The Sweetest Thing (27 page)

Downstairs, I see that the front room has been transformed into a one-chair beauty salon. Amazingly, my father is sitting in front of a floor-length mirror, and some big guy dressed all in black is putting makeup on him.

Now I’ve seen it all. I head to the kitchen.

“Sheridan?” Dad calls me back.

“Yes?” I walk into the room and look at him like he’s some incomprehensible piece of modern art.

“Don’t give me that look. Your time will come.” He’s smiling this morning. I had a nice time last night, but I’m not ready to be all rainbows and sunshine with him. Besides, I haven’t had coffee yet.

“You must be the birthday girl?” That’s the big guy in black. I also notice he’s got black fingernails and a pierced lip. Not the kind of dude you see often in St. Mary.

“Sort of,” I say, smiling again.

“Well, you couldn’t be more gorgeous.” He walks over to me and touches my chin, angling my face upward. “Would you look at those cheekbones. And those eyes. Yum-yum, dee-licious.” He shuffles back to Dad. “No offense, Mr.

Wells,” the man in black says. “You’re a handsome man and all, but I think she got her looks from her mama.”

It’s not exactly a smile I see on Dad’s face. And not exactly a frown. Something in between. Something bittersweet.

“You’re right about that, Frank. A hundred percent.”

After I grab some coffee, Frank calls me to the chair. By the time he’s done with my hair, I’ve been sprayed, twisted, brushed, teased, and sprayed again. My nails are painted by a nice older woman, and then Frank starts slapping goop on my face. He stands right in front of me so that I can’t see my reflection in the mirror, and I have the feeling that I’ll look like the Bride of Frankenstein by the time he moves out of the way.

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“How’s it going, Frank?” Amazon walks in. I start to turn my head.

“Don’t you dare move,” he says to me, totally serious.

“She’ll be ready soon, Your Majesty.”

“Good. They need your help with the extras over at the restaurant as soon as you’re done. And Sheridan, thank you for humoring me with the guest list. I tend to agree with you; those girls are—what’s a nice way to put it?—prima donnas. They’re driving hair and makeup crazy.” She leaves without another word.

After what seems like a very long time, Frank announces that he is
“ finis”
and steps back, away from the mirror.

“Voilà!”

Wow. I touch my hair.

“Don’t touch!” Frank screams.

“Sorry.”

My auburn hair is shining, hanging down in loose curls around my face. My makeup is perfect. I don’t look like an undead monster’s bride; I look like me, with a hint of Greek goddess thrown in. One of the nice goddesses who doesn’t turn people to stone or eat them alive.

“Perfection,” Frank says.

Amazon storms in. “Oh my God!” she says, so loud that at first I think she’s angry. But no, this is Amazon happy.

“Sheridan! Who knew there was a supermodel under that cake-covered exterior?”

I roll my eyes. That might be taking it a bit too far. She 286

puts her arm around my shoulder, leans down and looks at me in the mirror. “I’m serious. You look gorgeous. Now go upstairs and get that dress on.”

When I get upstairs, there’s a stranger in my bedroom smoothing wrinkles out of the dress with a steamer. It looks different in the bright white sunlight of my room. Almost pretty.

“Hi,” I say to the stranger.

“You Sheridan?” the woman says in a thick New York accent.

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m Miriam. Go ahead and change.” She looks me up and down. “There’s a bra built into the top, with a little extra added for good measure, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay.” So I turn away from the woman and drop my shirt and jeans. I pick up the dress and pull it up over my hips. There she is, at my back, zipping before I have a chance to take a breath. It falls over the curves of my body perfectly.

I look in the mirror in the corner of my room.

“God, that’s just gorgeous,” Miriam says, smoothing the skirt. “A little weird on a snowy day, sure, but it looks like it was made for you.”

She turns, starts digging in a small case on the dresser, and pulls out a bright pink hibiscus flower. She clips it above my left ear.

“And that is the icing on the cake, my dear.”

Who is that girl in the mirror? She looks good. I wish 287

Mom could be here today to see me.

When Miriam is finished, she leaves my room, and I grab Mom’s heart-shaped note and stick it in my cleavage, since there are no pockets on this dress. I grab my cell phone and don’t try to stick it down my bra. My boobs look big enough already. Extra padding? They totally gave me the Dolly Parton model. Lastly, I fasten Jack’s charm bracelet on my wrist for good luck, the little bird charm jingling.

