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To flirt with danger and dance with the fates.
I’ve spent my life telling someone else’s stories with no context of my own, borrowing life experiences that amount to an empty glass. And now I’m parched.
So that’s why I maintain the lie. Because going home isn’t an option. I love my life in London. I love my friends and my roommates and the possibilities in front of me. I can’t go back to my dad’s house and mac and cheese night.
Even if it means a painful conversation later, at least I’ll have some memories.
I take the phone back to show Dad the dress that caught my eye even while it was still on the rack. It’s red and white with severe angles but tailored in all the right places, as if it’s been waiting all this time on its hanger for my body. Minus the foot and a half of extra fabric at the bottom.
“What do you think, Dad? I really like this one.”
“You’ll be a stunner in any of them. I know you’ll have a great time. Jamie going with you?”
Celeste gives me the evil eye.
“Please, don’t get her started again.”
“Get whichever dress you like. If you need shoes or purses or any of that stuff, get that too. Sue owes me a favor,” Dad says with a wink.
“Oh really?”
“Story for another time. Just be sure to say hi to Queen Margaret for me.”
“Oh my God, Dad.”
“What? We go way back, the queen and I. I played a private concert at the palace for the holidays one year, and we stayed up for hours eating cake, talking about James Brown and Billie Holiday. The old greats. Most people don’t know, but Maggie has a great love for American rock ’n’ roll.”
Celeste is gaping at me. “I’m going to have to write a book after this.”
“This is the one,” Mori declares, studying my reflection in the mirror. She plays with my hair, pulling it off my shoulders to show off the neckline. “We can set you up with my jewelry, but I wouldn’t throw too much else on it. The dress is doing the work. Let it.”
A brief fantasy of myself plays in the mirror. I stand there for a moment, imagining this other person I could become. I’m looking at a blank page to write a new story. With the right dress and a ticket to a royal ball, anything can happen.
I smile at my reflection and say, “It’s perfect.”
24
THERE’S A CAR WAITING OUTSIDE AT SEVEN O’CLOCK SHARP.
At 7:08, I’m standing impatiently at the front door in my dress and heels, purse dangling from my wrist, hair pinned and sprayed against a Category 4 hurricane. Lee scurries down the stairs, stops, remembers something else he forgot, and scurries back up the stairs for the fifth time.
“Is this some kind of manic ritual?” I ask Jamie, who leans against the staircase giving me an amused look.
“Two years ago, Celeste got him front-row Adele tickets for his birthday,” he says, popping cashews in his mouth. “He missed the first hour of the show in a panic over a chin zit.”
Jamie’s midchew when a sneeze overtakes him and sends disgusting bits of snot and cashew in my direction.
“Oh my God, Jamie. You are horrific.” I fret, making sure none of his bodily fluids got on my dress. Thankfully, no. “I’ve seen enough of your snot this past week to last a lifetime.”
“Sorry.” He swipes his sleeve over his runny nose, then sniffs a few times. “I told you, it’s these bloody allergies.”
The door opens and bumps me in the back, almost plastering me to the wall. Behind it, Jack walks in, oblivious to me or the weak resistance my body puts up against his forceful entrance.
“You know there’s some rude-looking bloke outside with a black car?”
Jamie gives him a nod. “Other side, mate.”
Jack takes the hint and peeks behind the open door to find me and my whole getup smooshed against the wall.
