Page 70 of Dirty Little Secret
Getting into my car, I looked in the mirror on the back of the sun visor, checking myself out. My makeup was thick, over the top. I was wearing false eyelashes, and I’d plumped up my lips using the most expensive plumper I could afford. My hair was curled in a way that accentuated the blue streaks. This was not a look I would associate with a responsible mother.
“You are the mother of Fox Price. You have got to get yourself together for that boy.” I looked in that mirror and swore I would never again see such a childish face looking back at me.
Glancing around the shopping center, I found a hair salon and drove straight to it. Marching inside, I spotted a flamboyant male hairdresser. He spotted me too, and he stood there, looking at me with his hand on his hip. “Oh, honey, please tell me you’re here to let me make you over.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’m the mother of a ten-year-old boy. I need you to make me look like it.”
“You don’t happen to have any pictures of you with your natural hair color, do you?” he asked me as he pushed his hand through his own thick head of dark hair.
Pulling out my cell, I wiggled it at him. “I do.”
Two hours later, I emerged with a bare face and a head full of the same brown hair that I’d had in high school. The hairdresser had even added in caramel highlights that looked exactly like the ones I’d had naturally back then. The cut was still long, but fell in gentle waves.
Now all I needed were the right clothes, and I’d finally feel like a mom.
I got back in my car and drove down the highway until I spotted the sign that led me to Jordan and Jane. The price tags were a bit on the scary side, but the quality and style were worth it. Finally, this was exactly what I’d been looking for.
I left the store with a bag full of outfits that would make any kid proud to call me Mom. Sensible shoes, pants that fit just right, though not too tight, and shirts that covered me up respectably.
Once I got home, I put on some makeup, though I used it sparingly, toning it way down from the way I’d been wearing it for the past eight or so years. Emerging from my bedroom after putting on a pair of pale green slacks with a light gray, silky top and flats to match, I made Taylor’s jaw drop when she first spotted me.
“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Zandy?”
“You like?” I asked as I spun around, running my hands through my hair.
“Um, well, let’s see,” she held her chin as she looked me over. “I hardly recognize you. So there’s that. You’re very pretty. Gorgeous, even. But you’re not you.”
“I know!” I shouted with excitement. “Isn’t it great?” I skipped across the room and went to get a glass of wine. “I feel so … I guess the word is classy.”
“Yeah, you look classy.” Taylor frowned at me. “You don’t look like a cocktail waitress, Zandy.”
“I know.” I took a drink of the red wine then smiled. “It feels so cool.”
“Yeah, sure.” She seemed skeptical. “Um, how much do you think you’ll make in tips looking like that?”
Shrugging, I didn’t really care much about that. “You know I’m looking for another job, Taylor.”
“As what?” She eyed me then took my glass from my hand, stealing a drink. “A schoolmarm?”
I took my drink back. “Come on, Taylor. I don’t look that prudish. I just look better. More mature. Sophisticated, even.” I looked at myself in the mirror behind the table. “I like it. Do you think Kane will, too?”
“Sure.” She got her own glass and filled it to the brim with wine. “I would guess that he likes women who look like you. Old.”
“Old?” I gave my reflection another look. “I don’t look old. I don’t have any wrinkles or blotchy skin.” I ran my hands over my boobs. “No sagging tits. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She flopped down on the sofa. “Not, like, physically old. Like mentally old. You know?”
“Mature?” I asked as I went to take a seat too, making sure to sit like a lady. Legs crossed at the ankles, the way the queen grandmother taught her princess granddaughter in that movie.
“Yeah, mature,” Taylor said as she gave me an eyeroll. “Boring.”
“Hm.” I looked at her then took another sip of my wine. “Now I can see why parents find the eyeroll so annoying.”
“Funny how you were rolling your eyes at me just yesterday,” she mused, “and now that you’re dressed like a nun, you’re condemning them.”
I didn’t care what she said. I wasn’t going to let her get to me. I sat there, sipping my wine with great satisfaction, knowing I would stun both Fox and Kane.
“What’s Rob gonna say, I wonder?” Taylor pondered.
