Page 13 of Wilder Ever After

We all shook our heads and moved to the waiting area, barely sitting down before a handsome, toned, tanned man came out.

“Hi,” he said with a flashy smile. “I’m Antonio. I can take you back now.”

We all turned to Marge, and she slunk a little lower in her seat.

“It’s that one.” I pointed. “And you’re gonna need the super powerful stuff to make any headway. Maybe start with a weedwhacker.”

His eyes widened a flash, and then I saw him fight a smile. “I see. Well, I’m sure I can handle it.”

Marge leaned over and glared at me. “Watch it, Alice, or I’ll have him keep the hair he pulls off, and I’ll put it around you at night while you sleep. You’ll feel all warm and safe until you open your eyes and—bam!” She jumped forward, shoving her hands in my face. “Hair cocoon.”

I gasped and waved my hands. “Oh, God. Please don’t. I’ll jump off the ship.”

“I’m not coming in after you.” Marge waggled her brows.

I glanced at Antonio. “I’ll tip extra if I can watch you put the hair in the garbage. If even one strand ends up in my bed, I swear to God I’ll hunt you down and shove it down your throat.”

Antonio laughed. “You have my word. Now, are you ready?” He turned to Marge.

She twisted her lips, glancing at him and then the door out.

Sylvie pumped a fist. “You’ve got this, Marge.”

“You’ll be alright, dear.” Doris gave her a little pat.

With a grumble, she pushed out of her chair. “I can’t believe you’re making me wax.”

“It’s for your own good,” I answered. When she glared at me, I shrugged. “Okay, it’s forourgood, but still necessary. Now, go get ’em, tiger.”

“You want me to hold your hand?” Doris started to get up.

“I’ll be fine, Doris. If that pansy Alice can handle this, I can do it in my sleep.” Marge shot me one last look then headed through the door and out of sight.

“Oh, boy,” Sylvie whispered as she leaned in. “It doesn’t hurt you much since you do it regularly. No one told her it hurts more if the hair is longer. Think we should?”

I slid my gaze to her, shaking my head softly. “Let’s not give her any more reason to back out. Those things are a visual hazard to everyone on this ship.”

Sylvie chuckled.

Doris sucked the air through her teeth. “I hope we’re doing the right thing. I don’t want poor Marge to feel like we put peer pressure on her.”

“It’s the right thing,” I answered, grabbing a magazine from the rack. “Well, it’s the right thing for me. I’m not spending my trip with those catastrophes blocking my view of all the young cubs awaiting me. Proper upkeep is imperative to personal hygiene. If you could see what I endure for my beauty regimen, you wouldn’t feel the least bit sorry for her.”

A beauty regimen that seemed to grow with each year. As gravity and time waged war on my body and face, I had to fight harder to hold them back at the gates ... a battle that admittedly got more exhausting as time passed. Wax, pluck, moisturize, tighten, inject, lift, cut. Repeat ad nauseam until all traces of my true age disappeared behind the veil my talented team of experts hoisted in front of me.

I crossed my legs the other way, and my foot throbbed the way it did at random these past months.

Well, my team erasedalmostall traces of my age, anyway.

My aching joints and tendons were no longer easy to ignore, and no makeup artist, esthetician, or even doctor could wave a wand and make them go away. It seemed, finally, my body had betrayed me, and there were no more injections or pills to make my bones and joints age backward. We’d tried everything under the sun, and still, the pain from years of dancing just continued to worsen. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I carefully rubbed my foot against my leg and pressed, easing the throbbing pain for a bit.

A few moments passed as we waited, and suddenly a gut-wrenching holler came from behind the door.

“Holy cripes!” Marge shouted after another guttural roar.

I clasped a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Ow! Crap on a cracker!” she shouted again.

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