“Yeah, but it takes me ten times as long to get ready in the morning, which means that I’m going to have to get up much earlier next week if I want to look decent.”
“Can you believe it? After two years of working as a waitress, you’re finally able to step it up.”
“It’s still surreal, and I don’t want to jinx anything, so let’s not talk about this new job. Let’s focus on finding a dress for this party you insist I come to.”
My answer is rewarded with cheers and hoots.
“Miranda, I have to agree with my little sister. Every time I see you I totally have hair envy. God might have given us height, but she was very cruel when it comes to the Edgewood sisters’ locks. She gave us baby-fine hair that’s nearly impossible to style. I guess she was too busy giving you all the good stuff. Thank God for extensions,” Michelle says with a huge grin on her face. “Listen, honey, I had Nikki pull a few great pieces for you. She’s still in the back room getting everything ready, but I’m sure you’re going to be pleased with our selections. You really lucked out this week because a lot of celebrities of all sizes came in with hundreds of items of clothing. We also got a client dropping off designer shoes in your size. The best part they’ve never been worn once. You get first dibs and of course you get the family discount.” She winks.
“Thank you so much, Michelle. You’re the best.”
“It was crazy busy this morning, not that I’m complaining because business is good. Luckily things have slowed down a bit so I’ll be able to keep a watchful eye over you while Nikki helps you find the perfect dress that’ll knock ’em all dead tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Michelle.” I grimace. “I’m just hoping to find something that fits this body and that doesn’t look too matronly.”
“As if I’d ever allow you to walk out of my boutique looking like an unfashionable old lady.” Michelle looks almost offended by my suggestion.
“I mean, I don’t have as many options as you and Jess do,” I babble.
“See, Michelle, I told you she’d put herself down before even stepping into the first design.”
My best friend Jessica stands five feet eight and has fashion-friendly A-cup breasts. She wouldn’t have the slightest clue how challenging it is to dress a petite woman like myself. Every single time we go shopping together, we butt heads. The reality is that most designers don’t cater to a petite woman with 34DD breasts and a big round butt—both courtesy of my Nona Antonina. My grandfather, Allen Palmer, always loves to joke that I’ve inherited my figure from his Italian bride. He’s always quick to remind me women on his side of the family don’t have my grandmother’s enviable curves and I should be proud of mine. As much as I love my grandfather, it’s impossible for me to explain to him that most men prefer figures like Jessica’s and her model sister’s. He just wouldn’t understand.
“I don’t want anybody to be disappointed if we can’t find the right dress. That’s all,” I retort, slightly annoyed.
Michelle, who is five ten, grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me closer to her. “You should know by now that I’m a miracle worker when it comes to fashion and so is Nikki. Did we not find you tons of amazing work clothes a couple weeks ago right after you found out you got that amazing new position?”
“Michelle, that was different. We’re talking about a skirt here, a dressy tee-shirt there, a few blouses, pants and a couple smart blazers, but an evening dress is a whole other ball game.”
“You’re worrying your pretty little head for no good reason. We’ll find something that looks smashing on you.” She just loves using that British term. “I stake my reputation on it,” she adds when she sees me pinch my lips together. “If I had been blessed with your huge boobs, I’d never complain. You may think that being tall is the be-all and end-all, but I’d gladly give an organ in exchange for your tatas.” She laughs.
“Okay, you win.”
“That’s the attitude. Make yourself comfortable. Ray just went across the street to get us all some much-needed caffeine. Unless he’s flirting with that cute blond barista again, he should be back any minute now.” Michelle drags me to a high-backed zebra-print chair next to the matching one my best friend is already sitting on. She’s pretending to flip through a magazine with her left leg crossed over her right, but as soon as I approach, she flashes me a told-you-so look that speaks volumes.
I’ve known Jessica Edgewood for the better part of my life. We’re both from Savannah and we’ve been neighbors since we were twelve when I moved back down South with my mom to live with my former stepdad.
