Chapter Twenty-Five
Gen
On my way to Mother’s quarters, all cleaned up and in my Valentino dress, I cross paths with a few family members, only one of whom wishes me a happy birthday. When I enter the master bedroom, I’m surprised to see how many people are there. The clothing racks are also unexpected, and indicate there’s a stylist present, with loaned dresses and accessories.
I’m not sure where to start, a little disoriented by the swarming activity. Vivienne comes out of her massive dressing room, wrapped in a silk gown and with her hair already done.
“I’m just done with hair, so you can start with that,” she instructs. Then she changes her mind. “Actually, see with the stylist first. Your hair will depend on the dress you pick.”
“I already have a dress,” I protest, looking down at it.
Mother disapprovingly glares at the Valentino. “That won’t do. Ask the stylist.”
She doesn’t wait for a reply and leaves me with my jaw hanging to sit on the makeup artist’s chair. “Hello, Miss Kensington,” a woman says to my right. “I’m the stylist. All of this rack has been picked for you,” she explains.
It’s just a weekend, I tell myself. Forty-something hours, and then I’m back in the city. Back to Jake.
I try on the first dress, and while the zipper closes, it’s way too tight. A second dress knows the same fate, and by the third, the stylist is mortified. “I amsosorry, Miss Kensington. Your mother told me you were a size six, so I planned accordingly.”
I glare at the back of Vivienne’s perfectly styled head. “Well, I was a size six in high school ten years ago. Now I’m a size eight.”
Vicky was a size six as well. Is this my mother’s cruel way of reminding me that the memory of my sister will forever be better than whatever I might become?
“I may have a couple of dresses that will work great with your lovely shape,” the stylist explains. “Otherwise, your green dress was gorgeous, and we could accessorize it.”
“Let’s try on your dresses, then we’ll assess.”
Eventually, we settle on a beautiful black Alexander McQueen that fits me well, except at the chest, where my breasts are squished together and up. It makes the cleavage a little too intense, which might not be appropriate given the occasion. But two can play my mother’s game, so I choose it.
I head to the hair stylist before Vivienne can see the dress, and then come out with perfect waves cascading down and spilling to the front, over my left shoulder, with Swarovski pins that secure the hair above my right ear to reveal the diamond chandelier earring I’m wearing there.
Mother is gone when it’s my turn to get my makeup done, so I ask for smokey eyes and red lips—the furthest thing from innocence I can think of. As selfish as it might be, I don’t want everyone to look at me tonight and see Victoria. Ever since meeting Jake, I’ve felt seen and worthy. Tonight, I want to be more than the remaining half of a twin set.
I want to be my own person.
By the time Mother’s team is done with me, I feel incredibly sexy. I’m pretty sure I am, so I snap a few pictures and send the best one to Jake, then another one to Hana.
I’m still sad my best friend can’t make it tonight because she’s the only person I like who was invited. But she’s visiting her fiancé’s family with their toddler all the way down in Orlando. Honestly, she’ll have a better time there than here.
Because I can’t have my phone with me, I take a detour to my room and leave it there. Then, I reluctantly make my way to the vast entry hall, where a few guests are already arriving.
Somehow, I managed to avoid Father the whole afternoon, so I’m seeing him for the first time as I join them by the door.
Gerard Kensington has been in a rush his entire life. Or it seems like it, at least. The man barely made any time for Vicky and me when we were growing up under his roof, too absorbed by his work, meetings, and travels. He also never hid that Gerry was his favorite child, the perfect son who can do no wrong. As long as we came home with good grades and didn’t make waves, he saw no point in getting involved in our education. And with Vivienne and her hand of steel in charge, we didn’t need discipline from anyone else. I’ve always been fine with it because I don’t need another parent meddling in my life.
“Good evening, Father,” I tell him with a nod.
“Evening, Genevieve.”
Gerry is on the other side of him, wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo, and we give each other a nod. When I settle next to Vivienne, I can feel her eyes on me, and without even looking at her, I know she’s fuming. I’m usually a lot better at complying and doing whatever she needs from me, but today, I can’t be bothered to fake it. “What are you wearing?” she asks, barely containing her annoyance.
“McQueen. Isn’t it beautiful? I really like it, especially the neckline.”
“You need to change.”
“I can’t. The hair was done for it,” I counter, meeting her glare.
Someone new arrives, saving me from whatever she’s about to say. After a moment by the main door, all four of us migrate to the ballroom, where the guests have been converging. Most are unknown faces, very few are acquaintances, and none are friends.