I make my way to the restaurant, hidden under my parka, my feet stuffed into Uggs. Frank almost wouldn’t let me wear a coat, but I warned him that a frostbitten birthday girl would not be very attractive. It’s colder now than it was a month ago, and even though I’m only crossing the parking lot, there are ice patches here and there and I have to walk flat-footed and slow. I can feel my perfectly lined lipsticked lips turning blue.

When I enter the kitchen through the back door, no one even looks up. Lights and equipment are everywhere. I tiptoe over cords and push through to the dining room.

Oh wow. I turn in a circle to take it all in. The huge potted palms have transformed the room into a tropical garden. Yards and yards of silk, in turquoise, chartreuse, and orange, are draped along the walls. Fairy lights are strung everywhere, glinting off the crystal chandeliers, and enormous tropical flower arrangements seem to sprout out of nowhere, all purples, pinks, yellows, and bright, vibrant greens. A waterfall gushes in the corner, and long tables with 288

bamboo legs fill the space. Dad’s already filmed the cooking segments, and the premade food is out: carved watermelons filled with small fruits, pineapples, trays of shrimp, and piles and piles of crudités. Totally mouthwatering.

It’s spectacular. Just what I’d expect from an Extreme Sweet Sixteen.

And then, of course, there’s the cake. It’s been brought over from the bakery, and it looks like a jewel in the center of all that food. Despite the fact that I don’t want this party to happen, I can’t help the smile that’s creeping across my face.

I hear Lori’s laugh and spin around to find her. Down the stairs I see Jack, Lori, and Jim walking, all made up and dressed for the party. They stare at me in my parka, which is making me hot under all these lights. I take it off and lay it on the chair next to me. And seriously, their eyes pop out of their heads.

Lori floats across the room in a supercute aquamarine halter top and her flowered sarong, which is tied expertly around her waist.

“You are stunning!” I say to her, but all three of them just stare at me. Lori backs up a step, puts her fists on her hips.

“Well, glory be! Our little girl, all grown up!”

Jack doesn’t say anything. He’s got on a pair of long shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. As I look closer, I notice that instead of hideous barfy flowers and random palm trees, his Hawaiian shirt has baseballs, pennants, and random Chicago Cubs paraphernalia.

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“What the heck is that?” I ask.

“What, this?” He picks at the shirt. “They said we could wear any tasteful Hawaiian shirt. This is the most tasteful one I could find.”

“Tasteful?”

He tilts his head and winks. “Go Cubs?”

I shake my head, but he’s looking at me all serious.

“You look really . . . beautiful.”

“Thanks.” His eyes on me are making me blush.

“Oh, good lord. Get a room.” That’s Lori.

I’m about to shoot her a dirty look when my eyes travel up the staircase and I see Ethan descending with Haley at his side. Her friends follow like baby chicks behind a mother hen. She’s got on a dress that’s way shorter, lower cut, and tighter than mine. And her boobs aren’t sewn in, either.

“Give me a break,” Jack says.

“Oh, brother,” Lori adds.

Ethan glances in my direction, but he sticks with Haley as the group pools at the bottom of the stairs.

He looks good, like he just stepped off the beach in Hawaii. Natural, tan, so cute I can’t stand it. Why does he have to be so cute?

He steps in front of Haley, waves an arm. But she walks around him and over to where we’re standing.

“Good morning,” Haley says, the chicks in formation behind her. I stand up a little taller in my boots and stick my chest out just a bit farther. “I’ve come to make peace.” She 290

smirks. “Thanks for asking me to your party.” She sticks out a hand. I don’t reach for it, because I don’t believe her for a minute. She rolls her eyes and looks me up and down with a look of pity on her big ugly face. “Sheridan, you’re so . . .

totally vintage.”

I think of all the years that Haley has gone out of her way to be wicked to me. I am so sick of her. “I did not invite you.”

“Oh.” She puts a finger to her lips. “That’s right. Poor thing, had to pay fake friends to come to her party.”

The girls behind her snicker.

“Wait—you’re getting paid?” Lori interjects.

I glare at my friend, who clamps her mouth shut.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve even coming here,” I say, and I notice a few of the production crew have stopped to watch us.

