Page 18 of No More Billionaires

“So, all right then, if you don’t have an opinion on it, I’ll just put these things in your suitcase. Don’t forget your high-heels and your makeup bag,” she added hopefully.

I forced a polite tone. “Okay, thanks. I’ll finish the packing sometime this weekend—ifI decide to go. See you downstairs.”

When Momma left the room, I removed every slinky, clingy article of clothing she’d put in my bag and replaced them with the kind of loose, practical items I wore to work these days.

The other clothes I returned to my crammed walk-in closet, though I paused after hanging the red bandage-style cocktail dress. This had been one of my very favorites. I took it back down. The feel of the soft, fine fabric under my fingers made me smile.

I held it a minute more then slipped out of my clothes and pulled it on. Peeking out of my closet and seeing the coast was clear, I darted for the bathroom attached to my bedroom.

I flipped on the light, locked the door, and turned to the full-length mirror.

And there she was—the old me—the one who’d always loved fashion and had been engaged in a passionate love affair with cosmetics since the age of twelve. I smoothed my hands over the dress, and yes, a little more in the hip department than I used to have, but it still fit beautifully.

My lank hair just looked strange with the dress, so I went to the vanity, dug out a clip and twisted my hair into a simple updo. Better.

Before I quite knew what was happening, I’d applied a full face of makeup, enjoying the pleasant scent and feel of my favorite cosmetics, the artistic act of applying them in just the right amounts to just the right places. I’d missed this.

Then I looked at the whole picture in the mirror, and the trance was broken. Mark’s Kenley—Momma’sKenley—stared back at me.

I took out a washcloth and scrubbed away the life that makeup represented—the one where I traded my looks and my soul for the future Momma had pushed on me.

It kind of sucked because I’d always loved experimenting with different looks.

Maybe I should’ve gone to beauty school instead of college, then I could’ve indulged in makeup and fashion to my heart’s content without prostituting myself in the process.

SEVEN

Plan Mom

A knock at the bathroom door startled me.

Ugh. I couldn’t let Momma see me like this—she’d go into an ecstasy fit. I grabbed my robe to throw over the dress.

“Kenley? You in there?”

With a breath of relief, I opened the door to Cadence. “Hey. How was class?”

“Good! You going out tonight? I love that dress.” She crawled onto my bed and sat cross-legged in her shorts and Tech t-shirt.

“No. Just trying it on—you want it?”

“What? No—it’s yours. Someday the real you is going to come back and want her clothes,” she teased.

“This is the real me,” I protested, peeling off the incriminating red dress and pulling on a pair of ratty dorm pants and a sweatshirt.

“Um, are you the same big sister who used to dress me up and cover me in makeup for pretend Top Model photo sessions? Who founded our high school’s fashion club and kept all of Teen Vogue’s sponsors in business?”

I gave her a sheepish eye-roll. “Okay, but I’m not into it anymore. And I refuse to use all that stuff to try to lure some rich guy into marrying me. I just want a nice guy who likes me for me. I’m done with Plan Mom, and I hope you’re not buying into it.”

She laughed. “Have you met me? Of course I’m not—I’ve just perfected the art of playing along and ‘yes ma’amming’ her until I can get the hell out of here. You know I don’t care about fixing up, and I’ve gone out of my waynotto meet the rich boys at school.”

Georgia Tech had its share of those—it was a pricey school. Cadence was only there because of grants (Momma preferred the term “scholarships”) and work study and because she saved the cost of housing and a food plan by living at home.

“Believe me,” she continued, studying her short, unpainted nails. “I wouldn’t be killing myself getting a double-engineering degree if I wasn’t planning to support myself.”

“Good.” I nodded and put the red dress away, taking one last look at it before switching off the closet light.

“I always feel kind of bad for those guys—well, not for Mark—but for the rest of them, you know?” Cadence said.

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