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I linger my hand over the green one. “Toad,” Lilah says. Then the yellow one. “Let’s just say you don’t want that.” Finally, pink. “Strawberry,” she says with a smile.
Finally, I take a strawberry croissant and take a bite of the fluffy, delicate pastry. It’s amazing, and I’m so grateful Lilah is letting me sell her products at my cafe. I’m just one person, and can only bake so much by myself after all.
“So,” Victoria starts slowly. “What’s going on with you and Chet?”
I nearly choke on my croissant as the eyes of every woman at the table immediately fixes on me. Lilah, who was about to walk away, puts the tray back down and a hand on her hip. “I don't…I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, who broke up with who?” Victoria asks, continuing to press. “You guys were inseparable when you got here, now suddenly you’re ghosting him and he’s moping around the shop like a kicked dog.”
“We didn’t break—”
Lilah grabs a chair and sits down at the edge of the table. “I need to hear this. Okay, what did he do?”
I’m speechless with exasperation. Did they invite me just so they could bombard me like this? “It’s nothing, I just… I don’t know! I was too needy, so I decided to give him some space. And now he’s mad about it. He’s mad at me,” I sigh. I thought we were going to gossip aboutotherpeople in town tonight.
The others begin exchanging looks. Very suspicious, pointed looks. “Do you know what you need?” A woman with green tinted skin reaches over and pats me on the arm. “To get back on the market.”
“The charity market, to be exact,” Mrs. Murphy adds. My mouth drops open in confusion.
“There’s a fundraising auction for the community center next week. Bachelorette lunch date,” Victoria explains. “Each girl dresses up really nice and the guys in town bid on the one they want to take on a date. Maybe we could even give you a makeover!”
I internally cringe at what Victoria’s idea of a makeover would look like.
Still, it’s not a terrible idea. The thought of putting myself out there for guys to actually bid on is a little intimidating. But it’s for a good cause. And maybe I can meet some new people, have a fun lunch, and stop pining over Chet for one afternoon.
I agree, reluctantly. What could go wrong?
11
GABRIELLA
Iput on my earrings. The dainty pink glass hearts hang on French hooks from my ears. My reflection reminds me of a bobbysoxer. My pink and white polka-dots flared shirt playfully swishes. The black ribbon drapes over my hips.
My pink cardigan covers my arms and the thin spaghetti straps on my shoulders. All I am missing is saddle shoes. I opt for soft pink kitten heel Mary Janes. The pink bow embellishments decorate my feet. Yes, I look like a doll, but I like it. It’s me. It’s cute.
The busy event coordinators and other ‘bachelorettes’ work to get ready for the stage. I lean over a makeup table, reapplying a fresh coat of my bubblegum lipstick. I’m pretty in pink and ready to go out there.
Veronica and Carolyn walk in looking like they walked out of a horror movie or a gothic romance novel. Carolyn opens a box of safety pins and places them on her makeup table. Her dress is tea-length. The entire thing is black lace over a sheath. The lace scallops around her neck and covers her arms. A layer of ruffles covers her chest. I watch as she places large safety pins along the ruffle.
“Never thought to use safety pins as jewelry,” I observe.
Carolyn turns to answer me and her eyes widen in surprise or horror, I can’t tell which. She clicks a safety pin into place. “It adds great texture to a dress,” she explains.
I nod, pretending to understand. I decide not to ask about the obvious combat boots and fishnet stockings. She places a couple of safety pins into her messy bun. I am looking at a punk rock princess.
Veronica has gone a different direction, her dress is floor length. It is heavy black velvet. The waist is high and the sleeves are long and bell out at her wrists. Her shoes are dainty silk slippers. She brushes her hair but then settles a humongous top hat onto her head. Long flowing red ribbons spill down her back. She pulls her hair behind her ears.
I look around at the other women primping. The room is a sea of black and gray, a few jewel tones, but nothing like my pink aura. I am a freak here. No one is going to pay for my company, not in this crowd.
I look back at Carolyn and Veronica. One is applying blood-red lipstick. The other is darkening their eyeliner. They look like goth pin-ups. Veronica glances at my pastel makeup collection. “Aren’t you going to finish your makeup?” she asks.
I nervously fold my hands in front of me. I look down, a little embarrassed. “My makeup is done. I like the natural look,” I answer.
Carolyn and Veronica give me the same two-headed look back at the cafe. I try not to cry. After all, I am going on stage soon. “Oh you guys, I’m just going to embarrass myself aren’t I?” I moan.
Veronica is the first one to place a hand on my shoulder. “You aren’t going to embarrass yourself. It’s just you have a very — unique style that’s all. Some guys are into that,” she assures me.
“Ronnie is right, you might stick out here, but there is someone out there that would like to take you out,” Carolyn adds.
