I decided to have my own movie marathon when I got home early from school yesterday, and I watched all of my favorites for the millionth time. I’d extended an invitation to Lena to join me, but she just laughed, tossing a pillow at me as she told me I was lame. Lena didn’t believe in wasting her time watching old movies when she could dress in clothes designed only to cover a minimal part of the body, flaunt herself at the hottest clubs, and end up in a hotel room doing who knows what with some handsome stranger. Even though she had invited me to come along, I kindly declined the offer, choosing to stay at home in my flannel pajamas to watch movies until midnight when the last one ended and I crawled into bed.
Any other girl would have given her right leg to have an invitation to be Lena’s sidekick. To be honest, I knew there was a side of me that would enjoy nothing more than to be right at Lena’s side at every questionable place she went, living as impulsively as I could and never thinking about the what ifs. It was the dark side of me that secretly desired to take risks regardless of what might happen. The reality was that every time Lena pressured me to do something I knew was questionable or not the right thing, she gave up a little too quickly.
I knew without a doubt that if she were to give a few more pleas or pointless arguments, I might just give in and do something that would release that inner desire that I tried so hard to suppress. I suppose that’s what scared me the most. I felt that if I gave into to that dark side I would become engulfed in it and change completely from who I was now. I felt it would overtake me completely and I would become a slave to it with no way to escape.
It made me glad that even though Lena was always breathing down my neck and pressuring me that she gave up when she did. Every time I was invited to do something I knew would not be in my best interest, an internal battle flared and I could always hear a small voice somewhere inside pleading with me to find the strength to overcome the force that threatened to overpower me. To this point I’d managed to stand my ground and make the better choice, but I could not honestly say that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I always would.
Since Lena was more like my sister than she was my friend, it was easier for me to say no than if it had been someone I felt like I needed to impress who was putting the pressure on me. If I ever did give in and do something I knew was wrong, could I still return to being myself or would it really be like I feared? Would it only take one bad decision to lose myself? I knew the good side of me didn’t want to take the risk of finding out, but it was not easy trying to stay on the straight and narrow all the time.
I’d almost slipped back into another relaxing sleep when my bedroom door flew open with such force that it slammed into the wall it was attached to. I must have jumped six inches into the air from shock as Lena stormed into the room with a look on her face that made it obvious she had an agenda.
“Out of bed! Come on now! Up and at ’em!” She shouted as she opened the curtain so that the light blinded me.
I let out a tired groan as I yawned, pulling a pillow over my head and tugging at the comforter so it came up over my neck.
“I mean it! You’re going to be late!”
With that, Lena got a death grip on the comforter and the sheet, yanking them completely off of the bed in one swift jerk of her arm; I felt a sudden chill from the air conditioner that made me curl my toes.
“Late for what?” I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes as I tried to adjust to the light.
“Let’s see, you have a nail appointment at three, a hair appointment at four, and after that we have to find what you’re going to be wearing tonight!”
“Is all this necessary? It’s just a date, not prom.”
“Just a date would be with an average high school guy taking you to grab a value meal at Burger Barn then finishing the evening with a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater. Ian is much more than that. Remember, he is eighteen, out of high school, obviously hot—otherwise I wouldn’t associate with him—and makes every guy at our school look like a sea lion.”
I felt her hands grip my ankle and pull me off the bed. As I let out a scream, I felt a draft on my back as I sailed through the air, landing right on my butt in the floor feeling violated. Before I could even rise to my feet, Lena had already made her way into the bathroom and turned the shower on.
“Okay, go get in and then brush your teeth so you don’t smell like funky morning breath and butt sweat!” Lena snapped as she waltzed back through my room.
“I don’t stink!” I shot her a look of offense.
“Well, go get in and brush your teeth anyway. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty. Don’t bother doing hair and makeup, since you will be having it redone this afternoon.” Her voice trailed off as she exited the room.
Rolling my eyes and sighing, I made my way to the shower, hanging my head in defeat; all I really wanted to do was crawl back into bed now that my tailbone ached with a fury. It was sore to touch, and I was positive a bruise had already begun to show.
After stopping for lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall place that served soup and sandwiches, Lena and I made our way to the nail shop. As much as I hadn’t wanted to peel myself out of bed today, I did love the way it felt to get a mani/pedi. There was just something about having your legs and feet pampered while sitting in that big, leather, massage chair that worked all the tension out of your back.
Lena and I always sat side by side in casual conversation as our feet were made beautiful. Once my pedicurist had painted on a lovely French pedicure that matched the French tips on my fingers, I went to join Lena at the black-light station to let them dry, admiring how pretty my hands and feet looked now that they were complete.
We barely made it to the salon to get my hair and makeup done that Lena had been so insistent upon. I know she was a little disappointed when I told both the cosmetician and beautician that I wanted to keep it natural and not look like I was trying to look older than I really was. Lena just rolled her eyes and grabbed a magazine, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to argue with me as I removed the baseball cap I’d had on.
