Page 56 of Forget About Me

Once we enter the actual shop, I have to admit that the place is kind of magical. Soft lighting, lush maroon drapes, and pale pink walls make it cozy. Mannequins, posed like they’re dancing, pop with color. It’s the polar opposite of the bright white and stainless steel of our clinic.

“Honey, I told you, that dress ain’t never gonna fit you. It’s not made for your Twiggy body,” a deep, raspy voice drawls from somewhere.

“It’s not for me.” Cindy pulls me around a row of clothing racks topped by hats and presents me to a vision of glamour that belongs to the smoky voice. Tall and broad shouldered, her dark-skin gleaming in the low light, she looks likeshe’sready for an opening night gala. A long, sparkly silver-and-blue dress swishes as she gracefully walks around a counter to greet us.

Cindy flutters at my side. “It’s for my friend Lucy here. Lucy, Roxy. Roxy, Lucy.”

I wave uncertainly, and Roxy gives me a regal nod.

Cindy bounces up and down. “Wouldn’t that dress look great on Lucy?”

I cross my arms over my ample chest. “What is it? A circus tent?”

Cindy rounds on me, her expression fierce. “Lucy. Just because you spend all day every day in scrubs doesn’t mean you can’t dress up nice. I’d kill for your boobs. Wouldn’t you, Roxy?”

Roxy looks me up and down. “If they’re real, sure thing, honey.” One side of her full mouth quirks up. “Hell, even if they’re not. You’re like a Sophia Loren crossed with Marilyn Monroe.”

Roxy twirls a finger in the air in front of me, and I obey the order to turn in a circle. My face probably matches this famous red dress.

“Mm-hmm, that frock would be perfect with your figure.” She taps purple-tinted lips with a matching manicured nail. “I may even have something that will make it just divine.”

Before I can argue, I’m strapped in what Roxy calls a “foundation garment.” I think it’s really just girdle. After she floats the dress over my head, she zips me in, fluffs, poufs and tugs, holds my hand as I step into some very high heels, and then parades me out so Cindy can see what she’s done to me.

I can’t quite gauge her reaction. Her hands cover her mouth, and her pale blue eyes are wide.

Roxy steers me over to a three-way mirror. When I work up the courage to look at my reflection, I can’t quite believe my eyes. I’d gasp, but I can’t get that much air in. There was so much going on in the dressing room, I hadn’t quite clocked that Roxy had twisted my hair up on top of my head and draped pearls around my neck, though I did notice when she swiped a dash of red across my lips.

The whole effect? She’s turned this lumpy vet tech into a va-va-voom starlet.

Cindy’s hand perches on my shoulder as she catches my eye in the mirror. “After work tomorrow I’m coming over to do your hair and makeup, and then I’ll strap you into this baby.” Her whisper’s a blend of reverence and a not-to-be-trifled-with demand. “You’re going to that party, and you’re gonna rule the room.”

I open my mouth to protest but she silences me with the nasal sound we all make when a puppy’s about to pee on the floor. “Anh, anh, anh. I’m not taking no for an answer.” She raises a finger and her chin high. “I’m even going to take your shift Saturday morning. So, you better have a good time ’cause you’re gonna pay me with two Saturday a.m. shifts whenever I want ’em.”

I take a long look at myself in the mirror again. It sure isn’t the Lucy I’m used to. This woman is much closer to the confident eighteen-year-old girl that propositioned young Ben Porter so many years ago. Maybe it is time to stop hiding her light under a bushel.

I meet my friend’s eyes in the mirror. “All right, Cindy. You’re on.”

I end up rescheduling my Friday afternoon training appointments because I have no idea how long it’s going to take Cindy to truss me up and fix my face and hair. I wouldn’t have been able to be present for my clients, anyway. I’ve been useless at work all day as it is. Veering between excitement and anxiety in anticipation of the night ahead, I can’t stop wondering what will happen if I unleash my passions on the world again.

Weeks ago, that substitute priest’s words put cracks in my determination to cage the Lucy that led Ben down the path to ruin seven years ago. Yes, I was a selfish brat to whine about riding the bus home from school. Yes, I put my mom through hell when I was running around town partying. But who did I really hurt by having sex with Ben?

Things started off awkward when I propositioned him the first time. For about two minutes. Once we were skin to skin, all the ways we knew each other—every secret, shared smile, every moment I felt like Ben just got me like no one else ever would—translated to trust. And pure lust. His touch goes past my skin, past my nerve endings and wakes up every good feeling that lives in me. Better than the best lasagna, the best antipasti, the best cannoli I’ve ever had.

And dammit, I miss it.

Maybe I was right the first time around. Maybe something that feels so good can’t be wrong. And maybe it won’t hurt to just try again. If we don’t sneak around, if we’re honest, if we act like the adults we are, perhaps we can have a healthy sexual relationship and nobody will get hurt.

BEN

As I scrub the last of the pancake makeup off my face, I’m thankful the CK makeup artists can’t see me now. They’d be horrified I had this thick, pasty stuff on my face in the first place, let alone that I’m using a chemical-filled wipe to remove it.

But right now I don’t give a shit. I’m riding the high that only comes from making an entire theater full of people laugh. We could do no wrong tonight. People were laughing so much they were bent over in their seats. They leapt to their feet when the lights went up for the curtain call.

Puck barks sharply and scratches on the dressing room door. “I guess you need a walk before the party, huh?”

After buttoning my shirt, I throw on a sport coat—a freebie from some designer—thinking that it is nice to wear something other than Launce’s jacket for a change. Puck barks again, so I grab his leash as we escape out the back door so he can do his business.

Someone steps out of the shadows, and it takes a moment to recognize my fellow actor. “Whoa, Randall, you startled me.”

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