Jessica has always known that she wanted to be a makeup artist. Two and a half years ago, her sister started tapping into her connections to get her a number of really interesting gigs out here. For a while she was traveling back and forth because she was desperately trying to make a name for herself. The trips were exhausting because sometimes she’d get called at the last minute and she’d have to take the red eye from Savannah to a Hollywood set at the drop of a hat. After six months, she decided to start planning her move to California. It didn’t take much convincing on her part for me to follow her. Since my dreams of becoming a chef had been shattered, I hoped that Los Angeles would offer a fresh new start.
We moved here together two years ago. Michelle, Jessica’s older sister, has been living out here for much longer. She’s ten years older than we are. After a somewhat successful career in modeling and in the movies, she opened Glam Studio, a popular consignment shop, five years ago in Venice Beach. Her connections and easy access to celebrities and models have paid off big time for her because a lot of them visit her shop when it comes time for them to let go of old clothing. Of course in the world of the rich and famous, ‘old’ often means barely worn. Most times the items are brand new and rich women bring them in with tags still attached. Amazing. In my world, it means striking gold at a price that fits my budget.
“So how was your morning at the—”
“Miranda, darling, love the hair.”
Nikki, Michelle’s assistant, waltzes in from the backroom, interrupting my best friend in mid-sentence.
“Hey, Nikki. Thanks. I just got it done.”
“Colton?” she asks, rolling in a rack of clothing.
“Jessica insisted on it.”
“I swear to God, the man has magic fingers. Pun very much intended.” We all laugh. “As much as I’d hope that my advances would have him change camps, even for one day, I’ve resigned myself to the brutal reality that he’s gay.” She sighs.
“Uh-huh.” All four of us nod in unison.
Michelle’s assistant, Nikhol Holt, is the type of all-American girl from Cali I’d normally hate—tall, thin, sandy blonde wavy hair cut in the perfect long bob, piercing blue eyes, dimples, small boobs that fit into anything without ever looking indecent, a nonstop smile and of course perfectly aligned white teeth. She has the Los Angeles casual-chic style down pat. I guess her nerdy-girl glasses are her way of giving us mere mortals a respite from her gorgeousness. As much as you’d like to despise her for being born this way, you can’t. Despite her stunning looks, Nikki is an absolute sweetheart and she hasn’t got a clue how often men have whiplash when she walks by.
“I honestly think that every woman in LA has tried at least once to seduce Colton, but has failed miserably,” Michelle says pensively. “I stopped a long time ago because I’m very happy in my relationship with Dominic, but I agree with Nikki, it would be like hunting season if that man were ever to declare that he’s open to women… even for twenty-four hours.”
“Well, I haven’t tried,” I say. “Even if he were straight, he’d be totally out of my league.”
“Girl, we so need to work on that self-confidence of yours,” Nikki scolds. “When you see what I have lined up for you, you’ll be able to get any man you want wrapped around your little finger at this party tonight.”
“I’m happy you’re the one who came down hard on her instead of me for a
change,” Jess says, looking up from her magazine.
“Don’t worry, Jessica. Give me an hour and we’ll transform this little insecure pumpkin into a smoldering hot Victoria’s Secret model wannabe.”
As if. I snicker to myself at Nikki’s comment.
“Ready?” she asks defiantly. Contrary to what I was hoping, my reaction doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got,” I answer semi-enthusiastically. The sooner we get started, the sooner this nightmare can be over.
I’m just about to step into the changing room when the front door swings open.
“I swear to God I’m totally in love with that guy. I’m just not sure how to let him know.” Ray Lockhart, Michelle’s distinguished salesperson, walks in carrying a cardboard tray with five tall coffee drinks.
“You still haven’t mustered up the courage to ask the sexy barista out for a date?” Michelle asks.