If there was one thing I was more than firm on, it was that I did not like the idea of excessive hair and makeup. I wanted to look like myself, not a made-up beauty pageant contestant trying to look ten years older than I really was. I always thought about the time I had gone for glamour shots a few years back. When I left, my hair was so stiff it could have busted the window out of the car, and the makeup was layered on so thick my pores were screaming for help due to suffocation.
Besides, if Ian didn’t like the person I really was, then he wasn’t worth my time in the first place. I left looking natural and not much different as I had walking in, with the exception that they had used the razor on the hair around my face to put in a layered effect, which caused it to frame my face even when I wore it down.
Lena dragged me to every store she could possibly find that offered endless outfits, which I plainly stated I wouldn’t be seen dead in every time I tried a different one on. Time after time, Lena would return to the dressing room with something just as absurd as the last. I refused to try half of them on at all. Everything she picked out was too short, too low cut, too tight, or too see through.
After so many stores and being delivered so many rejects, I slipped my jeans and t-shirt back on to go look through the inventory myself. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this store had some really pretty dresses that were not even close to being the kind of hideous garbage Lena had been handing me, which had “how to wash” tags that were more covering than the garment itself. I found one that looked amazing on the hanger, so I found my size and headed back to the fitting room.
As I walked into the fitting area, it didn’t shock me to find Lena in front of a mirror trying on all the hoochie dresses she had been handing me, twirling around and looking at herself from all angles with that look on her face indicated the item she had on now was about to go onto the pile she planned on purchasing.
As I
headed into my fitting room, she mouthed something about how she couldn’t believe I hadn’t like any of the outfits she was now trying on that looked so incredible. I looked at her, cocking my head to one side, mouthing back the words “they just weren’t me” before closing the door.
Slipping into the dress, I could already tell I liked it. The design was simple and the color complemented both my hair and eyes. The dress was black satin with blue tulle over it that had spaghetti straps, a moderate neckline gathered just under the breast line, and hung loosely where it stopped four inches above my knees. The color alone made my olive skin look stunning, and the blue tulle overlaid on the black satin matched my eyes perfectly—making them illuminate my black hair that was framing my face. When I walked out, the lady who had led us to the fitting room stopped in her tracks, telling me how great of a choice the dress was for me, and asked which clerk had helped me with the selection. I told her I just saw it passing through the store and tried it on. She applauded my eye for fashion, telling me how beautiful I looked, and asking me if I was in want or need of a job because they could use someone around the store with an eye for fashion like mine.
Right then I noticed Lena lingering at the mirror, staring at the lady in the reflection as all the color drained from her face, looking insulted and confused. The lady, noticing she was standing there looking in the mirror, asked her if she was finding everything okay and then went back to the front counter without saying anything about the short, red cocktail dress Lena had on. It was obvious that Lena was insulted by the lack of attention.
“That’s the one you’re going with?” Lena asked coldly.
“Yeah, I think so. I really like the cut and the way it fits.”
“Looks like a waste of money to me,” she added, sounding irritated.
Without saying anything back to her, fearing it would only make matters worse, I returned to the fitting room and changed back into my clothes. Before leaving, I selected a pair of open-toe, black, suede heels and a set of silver jewelry with small blue stones in it for a touch of sparkle to the outfit. I checked out and waited for Lena, who had gathered all the items I had rejected and was buying them all. Her body language told me she was still mad as she hastily took out her platinum card, sliding it so hard through the card machine that it wouldn’t read the magnetic strip.
We sat in silence on the drive home, making the thirty-minute drive seem like two hours.
When we pulled into the driveway, Lena still did not say a word. She opened the garage and parked the car, not even looking at me when we entered the house. I headed up the stairs as she went to the kitchen, deciding I would just let it go. It was clear that this was something Lena needed to come to accept herself and anything I could say was not going to help the situation. Surely by the time Ian got here she would be more talkative as she introduced us and all would go back to the way I was used to.
Once I was in my room, I shut the door, glancing at the clock that hung on the wall next to the entrance of the bathroom. It was way later than I had thought it was. Ian was going to be here in half an hour. I was glad my hair and makeup were already taken care of. I took out my fantastic new dress, shoes, and jewelry.
I went to the bathroom closet and chose a light-scented, sweet-smelling lotion and lathered myself in it, making sure I covered every square inch of dry skin, then topped it off with the matching perfume. I hurriedly ran back into the bedroom and slipped into my new outfit.
Glancing at the clock, I saw that Ian would be here any minute. With a quick glance in the mirror, I slipped the heels onto my feet, fastened the necklace, and put the earrings on. I was even more impressed now that I was seeing the entire ensemble than I had been when I tried the dress on back at the store. I was still admiring the way my reflection looked when the doorbell rang, causing me to get butterflies in my stomach.
Assuming Lena would answer the door since this was, after all, a blind date she had set up, I was not in any hurry to get downstairs to the front door. I was coming down the stairs when the doorbell rang a second time, almost causing me to nearly trip and fall down the stairs as I tried to get to the bottom as quickly as possible. As soon as my feet hit the tile, I ran toward the corridor as fast as I could move in four-inch heels, grabbing the corner of the wall and nearly sliding past the entryway.
