Wrong Side of Forty

by Jana DeLeon

  “I wore this last spring for the engineer’s company party.”

  Marina grabbed the offending item and dangled it from her pinkie. “This? You wore this swatch? Where? On your ankle?”

  “It fits from under your chest to just over your hips. Smooths everything out and gives you an awesome waist. Just makes things disappear.”

  Marina shook her head. “No. It can’t make things disappear. All those things that appear to be gone have just been shoved somewhere else. Like into a kidney or, God forbid, into a bra. I don’t have any more room at that inn.”

  “Let’s just try it. If it doesn’t work, then you don’t have to wear it. The dress has a little room in it, and it’s stretchy material.”

  “Great. If this doesn’t work, I can look like a lumpy mess.”

  “This will work. Trust me.”

  “I’m having trouble understanding how you even got in this.”

  “Crisco and water pills. We don’t have time for the water pills so we’ll just have to make do. Although if you’d told me you were going to spend the day playing plumber, I would have gone ahead with that plan. You were already in the bathroom most of the day.”

  “You want me to lather up with cooking oil? Won’t the hair band slide around? I don’t want to be that woman pulling at her undergarments all night.”

  “The Crisco sinks into your skin after a bit. Makes it really smooth, so added bonus in case things progress beyond your claim that you’re doing this to find the ring and Luke’s claim that he’s doing it to make the LeDoux mad.”

  “Things will not progress. I’m not in a place to progress. This is a non-progressing sort of deal.”

  Halcyon shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you realize that if you don’t find the ring, you’ve only got so many days left to get in some really awesome sex. And I’d really like for you to have some before you die.”

  “How do you know…you know what, never mind.”

  “How do I know when it’s really awesome? Or how do I know you haven’t had any? I think the second question is self-explanatory given that I know Harold is your one and only and, well, Harold. As to the first, when your entire body tingles, then catches fire—but in a good way, not a hot flash way—then it explodes in wave after wave of ecstasy that feels so incredible that you don’t even care if it was your last moment on earth. Your mind is empty of everything but pleasure. You’re too weak to move. All you can do is breathe and with every breath, your body tingles all over again.”

  Marina sighed. She’d definitely never had an experience like Halcyon described. With some coaching, she’d taught Harold how to get her to the finish line, so to speak. But she’d never flamed from pleasure and her mind had never gone blank. It had usually made a mental note to change the bedsheets.

  Had her entire life been about settling?

  Halcyon squeezed her arm. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

  “You didn’t do anything. It’s just that lately I view my life different from how I did before. And I don’t like a lot of what I see.”

  “You still have time to change all that.”

  “Do I?”

  “Absolutely. You’re going to find that ring and save the world and collect all that money. Then you and I are going to spend at least a year traveling to exotic places with even more exotic men.”

  Marina nodded, but she knew that what Halcyon wanted was a dream. A great big glorious dream, but such a long shot. And even if she found the ring, there were so many other things going on in Alexios’s world that she worried it might be too late. But she couldn’t think about any of that now. With so many things overwhelming her mind, it was better if she just concentrated on one at a time. She needed to attend the party and figure out a way to wander around and see if she could sense the ring. Assuming wandering was possible wearing a hair band around her waist.

  “Let’s get me stuffed in this thing like boudin,” Marina said.

  “Now you’re talking.” Halcyon reached into the tote bag she’d brought with her and handed Marina a tin of Crisco.

  “You were serious about that?”

  “Get naked and slick.”

  Marina cringed. “Words you never want to hear directed at you from your sister.”

  “C’mon. You’re burning daylight and I’ve still got to address the hem.”

  Marina pointed at Snooze, who was lounging in the corner of her bedroom. “Out. I’m not willing to embarrass myself in front of more living beings than Halcyon.”

  Snooze rose from his spot and headed for the living room. She could swear he was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. Refusing to be shamed by her dog, Marina shrugged off her robe and dug out a gob of the Crisco. She hesitated for a moment, then slapped the goo on midthigh where Halcyon had indicated and rubbed it up to just under her chest, giving a silent thanks that Halcyon was busy digging shoes and purses out of the tote bag rather than watching her. She’d already turned her back to the mirror, not even wanting to see the debacle herself.

  “How’s it going?” Halcyon asked and looked over at her.

  “All done on the front and sides. I can’t reach all of my back.”

  “I’ll get that. Turn around.”

  Marina faced the wall and got a full-length view of her naked, greased self and frowned. Yes, she showered every day—sometimes more if it was a particularly bad hot flash day—but she usually toweled off and pulled on clothes of some sort. She didn’t really spend time staring at herself naked from head to toe.

  At first, she wanted to tell Halcyon to forget everything, pull on her robe again, and destroy all the mirrors in her home. Then she looked again. This time taking into account the last twenty-eight years of her life.

  There were stretch marks, of course. She had Avery to thank for those and for the loose skin around her middle. Well, it used to be loose. In the past five years, she’d packed on enough pounds to fill it out. And the cuts she used to have in her thighs and biceps were rounded out now, disguising the muscle beneath that she knew was still there.

  She smiled. Honestly, she looked pretty damned good.

