Love, Lies and Texas Dips (22 page)

The clock on her nightstand showed fifteen minutes before curtsy practice, and Mac planned to use it well. Popping in the earbuds for her iPod, she turned on some Brian Setzer doing swing; then she slipped the bronze medallion and her mother’s letter from her pocket. Setting the
Star Trek
coin aside, she smoothed the stationery on her bed and read it for the hundredth time.

… you can believe I’ll be watching you, feeling my heart swell, and wishing I could be there beside you to tell you how proud I am of you
.

Just keep my love in your heart and hold it close so I’m there whenever you need me. I know it’s not the same, and I wish I could be there for your debutante season, holding your hand every step of the way. But you’ll have to be strong for me and, most important of all, believe in yourself. Never doubt for a moment that you deserve to be there every bit as much as anyone else
.

Mac wiped at her eyes and sat up, pulling out the ear-buds and stowing her iPod away before she carefully folded her mom’s letter, wrapping it around her good-luck charm from Alex. She set the bundle on her dresser until she’d changed out of her ink-stained blue jeans—and not because of Honey, but because she knew it was what her mom would’ve wanted. She donned a pair of tan Capri pants instead, pocketing the note and medallion; then she kicked her flip-flops aside, replacing them with her Sam Edelman ballet flats. She wiped a smudge of dust off her pale blue T-shirt, ran a brush through her hair, and dabbed on some lip gloss.

Sorry, Honey
, she thought,
but that’s as good as it gets
.

Even shut up in her room, Mac could hear the doorbell ringing once and then again, and when she emerged from her cocoon, the house was filled with the chatter of female voices.

She gritted her teeth and told herself it was now or never. Then she headed down the stairs, catching up with Ginger at the bottom.

“There you are!” Her friend gave her a hug in greeting. “I was about to come upstairs and get you. Honey said you were hiding out.” Ginger’s red hair was pomaded to death and stuck out in a million directions. She had on cargo pants, a pink save the ice caps shirt, and bright pink Coach flats.

“Where’s Laura?” Mac asked as Ginger linked arms with her and they headed toward the living room. “How’s she holding up?”

“She’s totally freaked, of course, so I got her a Diet Coke and made her sit down as far away from everyone else as possible. Cindy’s keeping her company—”

“Cindy Chow?” Mac croaked the name.
The girl’s freaking everywhere
.

Ginger squeezed Mac’s hand. “Give her a break, Mac. She’s being really sweet when everyone else is treating Laura like a leper. I’m just glad she was here so I didn’t have to leave Laura alone when I went to find you. She’d taken some Valium before I picked her up, so she’s calm for now. But who knows what’ll happen once the Bimbo Cartel shows up. Now, c’mon,” Ginger said, giving her a tug.

Mac spotted Cindy across the room, her olive skin glowing and her mouth moving a mile a minute as she chatted
with Laura, although Laura didn’t seem to be chatting back. Mac thought she looked pretty stoned. “She didn’t hear from the GSC, did she?”

“Not so far,” Ginger said, sounding relieved. “Just pray we get through tonight without Laura doing anything that’ll bring the club down on her before she gets this MySpace mess straightened out,” Ginger said under her breath, and Mac realized her friend was truly and certifiably nervous. “Maybe I should ask your stepmom to confiscate cell phones before the lesson—”

“Why?”

“The only thing worse than Internet rumors are humiliating YouTube videos,” Ginger explained, though she hesitated as they approached Honey, who cheerfully conversed with several debs in the center of the room. She’d changed into a floor-length sapphire-blue chiffon dress with a beaded belt and matching blue satin shoes. Mac thought the shimmery outfit resembled leftovers from a beauty pageant, but then Honey did seem to like things that sparkled.

“How about you keep an eye on Laura, and I’ll watch the evil Bimbos so we prevent anything YouTube-worthy from happening,” Mac suggested, offering up a pinkie.

