Page 42 of The Real


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“Oh, you look like the Wicked Witch of the West,” she said with a laugh.

“So, what’s the problem?”

Bree shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know, babe. Look in the mirror and see if you find yourself irresistibly sexy.”

“I’m a witch. Witches aren’t sexy,” I said slowly as if we were having a communication problem. Maybe I did need to get her hearing checked. I turned and studied the nose with a giant wart on the tip when it hit me. “Oh shit,” I said, realizing what she meant.

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry if tonight’s the big night. You could wear an adult diaper and be safe.”

“I wasn’t even thinking along those lines,” I said helplessly.

“I know, babe. But this is a date.”

My face was rapidly paling beneath the green mask. Nowhere in my mind had I thought to seduce my new boyfriend with my costume. I could have picked any number of things and made it sexy, but I saw the witch hat and thought it a no-brainer. The dick nose I’d glued to my face with a giant wart attached would ensure I remained celibate. Had I done it on purpose?

“He’s going to be here in twenty minutes! I don’t have enough makeup to redo my face!”

“Damn, girl,” she said, letting her laughter consume her. “It’s fine. Just get it off and we’ll go heavy on the eye makeup. Do you have something black and low cut in here?”

I heard the scrape of hangers on the rack as she went through my clothes while I tried to remove the nose. Tugging at it to no avail, I moved in closer to the mirror and saw a giant black hair hanging from the wart. Cursing my stupidity, even in my haste to find a last-minute costume, I began to panic when the nose wouldn’t budge.

“Oh shit, Bree! It won’t come off! I used too much adhesive!” The pain was becoming unbearable as I pulled and pulled on the nose, my eyes watering, and tears spilling over my cheeks. The side of the appendage was the only thing to give, but it still sat proudly erect on my face. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“What?” Bree said, emerging from my closet with a low cut black dress that showed tons of cleavage.

“I can’t find the remover. I think that’s why it was discounted. It was missing a tube!”

Bree began laughing hysterically as I went through every trash can in my bedroom.

“Nope, not in here,” I said in a panic as she doubled over. “You bitch, stop laughing and help me!”

“I will,” she said. “I will, swear to God, just give me a second.” She composed her face. “Okay,” she said, walking toward me before she broke down again.

“BREE!”

“Sorry,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

“God, I hate you right now,” I said, my chin wobbling.

“Don’t freak, we’ve got this.”

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell sounded while Bree and I studied my reflection.

“This is insane. Just tell him I had a wardrobe malfunction and I’ll meet him there.”

“You look good,” Bree said, smiling, but I could tell she was still on the verge of losing it.

I narrowed my eyes. “I’ve got an eerily realistic looking witch face and my tits are hanging out!”

“But you have amazing tits,” she said. “You’re fine. Own it.”

“I don’t even want to borrow it. This is too weird. Just please get the door and tell him I’ll meet him there.”

“No way,” she said. “You look fine.” She fastened the cape around my neck and fluffed up the collar. “See?”

I tilted my head, my nose in my peripheral. A surprising amount of hope surfaced. “Just get the door.”

“Proud of you, hoochie.”

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