  “Let’s do this,” Halcyon said.

  “What the hell,” Marina said and stepped into the hair band.

  “I’ll get the back. You work the front. It’s better if we pull at the same time.”

  Marina bent over and grabbed the top of the hair band. “One, two, three.”

  Both she and Halcyon pulled at the same time and managed to get it past her knees and onto her thighs, where everything came to a halt.

  “Okay,” Halcyon said. “This is where we start inching it up. The top is touching the Crisco, so if we can get it all over the grease then we’ll be good.”

  Marina wiggled her toes, pretty sure blood flow had stopped to her feet, then regripped the top of the hair band and gave it a hard tug. It inched up a bit and Halcyon followed with a pull on the back. They continued this method of coverage until they reached her butt.

  “This is the hardest part,” Halcyon said.

  “Because it’s the widest part, and shoving it into my intestines won’t work. And don’t even suggest any orifices. I’m going to a party, not prison.”

  “Just keep the front from moving and try to keep from lifting.”

  Before Marina could even ask how one kept from lifting, Halcyon gave the hair band a huge pull and Marina went up on her toes like a ballerina.

  “Flat feet,” Halcyon said, and gave it another yank. This one managed to get it over the bottom of her rear.

  “Don’t move,” Halcyon warned. “We’re in that precarious zone where it could tip over the edge.”

  “Then why did you stop?”

  “Because I have a hand cramp.”

  “That’s valid.”

  “Stop talking. Don’t move. Maybe don’t breathe.”

  “I suppose it’s too late to tell you I have to pee.”

  Halcyon pulled again and this time t
he hair band flew up in the front as well.

  “Yay! The butt is done,” Halcyon said. “Now we just have to pull it up to your chest and back down over your thighs and you’re ready for the dress.”

  Marina winced as the top of the band rolled and dug into her stomach. “Then let’s hurry before this pushes out my breakfast.”

  “Okay, joint effort again. One big pull and we should get it. One, two, three!”

  Marina yanked the hair band as hard as she could and it flew up, coming to rest beneath her boobs.

  “Touchdown!” Halcyon yelled.

  Marina lowered her arms and tried to respond, but she was out of air. She tried to suck in a breath but there was no room in the hair band. She lifted her boobs with her hands and tried again, but still nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” Halcyon looked at her in the mirror.

  Marina opened her mouth and pointed to it.

  “Now you’re hungry? You’re like a three-year-old.”

  Marina shook her head. “Air,” she managed.

  A pain shot through her left side and continued through to the right and down to her privates. Everything inside her was in a bind. This was never going to work.

  “Off,” she croaked.

  “Are you kidding me? I think I sprained my wrist.”

  “Can’t breathe. Something wrong.”

  Marina swayed and Halcyon popped around her and stared at her face, her eyes widening.

  “Oh my God, you’re ghost white. Don’t pass out! Pull!”

  She moved to Marina’s back again and they both yanked at the hair band, but everything ground to a halt when they reached her waist. There, the entire thing clenched in a rolled-up ball. Pain ripped through Marina’s stomach and she doubled over.

  “You have to stand up to get it off,” Halcyon said.

  “Cut it.”

  “I paid forty dollars for that.”

  “I’ll give you a hundred to cut it off of me.”

  “Fine. Where are your scissors?”

  “No scissors. You’ll never get them underneath this and if you move wrong or I have a gas pain, you’ll stab me. Get the utility knife from the kitchen drawer.”

  “You want me to use a razor?”

  “I want you to use a razor very, very carefully. Just cut at it from the outside until it’s weak enough to break.”

  Halcyon grabbed the utility knife from the kitchen and walked back into the bedroom, wearing an apprehensive look. Snooze poked his head around the door, then immediately turned and fled. Marina couldn’t blame him.

  “Okay,” Halcyon said. “Here goes.”

  Marina heard the fabric tear as the razor sliced through it and with every cut, she felt her internal organs sigh with relief. Finally, only a narrow strip remained and Halcyon hesitated.

  “It’s so small,” she said. “I don’t want to cut you but I can’t pull it out any.”

  “Just cut the outside folds. It has to rip sooner or later.”

  “Okay. Here goes. Don’t move.”

  Marina sucked in, trying to give Halcyon more space to work, and concentrated on tightening her core so she could be absolutely still. She was moderately successful. She heard the tiny rip of fabric once, then again, then a final cut and the rest of it tore apart and shot out the door and into the living room.

  Snooze yelped and she heard him scramble.

  Marina ran out of the bedroom and spotted the old hound standing at the back door, the hair band draped across his neck. He looked both confused and offended. She couldn’t blame him.

  She walked over and grabbed the wrecked garment, then dug a hundred bucks out of her wallet and took them both back to Halcyon, who was sitting on the bed, laughing so hard so she was crying.

  “Take both,” Marina said, and handed her sister the hair band and the money. “I don’t want to ever see that thing again. My insides haven’t hurt this bad since we ate burritos at that truck stop last month.”

  Halcyon shoved the scrap of fabric into her tote bag. “Keep the money. I owe you a massage or spa day or maybe a bottle of painkillers.”