Ginger linked her pinkie with Mac’s and said, “Sounds like a good plan, so long as the Bimbos play nice. Do they even
know
what the word ‘nice’ means?”

“They’re late anyway,” Mac said, and Ginger realized everyone had arrived but Jo Lynn and her cronies. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they won’t even show.”

Ginger laughed. “Yeah, right.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang repeatedly, like someone was leaning on the button, and Mac glanced over her
shoulder to see the door fly open before Honey could even scramble over to let in the last of her curtsy class.

Jo Lynn Bidwell strode into the foyer with Camie and Trisha in tow, all of them in high heels and floral-print full-skirted dresses, looking like something straight out of
The Stepford Wives
.

Jo Lynn caught her staring and marched straight toward her before Mac could escape. The haughty blonde grinned as she looked Mac up and down. “Hmm, I guess having a new mommy who dresses like a showgirl isn’t enough to get you out of your tired Gap getups, is it, Bookworm?”

Trisha and Camie giggled, saying, “Good one, Jo,” before the trio sashayed away, settling on the deep-red damask sofa across the room from where Laura sat.

“I could kill her for, oh, so many reasons,” Mac hissed, such anger running through her body that she felt the urge to break something—like maybe one of them.

“I’m begging you,
please
, no more drama tonight,” Ginger whispered, and dragged her over to Laura and Cindy.

“Hi, Mac” was all Cindy said before Ginger sat down beside her, and they tipped their heads together, chatting like old chums.

Mac swallowed hard as she took a seat next to Laura, who leaned a shoulder hard against her and chirped, “Hey, Macadoodle!” just a little too loudly before she resumed sipping her Diet Coke through a straw and smiling goofily.

How much Valium did she take?
Mac wondered, figuring it had to have been more than one.

“All right, ladies! It appears that everyone’s here,” Honey said, clapping hands as she moved around the room in a slow circle. “Yes siree, Bob, all ten of y’all are present and
accounted for. So if you’ll settle down and look this way, we’ll kick off this first curtsy class.”

With Laura drugged-up beside her, and Jo Lynn and her evil henchwomen across the room, Mac felt a prickle of apprehension. She just hoped the talisman in her back pocket would provide enough good mojo to keep curtsy practice from blowing up.

An original mind is rarely understood.

—Margaret Fuller

Superficial is easy.
It’s real that’s complicated.

—Ginger Fore

Twelve

“Have other debs got it easy, doing a simple little curtsy or a court bow after they’re introduced? You’re darn tootin’. But Texas debs always perform the Dip because it’s ours, it’s special, and it’s bigger than life, just like everything else here in the Lone Star State. Besides it’s always fun to one-up those Yankee girls, isn’t it?”

As Honey Potts Mackenzie rambled on, Ginger sat on the edge of her seat, keeping one eye on Mac and the other on Laura. Her nerves tingled, and not in a good way. Why did she have the feeling that something bad was going to happen, no matter how vigilant she was?

Sluurrrrrp
.

Ginger stiffened at the sound of Laura sucking up the last of her Diet Coke through a straw, and apparently she wasn’t the only one grossed out by the noise. Honey abruptly stopped talking and glanced in their direction. Ginger swiped the can from Laura’s hands and set it out of the way on the floor.

What?
Laura mouthed, her blue eyes looking foggy and dilated.

“Shhh.”
Ginger put a finger to her lips.

Honey picked up where she’d left off, and Ginger tried to listen—really she did—but she had so much on her mind tonight, like Laura and how the GSC would react to the pregnancy rumor, even if it was all a pack of lies, and the ugly stain on her grandmother’s ball gown. What would happen if nothing could get it out? Would Rose forgive her? How would she ever find another dress to wear that was even a fraction as perfect?

She felt so rattled that her thigh began to tremble, or at least, she thought it was her thigh. Until she realized the tremor was coming from her purse, which she’d shoved into the chair beside her.

As stealthily as she could, she drew her Razr from her hemp bag and slipped it into her lap. She glanced down, noting that she had a new text message, and it was from Kent Wakefield. It said: Sorry abt everything. Can we start over?

