‘You sound so much Dorian,’ I said, smiling. ‘OK. I’ll try my level best.’
‘Excellent. I will hold you to that, Lily. We have an appointment for your Brazilian blowout right here in town. I’ve been Yelping, and apparently there is not one decent stylist in Cambridge. Truly shocking. What do those poor Harvard co-eds do at the last second?’
‘Brazilian blowout?’ I pictured some lady waxing and ripping at my ladybits with a teeny air conditioner unit blowing between my legs. ‘That’s OK. I’d rather shave.’
‘Good Lord, Dewitt. From which planet have you joined us?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a hair treatment, and you will love. Within a mere two hours this mop will be so smooth, healthy and shiny that you won’t recognise yourself. Please trust me on everything today. I know what I’m doing.’
‘I’ve got major trust issues.’
‘I said trust me, not trust my brother.’
‘Fair play.’
‘Excellent. I will be down in the lobby having my luncheon tea while Gorelle fits you. Apologies in advance for her faux-French accent. If you should crave some quality entertainment, ask Madame Gorelle precisely from which part of France she hails.’ Beatrice looked at her fingernails. ‘She has a different story every time. They improve with time.’
‘Noted.’ The full meaning of her statement sunk in. ‘Wait. Is she, like, a Holder staple? Not some random lady you leased outta Somerville?’
‘What did I tell you about saying “like”?’
‘To not.’
‘Correct. Just enjoy her. Oh, wait.’ She unzipped her purse and handed me an envelope.
‘What’s this?’ I ripped at the seal.
‘Your HIPPA release forms. Fill them out after you have been fitted.’
‘Goddamn. He wasn’t kidding.’
‘Should this be helpful, Lily, I will review your records, and we can discuss where to go from there.’
There was a beat, a question hanging in the air.
‘Clarify, Ms Collins.’
‘Let’s see. How could I be much clearer than saying I’m giving you a “safety word” on your medical history.’ She blinked three times, and finished with ‘Anything you wish to remain private remains as such, unless it puts the other party in danger.’
‘There’s nothing you’ll find on my record that will put the other party in danger. We’re talking about Dorian, right?’
‘Will that work for you?’ She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and left without waiting for my response.
That she knew ‘safety word’ might be involved in this arrangement clarified what I already knew. This whole experience is just something Dorian Holder does. I was another number in line. Yet I resolved to keep my place. I had waited for a very, very long time.
* * *
It was a quick trip to Beacon Street, since Benton manoeuvred through Boston lunchtime traffic like a native. Which is to say that I was gripping the seat in terror the entire ride. Maybe he was having a rough day? So much aggression! I was relieved when we pulled up to a funky brick building, until I read the shingle.
‘The Twilight Hair Salon? Out of all the places in the city, this is what you pick? Will I come out sparkling and “chagrined”?’
‘Now’s not the time for you to get snooty, princess. Yelp it.’ She passed me her phone. ‘We’ll fix you up in no time. I will watch like a hawk, and, if she so much as tilts those scissors in a questionable direction, the show’s over. We’ll go someplace else. There is always something better, Lily.’
As with Dorian, you couldn’t say no to her.
Apparently, that was a Holder thing.
* * *
After Rochelle had done her hair and make-up magic – which took over two hours – she spun the chair around to face the mirror. ‘Take a look,’ she said, a note of pride in her voice.
The entire time my stylist had been slaving away, I avoided peeking in the mirror, trusting Beatrice, who only ran outside for about ten minutes to ‘get some air’. She insisted upon a low fringe bang, long layers and honey-colored highlights ‘to bring out Lily’s inner redhead’. Then came the cosmetics. And the eyebrow waxing, before which they gave me a glass of white wine and Advil, since I was a newbie. I’d never had so much done to my head since high-school slumber parties. I was slightly nauseated, watching piles of my ragged hair falling to the floor, and my eyes stung from the scent of the chemicals, and my scalp ached and burned – but I was excited. And scared. When her work was done, my head felt two pounds lighter.
‘It’s OK,’ Rochelle said, and there was the ripping sound of Velcro as she pulled off the protective poncho. ‘Really, check yourself out.’
I opened my eyes and was startled by the sloe-eyed nymphet in the mirror who looked back at me. ‘Oh, my God.’