  “How the heck did you wear that and breathe? Walk? Or did you just put it on for show and stand in one place until the guy of the week helped you out of it?”

  “Oh, I never let them see the hardware under the dress. I take it off in the bathroom first.”

  “You managed to get this off alone? In a small room?”

  “Yes, but that was about six months ago. I’d had the flu the week before so I think I was lighter then. And there was the whole water pill thing.”

  Marina narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Didn’t you ‘fall’ in the bathroom six months ago and sprain your wrist?”

  Halcyon blinked. “Maybe.”

  Marina shook her head. “Where’s the dress? And it better not have a corset or even a full-length zipper or I’m dragging out slacks and a silk blouse.”

  Halcyon pulled the cover off the dress and showed it to Marina. It was basic black, straight line, and sleeveless. The top plunged down a bit low for Marina’s usual style but it was dressier wear and this situation was hardly usual. Unfortunately, the length would leave it looking like a pilgrim costume on Marina.

  Halcyon saw her assessing the bottom and shoved the dress at her. “Put it on. I’ll take care of the length.”

  “You don’t sew.”

  “I have a plan.”

  Marina pulled on a bra and underwear—to hell with panty lines—then pulled the dress over her head. Halcyon took care of the small zipper on the back and Marina studied herself in the mirror. Except for the length, it wasn’t bad. Halcyon knew how to pick a cut that was flattering for a little more baggage. It probably would have looked even better with the hair band, but Marina was happy with her overall appearance.

  “That bra is great,” Halcyon said. “Really pushes the girls up into the neckline. Don’t wear a necklace. Highlight your assets. Between the awesome chest, your younger-looking face, and your hair, which I swear has grown another inch, you’ll be the talk of the party.”

  “I have a feeling I would be the talk of the party even if I wasn’t attending.”

  Halcyon pulled duct tape out of her bag and sat on the floor. “Okay, hold still for a second. I want to mark the length.”

  “You’re going to hem the dress with duct tape?”

  “It works great. Half of my skirts have duct tape on them. I need to get them in for repair but never remember until I want to wear them. Anyway, I’ll tape it up and iron it on the hem. This plan has the added advantage of allowing me to let it out and still wear the dress. If this was permanent, I’d be arrested for wearing it at this length.”

  It seemed a little short even for Marina, but she wasn’t about to argue with Halcyon. When her sister went to finish taping and press the hem, Marina touched up her makeup and hair, which had gotten a little tousled in the Great Hair Band Struggle of the Twenty-First Century. By the time she’d sprayed and tweaked everything she thought could use improvement, Halcyon was ready with the dress. She slipped it over her head, careful not to touch her hair or face, and Halcyon zipped her up. When she looked down and saw the amount of thigh exposed, the automatic desire to tug it down coursed through her. But before she could take action, Halcyon sighed and put her hands over her heart.

  “You look so gorgeous,” her sister said. “Oh my God, Marina. You’re so beautiful. You always have been but just look. Let me grab my phone. I’ve got to get a picture.”

  Marina looked in the mirror and blinked. Was that really her? She moved closer and saw the uneven hips and the bulges on her back created by her bra. Her thighs were still too big and too white, and her biceps had seen tighter days.

  She didn’t just look pretty damned good.

  She looked fabulous.

  And she wasn’t just telling herself that. She really felt it. Not just because of the skin or the hair or the push-up bra that had probably been designed by engineers at NASA, but because some
thing in her own mind shifted. She was forty-eight years old. She wasn’t supposed to have a twenty-year-old body or skin. She wasn’t supposed to look smooth in a stretchy dress. Her boobs weren’t supposed to stand at attention without serious hardware giving them a boost.

  And she was perfectly fine with that.

  No.

  She. Was. Happy.

  To hell with the media and society and commercials and magazines telling women they were supposed to look eternally young. Not only was that impossible, it was a lie. That didn’t mean she shouldn’t take care of herself, and she hadn’t done a great job of that the past several years. Putting everyone’s needs in front of her own had taken a toll. But that was all about to change. And loving herself didn’t mean she wouldn’t wear makeup or style her hair or wear clothes that suited her body type. You could love yourself and still like things to look a certain way. But it would all be within reason.

  For the last several years, she’d watched a handful of senior women in town, and had always admired how attractive they remained, even though they were in their sixties and seventies. Dottie was one of them. And certainly, she was always impeccably turned out, which helped. But it struck Marina now that the reason those women were so attractive wasn’t because they were what would be considered traditionally beautiful. It was because of the way they carried themselves. It was because of the way they felt about themselves. Their confidence made them more attractive, just like neediness and uncertainty could make a naturally beautiful person look less than what they were.

  It was so simple. Yet so difficult to achieve because it meant embracing all her “flaws.”

  Marina was ready.

  It was her time.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Marina knew she was gawking like a teenager, but the man standing on her doorstep was so handsome in his custom black suit. He’d been dressed well in court but had looked the part of the lawyer then. Now he was totally Bayou James Bond—sexy and dangerous. But more important was how he was staring at her.

  There was no disguising his appreciation. The long lingering gaze, the slow smile.

  “You look fantastic,” he said.