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Massey lets me ramble on while she zips up the rest of my dress. She’s effortlessly transformed me into a fancy woman. I almost don’t recognize myself in this dress and with the make-up.
“Good… Great!” Trying to boost my own spirits, I say. “I can do this. I can do this.”
“Collins, you drop in on an eight-foot plus wave with no hesitation,” Massey reminds me. She’s standing behind me as we face the full-length mirror. “This is similar. It’s just a wave for you to tackle.”
“Right.” I bounce my shoulders, trying to soak in what she says. “But, Massey, this isn’t a wave.”
“Oh look, Victor is here.” She ignores me.
“You’re a jerk.” I bite my lip, trying to find the confidence and push down this bitch of anxiety.
“You will be fine.” She rolls her eyes at me.
I can hear Victor as he walks right through the door. A sense of normalcy hits me at how comfortable it is to have him in my space.
“Baby, are you … whoa.” His jaw drops as he rounds the corner. His lip turns up on one side and his eyes track up and down my body.
Massey brought several dresses to choose from but ultimately, we picked a full-length, off-the-shoulder dress with a corset top and mermaid bottom. The dark forest green makes my tan skin pop and my eyes shine bright, although I don’t think it’s the dress. There is a slit up the leg that comes to mid-thigh, and Massey insisted on red heels.
“Is this suitable?” I ask. Victor continues to trace every single inch of my body but still does not answer. “Is this okay? Or do I need to change?”
“What?” His eyes finally find mine.
“How do I look?” Maybe the question needed to be rephrased?
“Fucking perfect, Collins! You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” He huffs. He takes my hand, kissing the top of my knuckles, then wraps it around his forearm. “Come on, I want to show you off.”
“Okay,” I turn back toward Massey, “Thanks.”
She looks at me like a mom watching her daughter going to prom. That’s how it feels at least.
“Always.” She mouths back to me.
Victor drives us in his corporate car to the most expensive restaurant on the Island. Approaching a place I’d never thought I’d be a guest at, I feel quite jittery. Victor gets out, handing the keys to the valet, whom I’ve seen around the community before. Victor comes to my side and helps me out. The valet’s mouth drops before a loud whistle grabs our attention. He mocks a bow as he dips into the car and drives away.
“What was that? Should I be worried?” Victor utters sternly.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I try to convince him, “I will be on my best behavior!”
“Don’t try to be someone else, just be yourself. It’s my favorite part.”
He again takes my hand and, wrapping it around his forearm, guides me inside. The hostess perks up at our arrival. Excitedly, she welcomes Victor by his first name and promptly escorts us to a table with a few couples. We take our seats and I breathe a sigh of relief when he sits next to me. The table seems to be broken up to Victor’s side with the firm coworkers and their wives or girlfriends on the other side. I’m so glad he didn’t let me fend for myself, even if he directs his attention to his end of the table.
Food and wine are plentiful across the table while Victor is in deep talks with his clients. His work jargon is something I’m not familiar with, so I try to focus on the women talking. But it’s also out of my league.
“Oh God! The manicurist totally tried to get me into a new color and I was like, no honey, red is my color!” Angel squeaks. I still don’t know who belongs to which coworker. “Red nails, red dress, red shoes, red is my power color!”
“She sounds incompetent. Was it your regular girl?” Bells asks.
“Yes!” Angel responds with a huff.
“Then she should’ve known better!” Bells insists.
I look down at my nails. No color, and you can still see some grease under them. I did a piss-poor job for this minor aspect of my look tonight. I bite my lower lip and internally curse for not even thinking of my nails to complete this whole get-up. Suddenly, it’s the conversation the guys have, causing me to snap my head up.
“I tried talking to Massey’s boyfriend, that mechanic, about that classic car that’s being restored.” One client says.
“Yeah, me too. Didn’t budge on it.” The other leans back in his chair, sipping on his Borbon.