Despite all the length Rochelle had taken off, my hair looked longer, and the mousy brown had come to life with the highlights. The heavy fringe of my bangs was cut at a slight angle, so the edges blended in smoothly with the other layers and directed attention to my eyes. As well as sculpting my brows, she had dyed my lashes and tarted me up with some smoky shadow and liner. My skin, which always struck me as pasty, glowed from a combination of the facial and the brightening makeup. My lips were tinged just slightly pink, and, using her magic brushes, blusher and some bronzing, Rochelle had sculpted me a pair of regal cheekbones. Unbelievable.
I stood and walked toward the mysterious woman in the looking glass, who was intimidating as hell with her Louboutin-enhanced height, flirty navy dress with white polka dots, and fuck-me pout.
‘Well done, Rochelle,’ Beatrice said, putting her hands on my shoulders with unexpected affection.
‘I’m not …’ I pointed to the mirror, and my eyes welled. Not only was my over-emotional state humiliating, it was about to screw up an amazing makeup job.
‘It’s all right to be stunning, Lily.’ Beatrice removed her hands quickly after saying that. Too mooshy for a Holder.
‘Girl, if you got it, flaunt it,’ agreed Rochelle, beyond pleased with the result of her labour. She looked from Beatrice to me, as we stood side-by-side. ‘Ya know, I couldn’t see it before, but now I do.’
‘See what?’ I asked, looking at Rochelle’s reflection. Hottie potential? Me neither. Cute, yes, in a bumbling sort of way. When having a sexy moment, beautiful, sort of, but, like I mentioned earlier, beautiful is just something people say, as in ‘Everyone is her own kind of beautiful’. Hence my delight when Dorian said ‘pretty’.
But hot, no.
Yet the girl in the mirror was hot. And that’s me, Lily, talking.
I was hot.
Hopefully, I still am hot, even if the wind has since been taken out of my sails.
‘The family resemblance. Beatrice mentioned you’re second cousins?’
‘Once removed,’ Beatrice added, winking at me. ‘Happy belated birthday, cuz.’
‘Oh.’ I smiled, feeling shy. ‘Thank you.’
Dammit, I was starting to like Beatrice Collins.
For the record, there is no resemblance between Beatrice and myself. It’s just that I’ve realised I’m a bit lovely. Like Dorian also said. Who knew?
Beatrice clapped me on the shoulder in a chummy manner that didn’t seem natural. It made me miss Gwen horribly.
‘Don’t get egotistical just yet,’ she advised. ‘Over-confidence always leads to a fall.’
Still, Beatrice. Ms Collins, rather.
As though on cue, I wobbled. Heels would still take some getting used to.
But, for the record, I did not fall.
It’s OK to be stunning, Lily.
* * *
Beatrice Collins alternated between phone and iPad the entire ride to Harvard Square. At one point she did some clicky thing to shut off her Bluetooth, long enough to let me know the building management company had approved redesigning my apartment to include a walk-in closet, without a rent increase. To accommodate my amazeballs new wardrobe, ya se
e. ‘Per your lease, they need to give you 24 hours’ notice, Lily, but with your permission can enter earlier. Do you permit premature entrance?’
‘So I can’t go home for a week while they build me a stupid closet and cover my personal belongings with sheetrock dust? No, actually, I don’t give permission,’ I huffed, ‘for premature entrance.’
She sighed, patient and impatient at the same time. ‘Lily –’
‘I get how this works, how your brother will put me up at a five-star hotel indefinitely, but I would like the option of sleeping in my own bed. Or my own mattress and boxspring set, rather.’
See, I didn’t have a bed. But my mattress and boxspring, also freebies, those I had. For the record, I was quite comfy.
‘Are you trying to vex me, Lily? No wonder Dorian is so taken with your polished, nobly impoverished charms.’
‘Leave Apollyon and your brother out of this, for once, and speak to me as though I were a person, not a business arrangement. Please?’ I stared at her, incredulous. ‘Is that unreasonable?’
‘Hold, thank you,’ Beatrice said to whoever was waiting and pressed a button. ‘The company can have a walk-in closet built within the afternoon. This is Cambridge, not Somerville.’
‘Revere.’
‘Just say yes and let me finish my business. I’ve got a long week ahead of me, and whether you’ll allow home improvements is not my number-one priority.’
