Page 91 of Holiday Star
It takes over an hour to complete our metamorphosis, but when I look at my reflection afterward, I know it was worth every minute.
Caleb joins me in the bathroom, staring into the full-length mirror on the back of the door. He’s dressed the same, but his face is different. A prosthesis glued to his skin and painted with make-up makes his slim nose bigger. It flattens his sharp cheekbones so they look generic. He wears a dark wig, fit so closely to his head that you would never question if it’s real. That black hair sets off his eyes, the contrast making them spark even more brightly blue.
My wig is red and long, hanging in glossy waves down to my mid-back. They didn’t use a prosthesis on my face since I’m not so recognizable, but Joal is a genius with make-up. She’s given me wide, smoky eyes. Outlining my lips with a thick red pencil and filling them in with the same color of lipstick has them looking as luscious as a ripe cherry.
Phase two complete. My plan is finished.
“Well, hell,” Caleb says. “This has to be the best date in the world, and we haven’t even left yet.”
We smile at each other in the mirror.
Caleb’s eyes run over my body with admiration, sparking into flaming heat. “You look hot,” he purrs close to my ear. The resulting jolt of desire shocks me, making my limbs twitch. “Like a superhero, that’s how you look. Like you’re ready to go kick some butt.”
“That’s because I am,” I tease. “Your butt.”
61
Armed with our new appearances, we leave my apartment, exiting out the back door and into the warmth of spring.
I shake my head languidly from side to side, liking how my wig swishes prettily over my shoulders. Caleb laughs and gives a quick tweak of the artificial hair. “Red looks good on you.”
His comment brings up an old memory. “When I was doing my interviews for medical school, I had one in Ohio. A radiology resident interviewed me there. She had gorgeous, long, red hair. I’ll never forget it. Her name was Tiffany Hart. Isn’t that a funny name? Dr. Hart?”
“Hmm,” he murmurs lazily. “That is a funny name. No matter how nice her hair was, though, there’s no way she’s more gorgeous than you are right now.”
I blush from the compliment and how Caleb can’t keep his eyes off me. “Maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t want you to be disappointed when I go back to blonde.”
“Your hair could be indigo for all I care, and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
I have to stop myself from skipping down the sidewalk, reminding myself that this isnotmy boyfriend. No matter how sweet he’s being, I can’t endanger my heart just yet. He was nice in California too…right before he dumped me.
Take it slow.
“What’s your plan?” I quirk an eyebrow at Caleb, daring him. “I’m the only one contributing to this date so far. It’s time for you to take over.”
He smirks back and says vaguely, “I’ve got some ideas.”
“Oh? Do you now?” I’m trying to act cool but failing miserably. I want to shake him and demand that he tell me everything, but I attempt to contain my enthusiasm.
“I may or may not have arranged some things.” He’s all mysterious.
“First activity is close by, right here in the park,” Caleb announces. He grabs my hand, and I let him. Swinging it between us, we cross the street and head into the leafy greenery that is Central Park.
It’s as if we have walked into an enchanted wood. Now that winter has passed, the rain and melted snow have brought out all the flowers. Fields of tulips bloom, red, pink, and yellow. The cherry trees arch over our heads, their pale blossoms falling like colorful rain to land in our hair and on our shoulders.
Caleb picks one out of my wig and hands it to me with a flourish. I tuck the tiny flower into my pocket. Later I’ll press it between the pages of a book so I can keep it as a memento.
We wander the curving paths, nodding hello to the strangers we pass. Our disguises must be working because nobody gives us a second glance. We’re just two nondescript people taking a stroll in the park. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.
I had thought our route was random, but when we arrive at the lake and Caleb sends me a satisfied smirk, I realize that he’s been leading me all along. Guiding me to this place, the Loeb boathouse.
It’s a long building with white columns, striped awnings, and a green patina-coated roof. The structure’s reflection wavers in the mossy water of the large lake in front of it. At the shoreline there are paddle boats, rowboats, and gondolas, all tied together in a neat line. Their noses bob gently in the wake.
Caleb speaks with a man at the counter, and, before I know it, the staff pulls a shallow, weathered rowboat out for us. Caleb holds my hand, steadying me as I climb in. The boat wobbles, tipping dangerously to the side until we find our balance, sitting on rough wooden benches directly across from each other.
“If I’d known I was going to work out today, I would have worn my exercise gear,” I grumble good-naturedly, smiling to let him see I’m joking.
“Don’t worry. I promise to do all the rowing.” He settles on the bench that has paddles attached to its side. With a mighty heave of his shoulders, he pushes us away from the shore and moves us out, heading deeper into the lake.
