Damsel Under Stress (30 page)

As soon as she was gone, Gemma and Marcia said in stunned unison, “What a bitch!” Gemma then asked, “Who was that?”

“That was the infamous Mimi.”

Marcia shook her head as she watched Mimi berating a sales clerk on the other side of the store. “And I always thought you were exaggerating when you talked about her. How did you survive that long without killing her?”

“I needed the job if you wanted me to pay my share of the rent.” I put the sheer thing back on the rack, then said, “Okay, show me this miraculous bra.”

“You’re not going to get that?” Gemma asked, raising one eyebrow.

“That? Are you kidding? It would give him heart failure.”

“That’s the idea.”

“No, when I’m ready for that kind of thing—and I mean after we’ve been going out for more than a few weeks—I’d need something a little more classy, less calculated and obvious.”

“Okay, then, try the bra on,” Gemma said, herding me toward the fitting rooms with Marcia at her side. They didn’t give me much choice but to go with them.

That didn’t stop me from protesting. “I know what size I wear,” I insisted.

“It can be different in different styles. In fact, you should try a couple of different sizes.”

I really dug my heels in when they followed me into the fitting room. “I can do this alone, thank you very much.” Gemma and Marcia ignored me, barging into the small room with me.

I changed out of my top, and with my back turned I took off my bra and tried on the one Gemma handed me. Then I turned around to get their opinion and found that they were holding my blouse, my purse, and my coat. “Okay, since we’re all here, we need to talk,” Gemma said.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“We’re having an intervention,” Marcia said.

“A what?” I moved toward the door to get away from them, then realized that unless I wanted to go out in just a bra, I was stuck because they were holding my blouse and coat.

“We’re worried about you,” Gemma said. “You’ve been acting odd lately. And we’ve been getting the feeling that you’re lying to us about something.”

“You never used to lie to us,” Marcia added. “You can’t tell a good lie and not look like you’re lying, which is why we know you’re hiding something from us. But we want you to know that no matter how bad it is, you can talk to us. We’ll try to understand, and we’ll be here for you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, sure I was proving their point about looking like a liar. “And do we have to get into this here?”

“We planned to do this here,” Marcia said. “At home, you could lock yourself in the bathroom or go out. But right now, you’re stuck, and you have to listen to us.”

“Y’all are blowing this out of proportion,” I said, feeling frantic.

“You’ve got symptoms of drug abuse, or maybe mental illness,” Gemma said. “I looked it up on the Internet. You’re gone a lot with no explanation, you lie about where you’ve been, you’re associating with different people. You don’t enjoy things you used to enjoy.”

“I’ve got a new job,” I pointed out. “Of course I’m associating with new people, and I’m gone more often because I have more responsibility.”

“This job is on the up-and-up, isn’t it?” Marcia asked. “And the new boyfriend, he’s not a drug dealer or an abuser, or anything like that?”

“You met him. What do you think?”

“I spent about twenty seconds with him before you hustled him out the door. Hey, wait a second, you aren’t ashamed of us with your new work friends, are you? You didn’t seem crazy about your friends joining us for lunch today.”

“No, it’s not like that at all.” I tried to think of an explanation, but I was afraid I’d only make matters worse since they were definitely onto my lies and cover-ups. As a last resort, I decided on telling the truth—well, some of it. “It’s just weird to mix worlds like that, you know? I’ve always had my work friends and then y’all, and I never had to mix the two groups. I kept my personal life and my work life separate. Now that I’m dating someone from work and some of my coworkers have become real friends, it feels like my worlds are colliding, and it’s taking some adjusting.” Oh boy, was it. “I mean, look at how freaky it was to run into my old boss here. Lunch today was that kind of thing for me.”

Gemma handed me my blouse. “We just want you to know we’re here for you if you ever want to talk. And that bra fits you perfectly. You should take it.”

“But we will be getting to know your boyfriend better at the party so we can be sure about him,” Marcia added.

“I can assure you he doesn’t have me under mind control, and he’s not trying to recruit me into a dangerous cult and separate me from my friends and family. Now, can I have some privacy?”