“Would I be this miserable had I had enough balls? He’s giving off a gay vibe, but I’m still not one hundred percent sure he is. I don’t want to take a chance until I’m certain,” Ray responds, dropping the coffees on a small table in front of where Jessica is still sitting. I nearly sprint in his direction. He sees me coming and grabs a cup before I do. He turns his attention to me and smiles. “This one’s for you, sweetheart. It’s extra caliente.” He winks before dropping two small Euro-style kisses on each cheek.
“You’re the best, Ray.” I thank him.
“Evidently I’m not, since I’m not even able to tell if the object of my obsession could possibly be into me or if he prefers pussy.” Ray turns his lips downwards and sulks.
Michelle snakes around the counter where she was standing and approaches us. “You bring forth a really good point. You definitely need to know which way this guy swings. You don’t want to be barking up the wrong tree. That said, you’re going to have to turn that pout up and I need you to put your smiley face on because right now it’s all about Miranda, not Ray.”
The tall, elegant, impeccably dressed man faces me again. “Miranda, honey, I’m so sorry for taking over like that,” he says, hugging me with care—since I’m still holding on to my coffee—before pulling himself away from me. “Don’t mind me. I’m just being a bitchy gay guy who’s totally infatuated and too scared to admit it.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Ray. I’m in the same boat.” I sympathize before sipping my piping hot latte.
“Julian Wilkas? You still haven’t made a move on him?”
“I haven’t had the courage to go after him, Michelle. And now that I’m no longer working at Lola’s Paradise, I’ve pretty much given up all hope. Two years of unrequited lust. Can you imagine?” I take another gulp, wishing it was laced with brandy or something.
“Julian is a blind fool,” Jess shoots without lifting her eyes from the Vogue magazine that’s captured her attention.
“Come on, Jessica, the man is a young stud and aspiring musician in one of the hottest indie bands in the city. Let’s not forget, he’s inked with some of the coolest tattoos I’ve ever seen. Everything is effortless about him, even his edgy asymmetric haircut. He has female groupies lining up around the restaurant when he works just to ogle at him. He’s twenty-four, single, straight, gorgeous and every woman he meets falls hard for him. Why would he pay any attention to me even if I’ve been under his nose for the last two years?”
Jessica opens her mouth to answer, but Nikki jumps in first. “More reasons for us to find you the right dress so that you can seduce one of the other eligible bachelors you’ll meet tonight.”
“Nikki’s right, honey. There’s no better time for you to bounce back. Fuck Julian. You’re stepping up with your career, it’s also time to step it up with the kind of man you’re interested in. Kevin confirmed that the crème de la crème will be out at this party. In a few hours, you’ll be surrounded by dreamy athletes and you won’t remember the name of that tattooed musician.” Jessica grins, lifting her coffee cup up as if to toast her revelation.
Kevin O’Keefe is the other reason why Jess moved from Savannah to Los Angeles. She met him on the set of a movie where she had been hired as a junior makeup artist. She had landed the most coveted job on the planet. Kevin was the stunt double for a big Hollywood celebrity and Jessica was responsible for coating his body in oil and touching up his makeup for a scene that looked like it came straight out of Gladiator. By the time the movie had wrapped, Kevin and Jessica were inseparable. After a few months of a long-distance relationship, Kevin asked her to move in with him in LA.
Kevin is a former US Navy SEAL and former champion MMA fighter. After paying his dues, he’s now one of the most sought-after fight coordinators in Hollywood. The biggest directors hire him to create kickass scenes for their blockbuster movies. He’s the same age as Michelle, but they’re totally in love and he’s completely devoted to her.
“In you go,” Nikki says, waving a bright satiny dress at me and pointing a finger towards the dressing room.
There’s no point arguing. I drink one more sip, drop my coffee cup on the table, grab the dress she’s holding and walk into the changing room clinging onto the first design.
“I’ve asked Kevin to introduce you to a few guys he knows. Some are his buddies and others are just stars in their field. You’ll have a plethora of choices tonight,” Jessica chimes.