She wasn’t exactly sure how he meant to start over with her, but Ginger had to say she was impressed that he’d even offered. After the catastrophe at Rose’s last night, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d never wanted to see her again, much less paint her. Maybe Kent was worthy of a second chance. He might’ve dissed her artwork in middle school, but he hadn’t thrown her to the wolves like Javier had. Yet.

“… you can put on an old formal or a long bathrobe when you practice at home,” Honey was saying, “and stand in front of a mirror so you can watch yourself. You should look like you’re sinkin’ right into the folds of your skirt, kind of like melting into a puddle ….”

“Like the Wicked Witch,” Laura murmured before sinking down into the Eames chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes kept slipping closed, and Ginger elbowed her, making sure she didn’t fall asleep.

Laura nudged her back, something Ginger hadn’t been expecting, and she nearly toppled out of her seat.

“Are you ladies all right over there?” Honey paused mid-monologue to ask.

Ginger settled back into her chair. “Yes, we’re fine, thanks.”

“Fine ’n’ dandy,” Laura mimicked, sounding as loopy as she looked.

Across the way, the Bimbo Cartel snickered.

“Ignore them,” Ginger whispered, mostly for Mac’s benefit, as she noticed Mac tighten her nail-bitten fingers into fists.

Laura didn’t even flinch, and Ginger wondered how long the effects of the Valium would last. She hoped at least until the curtsy session had ended and Jo Lynn and her toadies had taken off. Then the Three Amigas could chillax in Mac’s kitchen over pizza and girl-talk. It would give Laura a chance to open up to them. She’d been too quiet all day, ever since she’d run out of the lunchroom and come back with rain-damp hair and a deer-in-the-headlights look. “She’s in shock” was how Mac had put it, and Ginger figured that was dead-on.

“… and that’s all I have to say about the history of the Dip. Now it’s time for a little practical experience. Let’s get everyone up and walking around in a circle,” Honey instructed. “I want to see how y’all carry yourselves. I have a feeling we’ll have to do some work on that, too.”

“We have to practice walking?” Mac groaned, which made Ginger smile, thinking tomboy Mac might very well be one of those who most needed “some work.”

“Up, up, up!” Honey prompted, gesturing wildly until each girl in the room was on her feet, though it took some assistance from Mac before Ginger could get Laura up and moving.

They trotted like trained ponies, one after the other, like a strange version of musical chairs, until they all reached their seats and plunked down again.

Honey frowned, tapping a finger against her chin, the other hand on her hip. She hardly looked pleased by the demonstration. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she told them, “All right, I’m no magician, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve. Thank goodness you’ll all be coming to see me regularly before the Big Night. It’s gonna take some doing to make y’all graceful. But let’s move on, shall we?”

“Regularly?”
Mac said, and gulped. Ginger patted her on the knee.

“Okeydokey, my lovelies, get ready to do the Dip!” Honey squealed, and her frown disappeared, replaced by a toothpaste-ad smile. “For those of y’all who didn’t listen to my advice and put on heels”—she stared at Jo Lynn, who stared right back—“feel free to practice first without your shoes on. I don’t want anyone hurtin’ themselves on the first day. Now, pay careful attention, y’all, while I show you how it should look,” she demanded in her Minnie Mouse drawl. “I’m lifting my arms like a swan about to take flight, and then I cross one foot behind the other like so, before I gently lower myself so I’m sitting right about on my heel.”

One blue satin shoe slid gracefully behind the other, and she appeared to be drifting slowly down toward the floor. “Now I’m extending my front leg, still keeping it slightly bent as I lean over it, turning my head so my cheek rests on my skirt like it’s a pillow.”

Ginger stared, not even blinking, and the room was dead silent as Honey performed the maneuver.

“Christ, is the woman a puppet?” Laura muttered, sitting up straighter, the Valium clearly losing its edge. “Who’s pulling her strings?”