They were waiting out in the store when I returned, fully dressed and my wits more or less about me. This had been possibly the closest call I’d yet had in hiding my magical double life. Gemma had picked out a pair of flesh-toned fishnet tights. Mimi was torturing a sales clerk by making her open and search through every drawer to make sure the bra she wanted wasn’t hiding from her. I certainly felt the clerk’s pain. I was sure that as soon as the salesgirl found the bra, Mimi would change her mind and want to find a different one.

I’d just checked out and was moving toward the store exit when Owen’s necklace went nuts. It was vibrating so hard it was almost painful. That meant big magic was in use nearby. Even without the necklace I’d have felt the power flying around. Before I had a chance to react, someone grabbed me and pulled me toward the exit.

Gemma and Marcia flew into action, hitting the guy holding my arm with their shopping bags and purses. My attacker was probably my old friend, Mr. Bones. Under my roommates’ assault, he let go of me, but I wasn’t sure where to turn. I didn’t want to run out of the store because there were likely more goons out there waiting for me. I threw a few good kicks into the mix, and soon he was the one running from the store.

But that didn’t stop the chaos. When the door opened to let my would-be kidnapper out, something else seemed to come in. I still felt magic in use and wondered if my magical bodyguards had come on the scene. I hated being without my magical immunity because it meant I could only guess at what was going on. A negligee-clad mannequin toppled over, then tried to right itself before falling over on the other side, right on top of Mimi. This time, she was the one to shove the mannequin upright, but she didn’t seem to notice that she had something lacy and filmy hanging off the back of her head. That sight alone made up for the scary moments earlier.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gemma said. She and Marcia each took one of my arms and marched me out of the store. “That was bizarre. See why we’re worried about you?”

“Hey, you’re not blaming me, are you?” I asked, trying to keep up with their longer strides. “Did you think I set that up?”

“Of course not, but that guy went straight for you,” Marcia said.

“It was random. Crime often is, you know. I was the closest one, and maybe I looked distracted because my friends had just accused me of being crazy or doing drugs, so I was an easy target.”

“But then all that other stuff started happening,” Gemma said. “Things flying, mannequins falling over.”

“Okay, I admit it,” I said, pulling my arms out of their grasp and throwing my hands in the air in defeat. “I’ve got magical powers, and I used them to torment Mimi. Are you happy now?”

Gemma laughed. “Well, you might have a point there. We can’t blame you for that. It was just typical New York weirdness. But you are okay, aren’t you? You’d tell us if something was wrong?”

“I’m okay,” I insisted, skipping over the part about telling them. They didn’t seem to notice my omission as they nodded and put their arms around me. I still had a feeling they weren’t going to stop worrying about me anytime soon.

As I sat New Year’s Eve with a head full of hot rollers while Gemma painted what felt like an inch or more of makeup onto my face, I wished I’d gone for Owen’s stay-at-home idea. “Hold still and don’t blink,” she ordered, waving an eyeliner brush at me. I was almost afraid to look at myself in the mirror when she was through.

When I did get the nerve to look, I didn’t recognize myself. She’d done a cat’s-eye effect with eyeliner and eyeshadow, and she’d managed to make my lips look plump and red. “Now, go get dressed,” she said, “and then we’ll do your hair.”

By the time I got on the pneumatic bra, the fishnet tights, the red dress, and my red shoes, I felt I’d been transformed even more. With the help of the bra, I almost filled out the top of the dress so that it hugged every curve—natural and artificial. Gemma took out the hot rollers, instructed me to bend over and shake my head while running my fingers through my hair, then patted the tousled waves into place and sprayed thoroughly with hair spray before sticking on the horned headband. “There we go,” she said, admiring her creation with satisfaction. “One she-devil.”

I had to admit, I looked pretty good, though even with my hot red outfit I wasn’t sure I was anywhere near as sexy as Gemma was in her skintight black catsuit and knee-high black stiletto boots. And then Marcia came out of the bathroom.

We almost didn’t recognize our own roommate. She wore a Marilyn Monroe–style dress, and with her hair curled she looked very much like Marilyn. It was more overtly sexy than I’d ever seen her. “What do you think?” she asked, sounding a little unsure.

“You’ll have to walk over at least one subway grating,” I said, and she grinned as she mimicked the famous pose.

