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“Oh, honey, when you go for it, you go for it!” she cackles.
“You get two more jokes, and then we’re even for the delayed gossip,” I warn.
Alice is still laughing. “Fine but I’m cashing in that perfume bottle incident for three more jokes, should the opportunity present itself.”
We shake on it, and then I tell her about the meeting where I realized I had a crush.
“Oh, honey,” she says again, but this time she’s not laughing. Alice gives me the crispiest home fry on her plate, and I accept it as the kindness I know it is.
By the time we make it to the check, Alice looks like she might scream.
She pays, which is good because I haven’t gotten paid yet and it shows that she feels bad for laughing at me earlier. When we’re done with lunch, Alice puts her arm through mine, looping us together, and then leads me out.
“How much longer do you have on your break?” she asks.
I look at my watch. “Another thirty,” I say, surprised. “Wow, we ate quick.”
“We always eat quickly!” she laughs. She points across the street. “I want to go there. Come on.”
She looks both ways and then sprints across the street. Because our arms are locked, I am dragged with her. I laugh,grabbing my purse before it can fall off my shoulders, and wave an apology with my bag to a car that honks at us.
Alice is a whirlwind. She always has been, and it’s one of the reasons I love her. I am marveling at this when she opens the door to the shop and ushers me in.
Sometimes, though, a whirlwind isreallynot what you need in a day.
“A lingerie shop?” I demand, spinning to her with betrayal in my eyes. “Are you joking right now?”
“No way.” She shakes her head seriously. “We need something to fix this terrible mood of yours.”
“Is my mood terrible?” I exclaim, throwing my hands up. “Is lingerie the answer?”
“Yes,” she says, smiling. “To both!”
“Hi! Can I help you ladies?” A shopkeeper comes over, a bright smile on her face. Her eyes kind of flicker up and down me once before she focuses entirely on Alice. I don’t blame her. I am not exactly dressed like I’ve got money to spend.
“My lovely friend,” Alice says, grabbing me by the shoulders like a proud mom. “Is indesperateneed of a…”
“Oh, god,” I mutter, covering my face with my hands.
“Comeon,” Alice says again, leaning in closer. “Come on, you can say it!”
I know Alice. I know her so well.
I know I’m not getting out of this without saying something.
“A makeover,” I say begrudgingly.
Alice and the shopkeeper both clap their hands happily. It’s my nightmare.
They go off in a flurry. The shopkeeper, whose name I learn is Vanessa who has a penchant for romance novels, makes me take off my suit jacket so she can more “appropriately” guess what would “look ravishing” on me.
I veto anything with less fabric than I can hold in my palm, but eventually, Alice finds enough stuff to dress me in undergarments for a month. I make her put half back but reluctantly accept some of them. After all, theyarepretty.
It’s the fastest I’ve ever seen Alice shop. We’re done in fifteen minutes, easy.
“Alice, no,” I say when she pulls out her card. She holds up a finger. “Seriously, Alice, I can pay for it.”
“And yet, I’m going to,” she says. Alice runs her card, and I shuffle awkwardly at her side.
