Their meals were brought over just then. Picking up the fork, Melanie tried to show an interest in the salad, even though her mind was elsewhere. She had half an hour for lunch and could not afford to be even a minute late.
"You don't understand. This is the answer to all our problems."
"I really doubt that, but let's hear it."
Carrie dug into her Caesar salad with gusto. She had consumed too many cookies and some chocolate cake at that damn shower they did for that whiny and ungrateful cousin of hers. She was paying for it now. She swore she gained at least ten pounds and with her luck, it was all on her ass. She was going to have to work like a demon to shed the weight.
"Remember that friend I was telling you about? Renee? Well, she does makeup for rich people, and we go a way back. There's this charity masked ball at the Elite Club on Saturday and she got us two tickets. Bitch! We're in. This is our chance to meet those rich men."
"I've read that the place is loaded with that type. Bankers, politicians, royalties." Her eyes went dreamy. "Can you imagine a prince taking a liking to someone like me?"
She eyed her friend critically, envying the flawless caramel complexion and the narrow face with the high cheekbones.
"The prince wouldn't spare me a glance if you're around." She shook her head. "Well, anyway, we have coveted tickets to this party and we're going."
"I can't."
"What?" Carrie hissed. "This is the chance we've been waiting for. What do you mean, you can't?"
"I've changed my mind." Melanie toyed with her lettuce and avoided her friend's heated gaze. "I have to be sensible. I have a son to raise and thinking of trapping a rich guy and pretending to be someone else is not something I would feel comfortable doing. I'm a mother and I have to set an example."
"Now you're really pissing me off. We both decided that we need something to take the edge off. We're stuck in this cycle and need a way out. Aren't you damn tired of running to that bitch's beck and call? Going to the local clubs and parks are no way to meet the rich. We have to go where they mix and mingle."
"Carrie--"
"No." Her friend gestured fiercely with her fork. "We're doing this."
"I have nothing to wear." Melanie concluded weakly, feeling her resolve weakening.
Carrie pounced, scenting victory.
"Fortunately for us, I have a friend who owns a vintage store and that's the theme of the party. Leave everything to me." She stared at her friend's thick natural hair that was now caught back into a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. "And I know just what to do with that hair of yours. A few blonde highlights at the ends and a retro style."
She practically jiggled her butt on the vinyl seat, eyes dancing.
"I'm going to make us both so stunning, we're going to have a hard time recognizing ourselves."
"I don't think--"
"That's exactly what I don't want you doing. Thinking." Carrie rolled over her like a bulldozer. "We're doing this. We owe it to ourselves."
*****
It had taken several arguments to get her to agree and even so, she was not sure she was doing the right thing. Of course it wasn't the right thing, she chided herself as she stared at herimage in the full-length mirror. She was deliberately attending a function where she definitely did not belong with the intention of capturing a rich man's eye. It was wrong, no matter how much she tried to justify her actions.
It was just for fun. A night of magic, like Cinderella attending the ball where her godmother waved a wand and changed her very appearance. At the strike of midnight, she would be home and in her bed. Back to reality.
Tonight was well, it was for pretense. And who knows, it might not yield any fruit. Rich people have a way of figuring out who belongs.
But damn if Carrie hadn't waved her wand and performed magic. She barely recognized herself. She had thick natural hair that she had stopped perming several years ago. Carrie had shampooed, deep conditioned and added blonde highlights to the tips. She had then twisted it and blow dried it, before uncoiling it.
The style was some sort of messy afro, which framed her narrow face and gave her a mysterious look. Her eyes appeared too large for her face, her makeup flawless. Long gold triangles swung from her lobes.
She was dressed as Cleopatra and was wearing a shimmering gold dress that clung to her curves suggestively. It stopped just short of being indecent. Gold knee-length boots completed the outfit. The narrow mask fit over her eyes and added to the mystique. Hammered gold bangles were on her arms and wrists.
David was staying the weekend with grams again. She had hurried to do her cleaning job so she could take the time to get ready. Somehow, Carrie had persuaded a limo driver to take them to the club.
*****