“What?” I screech from behind the closed doors. “What’d you do that for?” This night is going to be dreadful. Jessica’s taste in men is very different from mine. I love Kevin to pieces, but I’d never see myself dating him.
“We need to put an end to your dry spell.”
“It’s not a dry spell,” I shout back, embarrassed.
Okay, maybe it is. Does she have to make it public?
“What else do you call it?”
“I’ve just been picky, Jess,” I grumble.
“When was the last time you went out on a date?”
“You know perfectly well. It was last week. I went out with Curtis Munro.”
“You mean one of the waiters you used to work with when you did those evening events, right?”
“Yup.”
“Are you seeing him now?”
I roll my eyes. When Jess starts asking questions she knows the answers to that usually means I’m in trouble. “I told you it was the longest coffee date of my life and there was no way I was going out with him again. He might be cute, but he has absolutely zero personality.”
“I agree. No point wasting time with him, but if I recall correctly you also said the same thing about that other guy from your catering job. The one who’s a bartender.”
“Henry wasn’t much better. He seemed interesting enough at work, but during our first date he talked nonstop. He never asked me any questions about myself. It was like sitting back and watching the Henry Wallace show.”
“And that was about a month ago?”
“Yeah.” Okay, so I don’t get out much.
“Anyone since Curtis?”
I jump back, surprised because Jess’s voice is suddenly so close. I crack open the door and she’s standing in front of the changing room.
“I’ve been busy working,” I huff. “Not to mention why bother getting all dressed up, doing my hair, and slapping makeup on my face if I already know the date is unlikely to go anywhere?”
“Okay, let’s get straight to it. When was the last time you had sex?”
“Jessica!” I’m taken aback by her effrontery. How could she?
“Mimi, we’re all family here.”
“You know it annoys me when you call me that.”
“Okay. Miranda, honey, we all know about each other’s intimate life. Spill it. Everything I know I learned from my big sister.”
“You know it’s been a while.” I nearly whisper my response. I’m mortified.
“Exactly my point. You need to get some. Soon.”
“Maybe she’s going for that whole new trend of
being a born-again virgin? I hear it’s popular among straight women. Men—gay or straight—would never fall for that.” Ray chuckles.
It’s really not intentional. I’ve just had the shittiest luck with men.
“Oh, honey, please don’t even think about going down that road. Take it from me. You want to make sure you test-drive the merchandise before you buy it. I’m not saying to sleep with every cock that walks your way, but do not enter a committed relationship without knowing that you’re on the same sexual wavelength,” Michelle exclaims before taking the first sip of her coffee.
“Amen.” Ray, Nikki and Jessica chime in at the same time.
I don’t even have to look at myself in the mirror to know that my cheeks are flaming red. “There’s nothing wrong with me waiting for the right one.” Okay, it’s a feeble attempt at saving face, but it could technically be true.
“Bullshit,” Michelle snaps. “How are you going to know he’s the right one if you don’t put yourself out there? Remember Philip?”
“Of course.” How can anyone ever forget him?
“I held out for the first four months while we were dating and he was patient. When I felt we were entering something solid, I gave in. Things fizzled real fast when I found out when he was hardcore about all this kinky BDSM shit. It works for some people, but I like my sex without chains and whips. Thank God I wasn’t married to him. Can you imagine finding out after tying the knot?”
“Exactly,” Jess shouts, waving her finger at me. “Miranda, you don’t want to end up in that boat.” She’s all over me now.
“Six months ago, I did put myself out there and if you remember correctly those months when I delusionally thought that I could find my dream guy on the Internet were the worst of my life. My profile clearly stated that I was looking for a long-term relationship. Most of the guys who contacted me were looking for a one-night fuck. I thought I would have better luck with guys I work with, but Curtis and Henry proved me wrong. Guys our age are awkward at best and let’s be honest, online dating absolutely sucks.”
Fixated Page 7