‘It’s been two months since I asked my landlord to fix the funky wiring in my bathroom, and sparks still fly when I turn on my blowdryer.’ I tried to catch her eye, but she avoided me. ‘What gives?’
‘That’s highly illegal.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps a whistleblower got involved and your slumlord is trying to renovate fast and furious to follow Mass State tenants’ rights guidelines.’
‘That’s highly unlikely,’ I mimicked.
‘So, yes, it’s fine for them to send in and get some contractors to throw together a new closet and fix your bathroom wiring?’ She ignored my rudeness. ‘That is what I am hearing you say.’
‘Well, about my bedroom. Ya see, I haven’t cleaned, recently.’ Perhaps I should have been picturing the all-round messiness of my lair, but all I could really picture was the impressive vibrator resting on my mattress. Snuggled under the quilt Gamma sewed me. Jesus jumped-up Christ.
‘They don’t care. What, do you have a bunch of pharmaceuticals lying around?’ Her eyes brightened, and I felt myself becoming more interesting to her. ‘Not that I would judge you for that. But what do you have there?’
‘No, and nothing.’ There was a little baggie of cheap weed in my freezer, but that’s hardly grounds for eviction anywhere. Plus, why would builders be snooping around in my freezer? ‘I guess, if you tell them to just throw all my old clothes on the bed, I’ll sort through them later.’
‘Why would you need your old clothes?’ Beatrice wrinkled her nose, as though I’d said that I wanted to keep a pet cockroach. ‘No offence, but why not just have them dropped at Goodwill and take the tax write-off?’
‘Firstly, I don’t make enough money to even need a tax write-off. Secondly, there are items of sentimental value amongst my not-so-worldly goods. Not that you or Dorian Holder would understand anything like that.’ Granted, I never wore any of the sweaters my grandmother knitted for me, but I did take them out and smell them from time to time. Chanel Number Five, mothballs and baby powder. Also, there … well, there was just stuff that meant a lot to me. ‘Have them put anything in the closet on my bed, and I’m cool with whatever else. Also, no one can open either the antique trunk or the drawers of my bedside table.’
‘Obviously I’m going to have to set you up with a personal organiser as well.’ Beatrice sighed. ‘You know, Lily, it’s all just shit. The things we carry have no weight beyond the physical.’
‘Said the girl wearing shoes that cost two grand.’
‘And I would give them to a homeless lady, if she needed them. Also, may I add, you are wearing matching heels? Point is, don’t get attached to things, Lily. Don’t get attached to people. Inevitably, you will be disappointed. Just …’ She took a breath. ‘Don’t get attached. Period. Now, I’ve got to give this gentleman an answer – he’s been on hold this entire time. So what’s it going to be?’
‘I suppose. Yeah.’
‘Yes. Good, then.’
Ever notice how people doing the Bluetooth thing look as though they are talking to themselves? I hate it. Walk down the sidewalk and try to just be in the world, One-Percenters. Don’t yabber. You look bonkers. Beatrice mumbled a bunch of boringness as we rode along.
The Charles River ran high and bossy that afternoon. I swiped at my new bangs, which felt tickly and foreign on my skin, while ‘Ms Collins’ was on yet another call. It made a 20-minute ride last for ever. Yickity-yack. While she was talking to some broker, I tried to follow what she was saying, because this is how people make money, and gave up at some point. Who the hell cared? Any time I tried to say something to her, she held up her index finger in a ‘just a second’ gesture.
Jaz Dewitt would have had no time for this woman-girl, and thinking of my mother gave me a pang of guilt. Dorian had been right: I really should’ve called Ma so she could say happy birthday and ask me a bunch of annoying questions.
That’s what love does.
Meanwhile, Gwen still wasn’t answering any of my texts, and – pathetic as it sounds – I was feeling lonely and wanted to chat with anyone, even Beatrice Collins. After all, she did just kind of give me a makeover.
‘Do you ever get offline?’ I asked, as she hit send at one point.
‘Pretty much not,’ she replied, typing away. ‘Know what, Lily? I need tea. For a five-star hotel, the MO left something to be desired. Teabags in the lobby? Great first impression, for what’s supposed to be Boston’s finest. Bitch, please.’
