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“It isn’t my event, but I wish it was. Catch you later. Bye.”
The receiver clicked and Mikaela chuckled as she put her phone down. She had estimated that Lynne was going to be here in ten, dress in ten, and take selfies for another ten. That girl lov
ed her selfies.
She bolted up from her loveseat and walked for her closet. She flung it open and took out the dress Lynne was going to borrow. Now what she going to wear? She picked out a cobalt blue number, a figure-hugging dress with a hint of cleavage in the middle of it. She had the perfect shoes for it. Mikaela disliked stilettos and if she could, she preferred to be barefoot or in sneakers.
“You don’t wear sneakers or flip-flops if you want to move on top,” Lynne would tell her.
She would tell Lynne she had no plans of being in the corporate world or the fashion industry where stilettos were needed and Lynne would “tsk” at her and express to Mikaela she’d need some in the near future. “Who knows,” Lynne said, “you just might date someone who’s past six feet.”
She promised to herself she wouldn’t date anyone who was exceedingly tall, citing it would be difficult to get romantic kisses and hugs and it would look awkward in pictures. Her ex-boyfriends were five-foot-nine at most. She hadn’t dated in over a year, much to Lynne’s disappointment. She wondered if this was why Lynne wanted her to be her date for tonight’s event, so she could set her up with some corporate man.
Sure, set me up with a billionaire or something, she scoffed as she put her dress on, because everyone billionaire will have eyes for me, right? Lynne could get a millionaire if she wanted to, and she was sure Lynne could get a billionaire if millionaires weren’t available.
She had done her makeup earlier, hoping it still looked all right. The air was rather humid tonight and she didn’t want to look like a train wreck by the time she and Lynne got to the party. She was in good spirits when time Lynne rang on her doorbell, with thirty minutes to spare. Lynne quickly changed into the dress she fancied, admiring herself on Mikaela’s only full-length mirror.
“Could you scoot a little?” Lynne asked her so she could appreciate her outfit more.
Mikaela huffed then smiled. “Yeah, yeah, your curves are perfect in all the right places.”
Lynne stuck out her tongue. “I know, right?”
“Think that’s gonna snag a few men?”
“Boys, men, whatever, as long as they got what I want,” Lynne said with a laugh. “And I kind of want a lot, I tell you.”
Mikaela shook her head and chuckled. “Damn it, Lynne, you’d better be careful. Some of them might be married.”
“I know who is and who isn’t in the office, so I’m careful there. Tonight’s a different thing, that’s why I want to look like a million bucks, all glittery.”
“Is there even some dress code to this? For all we know it’ll call for those fancy shmancy full length dresses, or maybe ankle length skirts with shawls.”
Lynne scoffed. “All it said was cocktail. It’s like half a party and half a corporate event or something.”
Mikaela smiled. Lynne had a way for explaining things in a funny and vague manner, one that she still understood. There was a reason why they were friends.
“Oh damn it, I was so busy oohing and aahing over myself that I missed out on your look for the night. Give it a twirl?” Lynne asked her, focusing on Mikaela this time.
Mikaela gave an awkward twirl and Lynne laughed at it. “Oh, you’re looking fabulous all right in those bedroom slippers. I hope you still have those heels. Remember that impulse buy?”
“Oh those heels that you forced me to buy?” Mikaela’s face looked sour.
“Yes, those. Those were beautiful. I suggest you wear them!”
“You mean insist?”
“Whatever, they’re both the same. Come on, hurry up, there’s still like a fifteen-minute drive to the hotel.”
“I was waiting for you,” Mikaela said.
“Well come on!”
Mikaela drove a newer Honda, and she told Mikaela to replace her antique one, telling her it wasn’t fitting. Mikaela scoffed at the idea, it was impractical and expensive. Besides, she was on a barista’s wage. She rarely went shopping with Lynne and on those rare occasions, her buys were ridden with guilt or doubt, even the mere buying of shoes.
The ride was smooth, until they got to the hotel. Valet parking had a line and suddenly, Mikaela was glad that she was riding in Lynne’s car and not her own. She saw the cars ahead of them, all branded cars, cars whose names she couldn’t pronounce. Unexpectedly, she felt nervous. She realized she hadn’t been to any formal events in years, the last one was prom, in the school gym and a good friend had lent her a dress to wear. It was a night filled with awkward and forgettable events, she had had her first sloppy kiss there, too.
She and Lynne got out of the car and walked up to the hotel, with Lynne morphing into a social butterfly. So many “hellos” and “this is my friend Mikaela.” She had lost track of the names and faces that had been introduced to her, some even looked like her customers at the coffee shop. Or were they?
