Page 64 of The Auction
I looked in the mirror again. My tan face felt a little softer against the color. There was some cleavage where the V landed. My knees peaked out just under the hem and the sleeves fell just short of my biceps.
“Come out and let me see,” April called. “Remember, you can’t be your own judge of what looks good.”
I pushed the curtain aside and immediately April started bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapping. “Oh my gosh! That looks so good on you. Youhaveto get it.”
“She’s right,” the woman, Kaye I assumed, who ran the store, joined in the chorus. “That shade of pink brings out your skin tone and your eyes look so blue now.”
“Oh, you have to try this.” April bounced forward and pulled something out of the clutch bag she had strapped across her shoulder. She unzipped it and pulled out a round compact thing. “I don’t love this color, which is why I leave it as my touch up only because it cost so freaking much,” she said, even as she boldly tapped her fingers along each of my upper cheeks then smudged whatever she’d applied. “But yes, on you it works.”
I turned back to the mirror and saw me with highlighted cheekbones wearing a really pretty dress. The way it hit my waist and chest made me look shapelier than I actually was.
“You have to buy it!” April insisted.
“I just need…I want to make sure…he’s okay with the extra purchase this month.”
“Oh sure. But send him a picture. Trust me, he’ll be okay if you’re a little over budget this month.”
Stepping back behind the dressing room curtain, I dug my phone out of my overall pocket.
Me: Hey, are you okay if I buy a dress? It’s a consignmentshop. I ran into someone who wanted to shop there and I saw it.
Creed: A dress, huh? Send me a pic.
I held the phone up toward the mirror, my face was covered, but you could see the color of the dress, the way it fit. I snapped a picture and sent it to him.
Creed: Damn, baby! You look hot. Hell yes, you can buy that dress.
I rolled my eyes.
Creed: You don’t have to ask me. If you’re not doing something crazy, like buying Armani or shit, you can buy something you like.
Me: They don’t have Armani in Riverbend.
Creed: Wear it home.
Me: No way. It’s special. I don’t want to wrinkle it in the truck.
Creed: Fine. You can try it on for me when you get home.
Me: We’ll see.
See,always that bit of stubbornness. I changed back into my shirt and overalls, stepped into my worn sneaks. Carefully, I put the dress back on the hanger and pulled the curtain aside.
“I’ll take it.”
Kaye beamed. “Excellent, what’s your shoe size?”
“Shoe size?”
“You’ll need something to pair with it. If you’re a seven, I have a pair of nude ballet flats that will work perfectly,” Kaye said.
“You need shoes,” April said, like it was obvious.
“I’m a seven,” I told her.
Apriland I were walking back to the grocery store parking lot together and I had a brown shopping bag in my hand that, not going to lie, made me feel a little bougie.
I. DID. NOT. SHOP.
