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“No, no, no!” I scream at the laptop on the tiny kitchen counter in our NY apartment.
Aria comes racing into the room as I gape in horror at the email, “What? Did you get fired?”
“No, but I’m going to be if I don’t get to a gala in,” I check the time, “three hours! Oh my god, Aria! It’s black tie, I don’t have gown or shoes or… anything!”
“Oh shit. There’s no time to find a gown and have it altered. Wait, is Lennox coming?” Her eyes perk up and gleam at the possibility.
I rip the phone out of my pocket and call him but it goes straight to voicemail. Oh god, he’s on a plane. I text him instead.
Mallory: WHERE ARE YOU?
Lennox: So eager, I like it.
Mallory: TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW!
Lennox: Somewhere over the Atlantic, I suppose. Would you like me to ask the pilot for exact coordinates?
“He’s on his way here!” I run my hands through my hair and start pacing in a frantic mess.
“Yes! I get to meet him!” Aria squeals and claps her hands.
“This is not funny! What am I going to do?”
“There is only one thing to do. We need to raid Lydia’s closet,” Aria nods.
“No!” I whine.
“Yes, it’s the only way. Come on, I’ll get everything to be your personal glam squad. I’ll do your makeup and hair, you deal with Lydia.” Aria runs off and I can hear her tearing apart the bathroom gathering up supplies.
Damn it to hell, Aria is right. Lydia Mitchell and I could not be more different inside, but on the outside, she and I are a perfect match and she has an entire walk-in devoted to ball gowns and Louboutins. This is going to kill me, but I pick up my phone again.
“Oh, thank goodness, you’ve come to your senses,” Mom answers, not even saying hello.
“Mother, Aria and I are coming over. I need an emergency ball gown.” My stomach is rolling from having to ask her for anything after today’s fiasco.
“For the UG Gala? Your father and I are attending, obviously. But why would you need a gown?”
“I need to attend for work and just found out. There’s no time to get a dress. I need one of yours.” If I bite my tongue any harder I am going to draw blood.
“Mallory, unless you are planning to attend with David and as our daughter who has regained her sense of dignity, I most certainly will not be lending you a gown.” The righteousness in her tone, being able to hold something over my head, I can almost see her phony Upper East Side smirk from here in Morningside Heights.
“Mother, so help me god, you will lend me the gown and shoes of my choice or I swear to god, I will drive to Screaming Mimi’s and pick out the most fabulous drag queen gown I can find, six-inch studded heels, and I will show up at that gala announcing myself to every patron as Mallory Mitchell, daughter of Robert and Lydia!”
My mother gasps, “You wouldn’t!”
“Oh, I would! Just imagine what all the ladies from the club will say, mother!” I roar as Aria comes back into the room with a laundry basket stuffed with makeup, hairdryers, flat irons, and every bottle of product that lives in the bathroom.
“Very well, Mallory,” my mother finally concedes and I push disconnect. Nothing is more important than appearances, after all.
“We need to move, honey, time is ticking,” Aria balances the laundry basket on her hip and grabs her keys from a hook by the front door.
Fourteen
“When guys see her comin’, they start spendin’ their money. She’s a knockout. But don’t you know I’m the only one to call her honey.” - Social Distortion - Knockout
Lennox
The sun is low in the sky as we land in New York City. I haven’t been here in years and wasn’t Sandra the Dragon Lady surprised when I was only too happy to jump on a jet and fly here for whatever pointless event she’d found so important. My cooperation will keep her guessing for weeks or maybe she thinks Mallory has me by the balls.