Stopping just in front of the door, I took a second to catch my breath and smooth my hair down before opening the door just in time for a hand to rise up near my face, ready to knock on the door. The person it was attached to was standing off to the side, looking toward the driveway.
Ian Bentley wore his sandy blonde hair short enough that it barely covered the tops of his ears and just long enough in the front that it would fall slightly over his eyebrows if he didn’t push it to the side. His face was slender with a defined jawbone that was more elongated than square, and he had a pretty smile. He was slightly tanned with beautiful, hazel eyes that showed his confidence. Ian looked like he was fairly toned, but his muscles were not clearly defined as Avan’s were. Wearing slacks, a button-up shirt, a sport jacket, and expensive shoes, which looked like they might be Italian leather, I had to admit he dressed well. As he focused his attention on me, he almost seemed surprised to see me there, as if he too had expected Lena to answer the door. I know I probably had a rather odd look on my face as well as I compared everything about him to Avan in my mind.
“Wow!” Ian said as he looked me up and down, causing me to blush and feel a little uncomfortable.
“Hi,” I replied, sounding a lot more confident than I felt.
“So you must be my hot date?” He was still looking into the doorway, as if he were trying to see something behind me.
“Yeah, I’m Mattie.” The way he seemed distracted made me feel a little weird. I turned around to see what he could be looking for, but I didn’t see anything.
“Right, so I guess we should get going.” He must have noticed I was catching on to him obviously looking for something I was unaware of.
“I guess so. Let me grab my purse and jacket. It’ll only take a sec.” I already had them lying on the table by the door, so it only took me no time at all to get them.
Ian was still outside, looking lost, when I came back.
“Ready to go?”
Maybe once we got in the car and started talking this wouldn’t feel so awkward.
“Let’s do it,” he said as he winked and smiled. Disturbingly, he wasn’t looking at me when he did it. Looking behind me once again, I still didn’t see anyone there. I hadn’t seen or heard from Lena since we got back to the house, so I didn’t figure she was even home.
“Did you just wink at someone?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No, I had something in my eye. I was just trying to get it out, sorry,” he responded as he turned toward the driveway, walking right past me as he opened the door and slid behind the steering wheel of his yellow Camaro.
I was really beginning to be unimpressed with Ian Bentley as he got into the car without even coming around to open my door for me. Lena had really talked Ian up, leaving me with the impression that he was going to be a well-mannered, classy gentleman. I was really starting to wonder what I’d gotten myself into when I agreed to go on this stupid date. I slid into my seat, put my seatbelt on, and laid my purse in my lap. Ian turned the ignition, and the engine roared to life. As soon as we were on the street in motion, he reached for the stereo, turning on his CD player loud enough to wake the dead.
Ian was tapping his hands on the steering wheel right along to the erratic beat of the drums. I felt like the song would never come to an end, but when it did, the next one was every bit as eardrum splitting as the last. The music itself only seemed to have one effect other than annoying me, and that was the faster the drums played, the faster and more careless Ian drove.
I felt my knuckles turn white as I dug my manicured nails into the leather shoulder strap of my purse in my lap. Ian was weaving through traffic without using his
signal, cutting people off, and speeding as if he had just stolen the car and wanted to get away from the lot before the cops could catch up to him. I closed my eyes and prayed that my life would be spared as he cut over three lanes of traffic to make an exit off the highway at the last possible second. The lights from houses, businesses, and streetlamps that lined the street were passing so quickly they all ran together, making continuous streaks of light.
The car slowed down as we headed down a busy, crowded street in the arts district, but with the music still at an ear-piercing decibel, I didn’t even attempt to make conversation. Before long, Ian turned the stereo off and pulled under the awning of a very fancy-looking restaurant. With all the noise suddenly gone, I could hear a high-pitched ringing in both ears.
My head was still pounding to the beat of whatever pathetic excuse for a song was playing last. I searched through my purse for the bottle of aspirin I always kept with me, hoping it would be enough to counteract the headache that pulsed in my head. This was one of those times that I was really glad I had it.
Before I realized it, a guy about my age in a black tuxedo opened my car door, escorted me out of the car, and told me to have a wonderful evening. Ian handed the valet driver his keys and warned him not to scratch the paint or he would make sure it came out of his paycheck. How charming! Lena had really picked out a gentleman all right. Without warning, he put his arm around my waist, making me jump and pull away from him until we were no longer touching while we moved toward the entrance. We reached the desk where the maître de—a tall, older man wearing glasses with a thin mustache and slicked down hair—asked what name our reservation was under. As Ian announced his last name, his demeanor seemed to change, as if he just remembered who he was and how he was supposed to act. The gentleman confirmed the reservation and led us to a candle lit table for two in a private room that was dimly lit by a chandelier. The maître de pulled an intricately carved wooden chair with an ivory cushion back from the table and gestured for me to have a seat. It made me a little sad that the first sign of a gentleman I encountered tonight had come from a member of the restaurant staff rather than my date. At this point I didn’t want to look at Ian much less be on a date with him. As far as I was concerned, Ian Bentley was a jerk.
Enigma Page 4
