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I don't think I ever lied to him in our entire fifteen years of knowing each other, but I've done it twice today.
"Babe, you don't need to explain yourself to me. It's your twenty-first birthday and you deserve something nice for yourself."
He smiles and gives me a hug. I don't deserve this man.
"Put some makeup on, I'll curl your hair for you."
I nod and let him usher me to my small vanity. It's old and painted yellow, like most of my room, but the paint is so worn and chipped from years of use that it's almost a cream color now.
He starts curling my hair and I dust on a quick smokey eye with a brush of mascara. I've not been the best with makeup, but I know the basics and how to bring out my best features, my eyes being one of them.
He's spraying my hair and giving it so much volume that I could kiss his feet. He's always practiced his styling techniques on me, I've practically been his doll our whole friendship, but I've never minded. It makes me feel special.
I give my cheeks some color with a light blush and run a gloss over my lips. Ricky is done with my hair and I almost look like a super model. I can't remember the last time I got this done up. It gives me a small boost of confidence.
I stand up and begin stripping out of my comfy clothes, standing in a matching set of white silk underwear and bra while Ricky helps me into my dress.
We've never felt weird changing in front of one another. Besides our dedicated friendship and zero attraction to each other, Ricky likes men so I've never had a reason to feel violated or scared to be half naked around him. We've known each other since grade school.
He fixes the dress in places so that it hugs me perfectly, his focused stylist face on full display and it makes me smile. He really is going to do so many beautiful and artistic things when he graduates. I can't wait to wear some of his collections.
I slide into a pair of nude heels from my high school graduation. They still fit but have small scratches on them both from time and from getting them at a secondhand store. They don't feel right with the dress, but they're all I have.
He looks me up and down and smiles with pride, obviously pleased with his creation.
"That dress was made for you, baby girl." I look in the mirror at the stranger before me.
The woman in the mirror looks nothing like me. She looks beautiful and out of place, but confidence shows through green eyes. I can't remember the last time I felt this confident in my own skin. I don't think I've ever felt this pretty before.
My hair is perfectly curled with ample volume, the dark strands gleaming in the soft light in my bedroom. My makeup is light, but it brings out my features in the best way.
The dress looks expensive on me, which I thought would make me feel like an imposter, but I look like I fit right in it. The only thing I'm uncomfortable about is my shoes, but if I know Ricky as well as I do, we'll be dancing too much to even wear shoes.
Ricky messes with my hair, a smug and prideful look on his face shows in the mirror.
"My work here is done. I just need to change and we'll be ready to go."
He runs to his bedroom and I look at the time. It’s just past ten at night. I look to my bed, some stupid part of me is curious to turn the burner phone back on, but I don't. I grab my phone and login into my bank account to see how much spending cash I have. As soon as it opens, I nearly faint at what I see.
Almost twenty grand is in my bank account. Never in my life have I seen this kind of money and I know for a fact it came from Dante. I sit there in shock, staring at the screen like it's from another universe. In a way, it is. What in the actual fuck am I going to do with this?
He already paid off my semester and the balance for my dorm room for the rest of the semester. I definitely don’t need that much for food and living expenses. Why would he even give me this? Is he paying me off with drug money? A million thoughts run through my mind, so much that I almost make myself sick with them. I stare at my bed again, temptation luring me to turn on the burner phone.
Although I would love an answer for this, I’d just be falling into whatever trap he has set for me. He didn’t do any of this out of kindness, he has zero ounce of kindness in his entire body. I exit out of my bank app and throw my phone, debit card and license into my old clutch that’s practically falling off its wristlet and leave my room. Whatever game he’s playing, I won’t participate. I’ll take the cash as my consolation for him holding me hostage. Tonight, I’m having fun.
* * *
We arrived at the club a little past midnight. Ricky, of course, spent too long styling his hair and outfit even though he said he was almost ready every ten minutes. In his words, there is never a time limit on looking good.
The club is about ten minutes away from campus, maybe fifteen if you walk. Though in these heels, I could never. Plus, I can spare a few dollars on a ride share thanks to my new trust fund. I decided not to tell Ricky about the money. I figured if he asked, I would just say I was saving all year to make my last semester less stressful. It’s only a matter of time before he starts catching on to the money and clothes that I’ve obtained recently, so I need to be ahead of the game.
I really hate lying to him, but I also hate having to involve him in this new life that’s filled with secrets and danger. He and his family have done nothing but take care of me since I was little, and I couldn’t bear to put them in harm's way.
The music from the club is so loud that it’s vibrating my teeth. The pink and blue lights flash all around and I feel a buzz just from the ambiance of this place. Bodies fill nearly every square foot of the building and for a moment I wonder if Dante owns this club too. Once again, while I’m trying to live my life, he enters my mind.
“What do you want from the bar? First round’s on me, birthday girl!” Ricky shouts at me as we near the bar. I really have no idea. The only alcohol I’ve consumed is wine and expensive whiskey, all while I’ve been under a cartel leader's watch.
I feel my face heat up as I remember last night, the way the whiskey heated me and gave me enough liquid courage to actually fuck a drug lord. I’m trying my best not to think of last night, to forget the exquisite pleasure that he made my body feel. I’m trying my best not to think of him at all.
