Page 25 of Mr Best Friend's Brother Grump

“Well, it’s going to be swanky. Where is it?”

I think for a moment and try to recall the details. “The Hilton, I think… Midtown.”

“Woah! That’s going to be great and a chance to properly dress up.” Kendra’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s one of the things I love about her, but I play it down.

“Ah no. I’ll iron a shirt.” I mentally go through the meager contents of my wardrobe. I haven’t bought anything new for a while. And I haven’t bought anything that isn’t practical or work-related in forever. “I have my interview outfit. I’ll wear that.”

“Oh no, you won’t. Rosa. You are going to an evening at the Midtown Hilton with a soon-to-be-award-winning journalist. You are going to look the part, my friend…” Kendra slurps the rest of her smoothie and slaps me, heartily, on the back. “We are going shopping… for a dress.” Kendra whips out her phone and starts scrolling through fashion sites. “I know, we’ll check out what Ingrid is promoting on her channel. That’s a good place to start.”

The tiny screen is filled with an image of Ingrid, smiling brightly and talking to the camera. “The award season has started people, and if you’re lucky enough to get invited, well you will want to dress to impress and feel like a winner even if you miss out on an actual accolade. Here are some of my top tips for looking Hollywood glam…” Ingrid dazzles. “Tip number one. Black is back. Slink in and wow that crowd with long, to-the-floor elegance, twinned with a burst of sparkle with earrings and elongated lengths of chain. Don’t be shy to accessorize. See links below for outlets for my personal recommendations. See you next time for ‘What’s hot and not on the red carpet!’”

Kendra clicks on a link that opens a webpage of a designer boutique off Lexington Avenue.

“Looks expensive,” I say, calculating what’s left of my paycheck after paying bills. Not much.

“Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it? I’ll go halves with you…”

“Oh, I don’t know. Seems excessive for one night.”

“Look. Rosa. You live in New York now. You need a beautiful dress to wear to occasions such as this... It’s not an expense: it’s an investment. Yes? And, it’ll be fun… Did you consider that?”

You can see why Kendra is a lawyer. Her arguments are so compelling. She’s right, of course. What better way to shake off the doldrums than looking fabulous at a posh do, where nothing more is expected of you than to enjoy yourself? Get there, look gorgeous, have a great time, and that is all.

Since the movie night with Nathan and the Ingrid incident the following day, I had been feeling so off balance and agitated. I needed to reset my inner world, to erase any romantic notions of my best friend’s brother, once and for all. I needed to be proactive and approach this uptown event as therapy: a little pick-me-up treat with Alfie, who is a nice man, but definitely not boyfriend material. But there could be other nice men who are, possibly, boyfriend material, that I might meet at the Hilton, who will take my mind off Nathan. That would be a very good thing.

Before we leave the café, Kendra and I arrange to meet at the bijou boutique later in the week. I am excited now and looking forward to the awards night. It was sure to be a glamorous showbiz glitzy entertaining affair and certainly not something I would be doing every week. It was going to be a very special night.

The fashion store off Lexington Avenue is small and extremely trendy. There are only a few racks of ‘pieces’ on show. A sumptuous fuchsia-pink brocade curtain, hung on brass hooks on a rail, indicates a fitting room. A massive chandelier dominates the space, but the high ceiling, which is painted black, accommodates its dazzling bulk. Plain white walls are behind the suspended racks. The floor is exposed naked wood. Oval mirrors mounted on wheels are placed in the corners. A Billy Holliday remix sound bed is playing in the background. Kendra and I are greeted by a diminutive sales assistant with spikey black hair, wearing fitted black jeans and a floaty, see-through, oversized black shirt, sleeves rolled up revealing arms covered with tattoos and bangles. He's wearing thick, black-rimmed glasses.

I almost lose my nerve and back out. “I’m sure I can find what I need at Walmart,” I hiss into Kendra’s ear as I turn toward the exit. She grabs my arm.

“Hello ladies,” says the sales assistant with a warm smile. “Welcome to Chloe’s. How can I help you today.”

“Hi,” I say looking around at the expensive clothes. My fingers instinctively turn over the satin-feel white card price tags and try not to react to the hand-written digits and dollar signs. “We’re just looking, thanks.”

“Actually, my friend here needs an outfit for a posh event. Something glamorous. Gorgeous. Sexy.” Kendra winks.

“Oh, well you have come to the right place. Let’s see…” The sales assistant, whose name is Gerald, prances around the store, pulling out garments, reminiscent of a Spanish toreador in a bullring. He pushes aside some hangers on one side of a rail, hangs up the items that he has draped over his arm, then pulls aside the curtain to the fitting room at the back of the shop. Then he retrieves a stool from behind the counter. “Let’s get comfortable,” he says, patting the stool for Kendra. Then, with a sweeping gesture, he invites me into the fitting room.

The first item that is thrust into my hand is iridescent blue satin, shimmering like a mermaid’s tail. It’s on over my head, but I need a hand when doing up the zip. I step out from behind the curtain. The skirt is a little long.

By the look on Kendra’s face, I didn’t need to do up the zip. This one was a no-go. Next. I step out of the mermaid dress and carefully hand it back to Gerald.

“It’s maybe too Hollywood and not enough NYC,” he says to Kendra as if I can’t hear. “This one… I have a good feeling about. We only make a limited number of each design, in three sizes, so you can be confident that no one else in the room will have on your dress.” He hands me a chocolate velvet corseted construction over a tulle, floor-length skirt. “We can make alterations on site, if it’s not quite right…” I climb into the dress and gently pull up the bodice. Once again, I need help with the zipping.

“Oh, yes!” say Gerald and Kendra together.

“This one is very nice,” says Gerald scrutinizing my reflection as he yanks the sides of the bodice around my ribcage, pulling it in tight at the waist. “Breathe in and lift your chest...” He zips me up. “Now relax.”

My body is encased in structured fabric, restricting movement. I don’t think I could pick up anything from the floor, but, strangely, it’s not uncomfortable. I turn from the mirror to face Kendra.

“It’s definitely a statement piece,” she says. “How do you feel in it?”

“Like a trussed-up chicken.”

“Well, you look fabulous!” Gerald chimes in. “And with the right shoes and an up-do…”

“I’m not sure,” I say, turning back to my reflection. “It’s beautiful, but, umm, maybe a bit… dramatic, isn’t it?”

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