Page 61 of SNOB

“Are you always this uptight?” I catch the reflection in the mirror as I twirl my finger around a strand of hair. Dropping my hand, I wince. I have a lot of work to do before my face matches this dress.

“It’s six-fifteen,” he says. “Don’t keep me waiting.” The call ends.

Dick.

As I rush to the bathroom, someone knocks at the door again.

“Mac?” I ask, moving to the doors. When I open them, a couple of women stand there with a small black cart filled with makeup and hair tools.

One woman eyes me from head to toe as the other pushes past me, wheeling in the cart. She sighs, “Let’s get to work.”

They push me into the bathroom past the walk-in shower and massive soaker tub. One woman sits me on a chair from the dining area, then they get started. As one styles my hair, the other tends to my makeup. Neither of them say a word while they treat me like a model getting ready for the runway. If this is what getting pampered feels like, I can get used to this. Dad and Uncle Jake always struggled with my hair as a kid. Apart from that, I’ve always tackled it.

I’m not sure how long passes before they step back, nodding to each other. “Good.” That’s the last thing they say before they wheel the cart out and leave.

Blinking at my reflection in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. But the smile that tugs at my face tells me I like it.

So what if my body isn’t like the girls in The Hill? The confidence that builds when I look at my red lips, big lashes and perfectly straight eyeliner makes me feel like a star. For the first time, my coils are straight. It almost hits my elbows, shining under the room’s soft lightning.

When the phone rings again, I don’t need to check to see who it is. After pulling on that dress, I’m out the door, not without grabbing my sketchpad. This world is still unfamiliar, and Mac is unpredictable. My sketchpad is my safety blanket. If all else fails, I can do what I usually do. Escape.

“Way to take your time, Everett.” Mac leans against that spaceship car in a full black suit, black cigarette hanging off his lip. His suit fits his body, accentuating that muscular stature. My stomach flips when he pushes back his dark strands, that one unruly curl bouncing back in front of his eye. His iron eyes wander my frame, their heat travelling right through me. “Your hair. It’s better curly.”

“Gee, thanks,” I reply. “You look like an off-brand James Bond.” I’m lying, he’s very much on brand.

He smirks, deadly in that outfit, his silky black shirt unbuttoned below his tight pecs. Together, we look like we’re in a movie, ready to hit the grand ball. His eyes follow the deep plunge of the velvet dress to the cutout on the sides. I didn’t know my body could look so hot in something like this. I always thought these dresses were better fit for someone Hannah’s size. Skinny. But this dress is made for me, hugging my curves in all the right places. And the small train that follows behind makes me feel like royalty.

“You look good.” He flicks his cigarette to the hotel driveway. My stomach twists when I see a slight twitch in his pants. Gripping my sketchpad, I hope he doesn’t make me leave it behind. “Stop wasting my time and get in.” Rolling my eyes, he opens the door. Stepping into his car, a black box sits at my feet. “Time for you to trade in those sad Oxfords. Where did you find them anyway? Some hobo's closet?"

“In my missing mother’s,” I spit back. I’m usually afraid to make such comments but something tells me Mac won’t care.

“She has bad taste.” See?

Opening the box, a pair of gold strappy heels sit inside. Ones that match this dress perfectly. Ones so beautiful they belong on a runaway. Between the dress, hair, makeup, and these shoes, I finally feel like I belong in Paradise Hill. I finally feel special.

This is not a date. This is not a date. This is not a date! I remind myself the entire drive. Mac’s weird gothic music plays on blast as he smokes cigarette after cigarette. He weaves in and out of traffic, stepping hard on the gas, and when my muscles tense, his hand comes to my thigh, gripping it. It’s as if he knows how unsettling his driving is after the incident, and it’s easy to accept the wave of warmth that comes with his hold.

Then it hits me.

Mac and I have been this weird team for weeks. And tonight, that ends.

Something inside me feels like it’s sinking. Like when your favourite book gets to the last chapter. Or the last ten minutes of a film. But this is good. We need this.

“You ready?” Mac asks, the car slowing.

Looking out the window, gates the size of Humpty Dumpty’s wall open. And behind the iron gates sit a monstrosity of a home. The size of this mansion could take up ten blocks in The Valley. But here it stands. Alone. Lit up like an amusement park. An ominous one.

A gold plaque tells me where we are. ‘McKinsley Manor’ carved in gold. Moving beyond the gate, sports cars, limos and luxury SUVs sit around the expansive lot, a large stone fountain in the middle. It’s like one of those grand squares I’ve seen in pictures of Europe, except this isn’t for the public. People in over-the-top gowns make their way up red carpet steps, stopping for a photo between marble columns.

“You live here?” I ask, unable to hide my disbelief.

“Define live.” He pulls his car up to the bottom of the stairs and there’s even someone to park it for him. Mac comes around to my door as I take a deep breath. It looks like everyone in Paradise Hill is here. But if clearing my name means mingling with these folks, I’ll do it.

When the door opens, Mac holds out a hand like an actual gentleman. When I take it, sparks spiral up my arm as he pulls me towards him. Holding onto my sketchpad, I wobble to my feet. Besides sauntering around on donated heels in my family’s shop, heels are still new to me. Mac notices, steadying me with a firm grip, and with the extra inches, we’re almost the same height.

Mac leans in, his words landing in my ear. Bittersweet music. “You good, Everett?”

Looking past him, I’m reminded of what I’m about to face: the worst people on the planet. “You’re not gonna leave me behind in there, are you?”

---