My eyes drop as guilt crashes over me. I shouldn’t be out here with Sean. Soaking in the joy from his words. Coy,my boyfriend, is the reason I’m here tonight. Without him I’d be nowhere. Have nothing. “I better getinside.”
“Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He leans forward and dips down so our eyes meet. His are full of apology and concern. “I’m not hitting on you. You’re with Coy and I respect that. I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are. All women deserve to be told thetruth.”
His words sting and I have to blink back the moisture in myeyes.
“Sorry, that was supposed to make you feel better, not worse.” He rubs one hand at the nape of his neck and blows out an exaggeratedbreath.
“It’sfine.”
“I’m an idiot. I apologize. Can we go back to where you were smiling like you might want to befriends?”
My brow furrows at his question.Friends?“You want to be myfriend?”
“Sure. I mean, you are living in the room across from mine. And coming on the road with us,right?”
“Yes.” I nod and anxiety creeps into my belly at the thought Coy might change his mind and leave me behind. Especially after wearing this dress. “That’s theplan.”
“Cool. Then I say, friends.” He holds out his hand. Waiting. Patiently. Until I finally place my palm against his fingertips. He winks and releases my hand with a quick and friendlyshake.
“Friends,” I force asmile.
“I’ll be a good friend. Promise.” He traces his index finger over his heart. “Shit.” He pulls his cell from his back pocket and glances at the screen. “Gotta get ready for the show,friend.” He winks again with his use of the word friend, and it makes me smile for real this time. He’s almost to the door when he stops and jogs backover.
Nerves bubble in my belly at his approach, and I back up a step before I realize why he cameback.
Bending over, he retrieves the bag he dropped. “Littering is bad for the earth.” He grins and shoves it into his coat before heading backinside.
It’s only after he’s gone I realize he never took out a cigarette tosmoke.
“Friend.” I say the word aloud and relish in the fantasy that he actually meant that. I haven’t had a friend, just a friend, in years. Maybe since I was a child. And the thought of having an ally in this world—outside of Coy—is a blessing initself.
The door swings open and three older gentlemen step outdoors, pulling cigars from their breast pockets and intruding on my solitude. I blow out a breath and prepare to face the crowd again. Walking to the door, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrored glass of thewindow.
Am Ibeautiful?
My dress. My hair. Mymakeup.
All the exposed skin on my chest.Shit.I beeline for the ladies’room.
Inside the restroom, I catch my reflection, even more clear, and burst into tears. Not a practical or helpful solution, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m a cross between a Playboy Bunny and a teenager trying for sexy at her high school prom. Neither look acceptable for an event like this and the only other thing I have in the hotel room upstairs to change into is a pair of jeans and T-shirt. I have an old hoodie, but that’s not appropriateeither.
A woman clears her throat and it’s then I realize I’m not alone. The restroom attendant offers me a tissue, not quite meeting my eyes. “Here, sweetheart.” Her kindness only causes more tears toflow.
“Excuse me, do you have the time?” I ask because my clutch with my cell inside is sitting at my place on table Thirty-Four in the center of the ballroom. I need to get back inside, at least to get the key, but I’m also worried I’ve completely missed my chance. There’s no way I’m walking back inside like this, not for Coy to see, and the thought brings even moretears.
“Seven-fifty, and don’t cry. You’ll mess yourmakeup.”
I’d be insulted if not for the fact this woman reminds me of the grandma who’s cast in almost every family film I’ve seen. Her smile is gentle and she waits until I raise my eyes in the mirror to speak again. “See.Beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I sniffle and dab the wetness from my face without wiping away any makeup. I blink to try and clear the redness from my eyes, but that’s useless. Great, now I appear both a whore andhigh.
“Now, how can I help? I don’t want you tocry.”
I blow out a shaky breath and stand a little closer to the mirror to fix my makeup and hair. “Nothing. I just . . . I should have worn a different dress, I think. I’ve made my boyfriendupset.”
“But why? The boyfriend should like, no?” She waggles her eyebrows and I know it’s to make me laugh, only I don’t because it confirms what I’m wearing is much toorisqué.
“Hey, everything okay?” A woman steps out of one of the restroom stalls and begins washing her hands. Her gown must be two pieces, and the skirt of the dress, a black floor length fabric strewn with gold flecks, catches the light and sparkles with her movement. It’s edgy, but her lace overlay top is conservative with a high neck and long sleeves. Something I wish I’d paired over my owndress.