Pretty sure she was trying to relate to me with the ‘Bitch, please’. Which was kind, no matter how supercilious.
‘Too bad. For what it’s worth, the kitchen really is fantastic, and maybe they were having an off morning in the lobby. They brought us mint tea last night. Fresh from the herb garden out back. It was sublime.’ The wistful note in my voice wasn’t lost on me, but I hoped she’d miss it. ‘Uh, also, the spa café brought out pot after pot of jasmine and green. Gwen and I –’
‘Don’t tell me anything about last night, and we are finished talking about tea. I just make arrangements, do paperwork, push people around and lecture my idiot brother about maybe not further complicating his life.’ She sighed. ‘But he is so dramatic. Always has been. Then he hires me to go clean up his messes before they end up in the tabloids, eventually making their way to Forbes. Which, for the record, is the thinking man’s People. Dorian Holder is an attention whore. Google him, if you don’t believe me.’
I’d resisted Googling Dorian Hartley Holder, CEO, knowing it would just give me more obsession material. ‘Does he make a hab–’
‘Just be quiet for two minutes, Lily.’
OK, I got it. Exactly what I feared was happening, just confirmed in a most callous manner. The thing is, you can’t act shocked. You can’t act hurt. That’s something Jaz taught me that has actually proved valuable over the years. The facts, sir, just the facts. If you’re going to obsess, obsess privately. That mind virus? Fine and dandy, but don’t go too far based on another’s rumour or speculation. The more I knew of Dorian, the more I saw that the fewer questions asked, the better. Beatrice Collins was not someone I placed any faith in, but her words stung.
Peeking over Beatrice Collins’s shoulder and finding that she was looking for tea houses, I said, ‘Instead of Yelp, you could ask me. I’m a townie.’
‘Oh!’ Beatrice looked surprised. ‘And then she was cultured.’
Frankly, I think she was more surprised by my lack of response to her Dorian disclosure. She was trying to get a rise out of me, no matter how true her words might have been.
Hot and
cold must run in the family. Keeps people at arm’s length.
‘Yeah, I sort of live here, you know.’ Benton was cruising by the Yard, and the familiarity of old brick buildings haunted by Ghosts of Scholars Past flooded me with relief. Home.
‘Yes, of course.’ Ms Collins decided to humour me. ‘What do you recommend, Ms Dewitt?’
‘Tealuxe,’ I said, without hesitation. ‘You need to unwind and possibly unplug.’
‘Fair enough.’ Beatrice gave me a sidelong glance. ‘Though I know you just want to get all girly and interview me about my brother. To save you some time, all Holder family secrets are vaulted. Also, I have no interest in becoming friends with you. Not only are friends high maintenance, there’s always an ulterior motive if someone tries getting close to a Holder.’
‘No, actually, I just want to read my horoscope, write, people-watch and veg out for a while before meeting the ballet dancer lady. Is that cool?’
‘It will have to be,’ Beatrice said. ‘Seeing as Dor told me to do whatever you asked, which is pretty despicable on his part, I’ll follow your directive. Also, don’t you think it is a tad late in the day for horoscopes?’
‘Best to read them in the afternoon and see how you’re doing so far, given what the planets have thrown your way.’
‘Or not.’
Her slight sneer did not dissuade me from my theory.
‘Maybe your horoscope said, “Today you will choose to be a bitch, when you could have just enjoyed not being stuck in a tall grey building of miserable people.”’ Whoops. Yeah, I said that.
‘Hmm.’ She could not hide her smile. ‘I never connected with the Sagittarius profile, except that I constantly have to find somewhere else to be.’
‘You travel a lot?’
‘I used to. Been staying pretty close to home these days.’
‘Home?’
‘Telluride. I own a resort.’
‘Of course you do.’
‘Are you trying to be annoying?’ Finally, she closed her laptop. ‘What do you “write”, anyway, Lily? Are you a blogger?’
‘You mean besides my job as a copywriter? Oh, OK. Random observations and reflections on napkins and other scraps, which I throw away immediately afterwards.’ Then I decided to kick down. ‘OK. I crumple them up, stuff them in my bag or a pocket and store them in my secret trunk when I get home. The trunk I asked to be left alone. When I’m around forty I want to put them all together in a collage.’
Reaching Lily Page 17
