What should I wear?
Something fancy. I’ll leave you a ticket at the entrance. Just say your name. See you.
Well, that’s intriguing.
“Bea?” I yell to her while she’s in the shower. “What are you doing this Saturday?”
“Nothing as usual,” she yells back. “Why?”
“Wanna be my plus one to a gala where Jeff will be performing for the first time?”
Her head pops up from the bathroom door, the water pooling from her hair in a puddle underneath her. “Hell yeah.”
54
Maeve
Saturday comes, and we’re getting ready to leave the tiny apartment. It’s really time for me to move out—it took us many elbow jabs and bickering to get dressed in this small space. We can’t keep living like this without murdering each other.
I borrowed Bea’s sleeved, black dress which has a long slit up to my thigh. I also found a red lacy cami in her underwear drawer and a sewing needle. After making a few alterations, the cami is on top of the dress, giving it character. The leftovers of the material are wrapped around the visible part of my thigh, making it peek through with every move like lingerie. The red headband and hair piled on top of my head finish the look of sexy casual.
When Bea sees me checking my creation in the mirror, she whistles, grabs scissors, and walks up to me, silently asking me to do something with her dress too. I accept witha giddy feeling—my hands have been itching to change her deep blue backless dress into something that will suit her better. She has fantastic legs, so I cut the hem just below the knees and add a deeper V line.
Hand sewing takes time, especially when Bea decided that she wants her dress altered an hour before we’re supposed to leave, so we arrive at the gala at eight fifteen. I rush to open the door of the taxi, nearly tripping over the hem of my dress while trying to step out, hoping we didn’t miss Jeff’s performance. I’d never forgive myself if it happens due to our vanity.
The moment the taxi door opens, we get blinded by flashes from everywhere. I think for a moment that they’ll realize it’s just us and stop. But I’m proven wrong because the flashes intensify along with the cries.
“Mrs. King, please look here. Smile here!”
“Why did you decide to go against the rules the first outing?”
“What are you wearing today? Is that something from the new collection?”
Exchanging confused looks with Bea, we hurry up the stairs. I’m ready to give my name to the guard at the doors, when he gestures for me to go in.
“This way, Mrs. King.”
Feeling even more confused, we walk inside. The room is full.
The room is weird.
Very fucking weird.
Nearly every single woman in the crowded space is wearing some form of the dress I wore before. The one with the pink lace underneath. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much lace in one room outside of the lingerie store.
“I’m in the twilight zone,” Bea mumbles next to me, and I silently agree with her.
I loathed coming here due to the original impression the society and I had on each other, but hostility is the last thing I’m feeling right now. Instead, everyone looks ecstatic when their eyes land on us.
“Maybe we should leave?” I whisper-yell to Bea, who looks as confused as I am.
“Maeve!” comes a loud voice usually associated with comfort for me.
I turn toward the sound. “Jeff?” I half say half ask, not recognizing the man in front of me.
Wearing a three-piece burgundy wool suit and a short haircut, without his long, unkept beard, he looks like a movie star from the sixties.
“Yes, yes, kid. That’s me,” he chuckles, limping over to me. “I’m so glad you made it. The show is about to begin.”
