My lips twisted before I burst out laughing so hard that tears pricked my eyes.
“Girl, quit laughing. You know that I’m right, but if you fuck up your makeup, I can promise you that I won’t be doing it over. You’ll be meeting your mystery man looking like a raccoon.”
That sobered me up, which caused her to burst out laughing.
“Okay, it wasn’t that funny,” I stated after a couple of minutes.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “It’s time to get you into your dress. That car will be here any minute.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s a quarter after six.”
“Oh shit,” I replied and jumped up from the chair she had me sitting in. I rushed into her closet and grabbed my gown and dressed in it. I had spent a fortune on the Liz Boucher black and gold, one-shoulder, floral appliqué gown. With sheer panels, the long sleeves stopped at a point on my wrist. The entire dress was sheer, but a black silk underlayment flowed underneath the sheer panel and continued down the length of the dress. It split just above my right hip, leaving my entire right leg exposed. A black and gold detachable train attached to the back of my dress flowed to the floor.
“Give me your feet,” Fiona stated, dragging a stool over to her dressing table where I sat. I kicked my foot out and watched as she placed my silver sandals on both feet, before I turned back to the mirror and put on my onyx earrings and matching onyx and diamond choker.
“You are so stinking gorgeous. I wish that you had told the girls so that they could be here to see you tonight.”
“Tell you what. You can take pictures and show them later.”
“They’re going to be pissed that you didn’t tell them, especially your cousin.”
“Sylvie will be fine. She can’t hold water,” I declared, waving my hand. “If you tell her, she’s going to tell Aunt Joan, and Aunt Joan is going to tell my mama. Then she’ll be on the phone asking if I’ve lost my damn mind, risking my relationship with a good, solid, strong man like Bryse. She will guilt-trip me until I don’t know up from down, and I’ll be second-guessing whether I should go or not. So, no, Sylvie doesn’t need to know.”
Fiona clapped her hands and sighed heavily. “Well then. I guess that settles it. Let’s get your mask.”
“Still don’t know why I need that when you’ve done a banging job on my face.”
“Because, boo, it’s a masquerade ball. That’s what the mask is for. There will be an unveiling, so to speak, later, and you can let your face do its thang then.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t use cheap makeup then, huh? Otherwise, I will be sweating it out under this mask,” I declared, waving it indignantly around in the air.
“Girl, put that damn mask on, and trust that I did my thang.”
“I will.” I grabbed the mask and began to tug it in place.
“Wait. You’re about to mess up your hair, girl.” Fiona grabbed the mask from me and worked it around my hair so that it fell into place properly without messing up my hair.
“Now go take a look at you,” she demanded, shoving me toward her walk-in closet where she had a 360 mirror.
I walked inside and stopped in my tracks. I was blown away by the image before me. If I didn’t know it was me, I would say that the woman in the mirror was stunning, breathtaking even.My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help but stare at myself from every angle.
The mask set the outfit off. It was gold trimmed in black with tiny silver sparkles that looked like diamonds on the face of the mask.
“I think I’m going to cry. Do you think he’ll like it?”
“You’re really into this guy, aren’t you?”
“I mean, I like what I see so far. He appears to be everything that I want and need him to be. I only pray that the reality is everything that the fantasy appears to be. I’m losing Bryson, and I know it. But I think we’ve gone too far to turn back. I think he’s cheating on me. And I just don’t want to be alone when he finally leaves me for good. I think he’s about to break up with me.”
“I find that so hard to believe. That man worships you. But if you’re convinced, I can’t argue. You know him better than I do.”
“I do. I just hope tonight will be fine.”
My phone buzzed, and she grabbed it off the bed. “It will be. Girl, get out of here. The car is here. This is the text from your driver now.” Fiona grabbed my clutch and shoved it at me along with my phone. “Come on before you’re late. I feel like a mother sending her daughter off to the prom,” she declared, dragging me to the door and out of the house.
We headed down the sidewalk to the driveway, where we stopped and looked at each other.