“Oh, relax. You know I was telling the truth before. Your mother
did
get around; it’s no secret,” she says matter-of-factly.

I take a step closer to her.

“What are you gonna do, Sheridan? Hit me?”

I’ve never hit anyone. But I want to so, so bad. “What are you so jealous of, Haley? I don’t get it.” I say.

Amazon steps in. “This isn’t funny, girls. My nerves do not need this today,”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Dad has entered the room.

“Then send her home, and you won’t have anything to 291

worry about,” I say.

Amazon looks at Haley. I know that Haley is the last person she wants to send home. I mean, look at her: if anyone can get teenage boys to watch some lame cooking show, it’s her.

“Jealous?” Haley says sharply, like she’s about to lose it.

“
I’m
jealous? Try that the other way around. I guess Ethan didn’t tell you that we never stopped seeing each other. And you were too dumb to figure that out when I opened the door of his house.” She flashes that evil grin. “And it’s so funny that you never wondered why he was so interested in someone like you.” She lifts her arms. “This. This TV show.

Ethan’s got big plans, baby.” Her face is scrunched up and she actually looks really ugly. “Duh, Cake Girl!” She cackles as Ethan moves forward.

“Shut up, Haley.” He turns to me, a deep wrinkle between his perfect blue eyes. “She’s a liar.”

Amazon crosses her arms. “Okay, you need to leave.” She points to Haley, who puts her hands up to her chest in fake shock.

“Whatever.” She raises a hand, beckoning to her brood.

But they don’t move. Haley flips her hair, leans in to me, and whispers, “You think you’re
it
. Ha! Even your own mother can’t stand you.”

Amazon is the only one close enough to hear that comment. She puts her hands on my shoulders. I guess she’s afraid I’m going to jump on Haley and start pounding, and 292

she’s not wrong. I want to, in the worst way.

“Go,” Amazon says firmly. And Haley sashays off in her high heels, all by herself.

Amazon looks at me. “A word, Sheridan?” She sounds like some scary school principal. I follow her to the corner by the staircase.

She stands up straight and circles her shoulders backward. I’m making her tense. “Sheridan, I don’t know what that was all about, but I am going to suggest to you that you stay focused on the show. This day is very important to your father. I can’t stress that enough. I’m sure you want to pull that girl’s hair out, but clearly she is delusional. You are an amazing young woman. Anyone can see that. Now. Can you regroup?”

I look up at her and nod. “Yes. I can.”

“Good. Don’t let me down.” She walks away, shouting last-minute instructions to a cameraman.

I sit down on the bottom step, take a few deep breaths.

I look over at Jack and Lori, who are talking to some of the other guests. As if they know that I need a few minutes on my own, to cool down.

Amazon has crossed the dining room and is talking to Dad, but they don’t look my way.

There are cameras everywhere, people checking equipment and lights. This is really going to happen. I sigh. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Mom should be here.

There’s a tap on my shoulder from behind. I turn and 293

see Mr. Roz. I can tell right away that he’s coming down from makeup—he’s got an orangey glow—and he’s wearing the brightest Hawaiian shirt I’ve ever seen. Tasteful? That’s questionable. “Sheridan.” He smiles big, as usual.

“Hey, Mr. Roz.” I stand up.

“You look like angel,” he says, and puts his arms out for a hug.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Frank is on me like white on rice. He pulls a pick out of his suit jacket and begins to fix my hair. He looks at Mr. Roz. “Please, man, not the hair!”

I smile apologetically. Frank walks away, shooting Roz threatening looks.

“What is
that
and what that thing in his lip?”

“That’s Frank and . . . don’t ask.”

Dad crosses the room and joins us. “Hey, guys.”

“Donovan!” Mr. Roz shakes his hand. “Look at our Sheridan! What a grown-up lady she is become!”

Dad’s eyebrows lift, and he nods. “Tell me about it.”

“All right, people.” Amazon only has one volume today: Obnoxiously Loud. “We’ll get started in about ten. Do not wander off, do not ruin your makeup, do not leave. If you have to sneeze, don’t. If you have to pee, hold it. No one move.”

And that’s when I remember. The cake. I never went to the bakery for the butterfly.

“Oh, God!” I run toward