The buzzer from downstairs sounded and Gemma ran to answer the intercom. A moment later, she opened the door to let Philip in. He was dressed like a storybook version of Prince Charming, complete with cape and crown. He gave all of us a sweeping bow, then put a green frog mask up to his face. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. He gave me a sly wink as he took the mask away from his face. “Is my costume adequate?” he asked.

“It’s great,” Gemma said, stepping forward and giving him a quick kiss.

“Absolutely brilliant,” I agreed.

The buzzer sounded again, and this time it was Owen. When he came upstairs, he was wearing a tux and a full-length opera cape. His eyes went huge when he saw me, and he’d just started to blush when Marcia asked him, “And what are you supposed to be?” With a sigh and a pained look at me, he put on a broad-brimmed black hat and the Phantom mask. Marcia nodded in approval. “Nice, but I think you might be a little too cute under that mask to be a proper Phantom of the Opera.”

He turned one of his better shades of red. “I guess we’re ready to go,” I said, trying to direct attention away from him even as I wished Marcia had given him a chance to react fully. It wasn’t often that a man looked at me that way, and I didn’t get the full effect of that look when he had the mask on. “Shall we head downstairs and try to get a couple of cabs?”

“Wait a second,” Gemma said, turning to Marcia. “Where’s Jeff?”

“He’s not coming tonight.” Marcia picked up her coat. “Let’s go.”

Owen took his mask off. “I called for a car, if you don’t mind.”

“Not one bit,” Gemma said, blowing him a kiss that made him turn pink again. “Thank you.”

As we all trooped downstairs, I hung back with Owen. “Nice cape and hat,” I said.

“I borrowed them from James. I headed up there for a short visit last night. I was scolded for not bringing you. And, by the way, I, um, like your costume. It’s a little out of character, but maybe it’s an entirely different side of you. One that could be fun for an evening, I suspect.”

“Thank you. I think.” I didn’t dare look at him because I was sure I was turning redder than my dress. I couldn’t help but wonder what he meant about my she-devil persona being fun. We got down to the sidewalk, and before we joined the others, I glanced at him. “When you said you ordered a car…” The look on his face said it all. “Oh, no, you didn’t.”

But the squealing tires of the car that came to a stop with one of its front wheels on the curb said it all. Instead of the two goofy gargoyles, though, one man got out of the driver’s seat. He had bulging eyes and Rocky’s long, thin face, but his legs were short and stocky. Owen and I sat in the front seat, with me in the middle next to the driver(s), and the others got in the backseat. “And, we’re off!” Rocky’s voice said as we shot out into traffic. My friends didn’t seem to notice anything strange about the driving, but I clutched Owen’s hand and squeezed my eyes shut during most of the trip.

The party turned out to be in a spacious SoHo loft with large arched windows overlooking the street many floors below and cast-iron columns throughout the room. Rod greeted us as we entered. He wore a purple frock coat that reminded me of the Gene Wilder version of Willy Wonka. “You remember my roommates Gemma and Marcia?” I said. “And this is Philip, Gemma’s boyfriend.”

Rod kissed the girls and me on the cheek and shook Philip’s hand. Then he turned to Owen, who was back in full Phantom regalia, and did a mock double take. “And who are you, stranger?”

“Not Robin Hood this time,” Owen said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, there are some shadows I need to haunt on the other side of the room.” He swept me away with an arm around my waist.

“Don’t get too deep into character,” I teased him. “I mean, unless you really want to drag me off into the basement away from all these people.” We were fairly early, but the place was already packed. With the costumes, it was hard to tell who was who. I’d left Owen’s necklace at home, assuming the place would be full of magic, so I couldn’t even tell how many people were wearing illusions instead of real costumes.

“The basement idea is tempting, but we should probably save it for later,” he said, scanning the room. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure. Whatever you can get to easily.”

He took off into the crowd, and while I waited for him, Gemma and Philip joined me. “I think that costume went to Marcia’s head,” Gemma said. “She’s back there flirting with your friend.” I glanced across the room to see Marcia doing the Marilyn over the subway grate pose in front of Rod.

“Isn’t that the idea of a costume party? To leave yourself behind and have fun?” I asked.