Still, since he told me to get ready, I guess I should at least try to put on some makeup, do my hair and wait for the clothes that he’s going to “figure out.”
I don’t really have a lot of stuff on my vanity, so I just put some powder on my nose and apply light eye shadow. As for my hair, it sits limp and boring around my face after I undo the chignon. Do I have enough time to attempt anything fancy?
Do you know how to do anything fancy?
I sigh at the thought. I don’t know how to do anything with my hair except pull it back into a bun. My mom used to do all sorts of cool, complicated braids for my hair when I was little, but I never learned. It seemed like she’d always be around.
A sudden pang pierces my chest, and I bite my lip. I miss her terribly. Maybe it’s that horrible call I got from Dad earlier that’s making me so sad. She would’ve never asked me to do something I didn’t want to do. She certainly wouldn’t have asked me to marry a man I didn’t love just so Dad could have an easier time winning an election.
Annoyed with myself for being moody, I run a plastic comb ruthlessly through my hair and twist it into a chignon again. It will have to do.
As I study myself, I wonder if David is going to be embarrassed if I show up like this. The women he’s seen with look so sophisticated and beautiful…and I’m neither. Or maybe it won’t matter. It isn’t like I’m his date.
Regardless, I don’t know what more I can do. Should I look up some makeup tutorials on YouTube? But what if I mess it up? And how much time do I have to practice?
Oh, man. I wish David had told me I needed to go to this event yesterday. That way, I could’ve spent the day getting ready rather than watching those training videos. And should I pack some things? Maybe a notebook and a pen in case he needs me to take notes? He should’ve been more specific about my duties at the auction. Hopefully he doesn’t expect me to bid, because I have no money for that.
The doorbell rings, and I bite my lip, feeling a little queasy. I’m just not ready for this. But I can’t pretend I’m not home, either. David obviously needs me.
I go over and open the door to find a couple who are too gorgeous and well-dressed to be couriers. The man has a forbidding look, standing protectively over the woman, his piercing blue eyes cataloging his surroundings. He’s holding a couple of garment bags. The woman is petite and stunning, with fine features and a warm smile.
She waves. “Hi. I’m Sophia Pryce. David sent me.”
No judging. Just friendliness. I relax a little, then remember I should smile, too, which I do. “Hi. I’m Erin. Would you like to…?” I gesture them in, wondering why her name sounds vaguely familiar.
When the man next to her doesn’t say anything, she pokes him in the side.
“I’m Dane,” he says grudgingly.
I’ve heard of Dane Pryce, but I never had a chance to meet him. I’m a little surprised that he and David are good friends, since David’s such a great, personable guy. Opposites must attract.
“Hi,” I say, then watch Dane and Sophia take up the space in my small living room.
Dane puts the garment bags down on the back of a dining chair. Sophia smiles and says, “I wasn’t sure what you like, but I thought something simple and classic would work well.”
“Thank you. Simple and classic is perfect,” I say, since my makeup and hair are simple as well. I still don’t know precisely what David needs me at the charity function for, so I want to be versatile.
I wonder if they’re going to leave now that they’ve accomplished what they came here to do. But Sophia comes closer and peers at the skin around my eyes. Oh, no. Do I have something there?
“I love what you did, but do you mind if I make a little adjustment?” Sophia asks.
I knew it! I knew I didn’t do a good job. I smile awkwardly, embarrassed and flustered. “Um, sure. You can do whatever you want. Let me bring my makeup out.” I rush to the bedroom, grab my small makeup bag and bring it over to her.
We sit down at my dining table. She takes out the eyeliner pencil I bought on a whim—but have never used—eye shadows and some brushes.
“Can you close your eyes?” she asks.
“Sure.” I do as I’m told. I can feel a little tugging and pulling, the touch light and soft. Nerves jitter through me, and I hope Sophia knows how to make me more presentable.
“Hmm. That looks better. You can open your eyes now.” She opens a compact and directs the small mirror my way.
I blink at the smoky thing she did. It makes my eyes look bigger and darker. Amazingly, I actually look somewhat glamorous now. “Wow. You’re a genius.”
She flushes. “It’s just some stage makeup. I learned how to do it when I was a young girl.”
“Really?” Must be how sophisticated people spend their childhood. I still don’t know how to do it, and I’m twenty-six.
“I used to compete in figure skating. So.” She shrugs. “Now, let’s help you pick out a dress. Dane, do you mind opening the bags?”