going?” I squeaked, feeling that if she left, I’d bolt after her.

“Nowhere. I’m coming with you, silly.” She beamed like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Uh, yeah, no. You are not watching.”

“I wouldn’t stare or anything. I can hold your hand. Talk you through it.” Her soft gray eyes looked deep into mine.

“I love you dearly, but Nadine is about ready to get to know my vagina like she’s my new gynecologist and I don’t think I want you along for that humiliation.”

“If you’re sure.” She frowned and shifted on her feet.

“I’ll call for you if it gets to be too much. How about that?”

“Okay, then I’ll wait outside the door.”

I walked down the hall, thankful that there weren’t any screams coming from the closed rooms. With one final glance at the girls, I entered the door Nadine gestured towards. We chatted nervously for a moment.

It was awkward as hell. I peeked around the room. This was where the rubber met the road. It was about to get real. She dug in a drawer and placed a minuscule-sized washcloth on the table, which resembled the gyno’s chair minus the stirrups.

“Go ahead and disrobe from the waist down and I’ll be right back.”

She left the room, and I gulped. Did they not have paper robes? Hell, I’d go for a face towel. I picked up the washcloth and examined it. It was baby-sized. I’d seen cocktail napkins with more ambition.