Hey Girl (Turn it Up #9)

Chapter 11

11

REBECCA

I don’t know how I had the balls to come back here. After sort of getting it on in her backyard, I didn’t think I’d have the nerve to look Mayzie or Jack in the eye. Yet here I am.

I think coming back to the deck to find Jack draped over Mayzie on one of their chaise loungers while his mouth mauled hers helped ease the mortification.

Anyway, after all of us composed our horny asses and sat back down, I shyly announced that I had, ahem, calmed down, and was going to make every effort to be at the St. Michelle celebration. And when I’d quietly conveyed to Mayzie that I felt awkward and inadequate and wished there was a way I could get gussied up and feel a little more confident, she offered to help me get ready.

Fast forward to today.

Mayzie’s house is big and spacious, but it’s modest and cozy at the same time, making me feel strangely right at home.

“Thank you again for having me over and helping me get ready,” I gratefully tell her as I follow her up the stairs to where her bedroom and ensuite bathroom are.

“Well…” she trails off as she stops her ascent and turns to me. “Don’t thank me yet,” her features pull together, as she seems to cringe.

Time comes crashing to a stop and the oxygen gets sucked from the room. It’s what happens whenever something unexpected happens.

“Wh- what do you mean?” I ask, as my stomach turns over and fills with dread. Dammit, I had been so calm and talking normally.

“I uh… called someone to help,” she confesses before swiftly turning and resuming our journey up the stairs, leaving me no choice but to chase after her.

“Mayzie,” I protest, slightly breathless, either from the short sprint or the anxiety, it’s tough to say. “I can’t…”

We approach what I presume is her bedroom before she briskly turns to face me again. “You can,” she insists, her voice slightly firm before softening her tone. “You let Chris fucking Richards into your life. You’re dating him. Look at what you’ve accomplished since then,” she waves her hands up and down my person. “You came over to my house with no problem at all. And if you can date my husband’s crazy friend, you can open yourself to another… “—she squints one eye and looks at the ceiling—“complicated personality. One that can really help you feel not only comfortable in your own skin, but powerful in it.”

Shit. She has a point.

“Oh, that’s the intercom to the driveway gate,” she explains. “Hang on.” She turns and heads for the door.

I pace and look around the room, seriously considering hiding in Mayzie’s hamper when I hear a duet of voices coming up the stairs and getting closer. Fuck-a-duck!

“Maze, I don’t have time for this ridiculousness,” I hear a high-pitched man’s voice. “Outta my way, biatch!”

“Don’t you biatch me!” She admonishes back. “If you go charging in there before I can prepare her, you’re going to scare her and set her back weeks of self-care!”

“Prepare her? What am I, some big, explosive personality that is too much for some people to take?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Oh Em Gee, that’s so sweet.” That seems to calm Crazy Boy down a bit before Mayzie speaks again.

“So just calm your face while I go talk to her a minute.”

“Fine. Just don’t take too long.”

“And just where do you have to be right now?”

Silence.

“Thought so.”

Mayzie reappears in the doorway.

“Okay. Hair and clothes. Do you trust me?”

“Uh…”

“This is a good friend of mine,” she goes on to explain. “He’s been styling me for years. And I haven’t kept him around that long just because he’s damn good at what he does. He makes me feel like the best version of myself when I need him to, and once you get past the very overwhelming first impression, he’s such a sweetheart.”

“Hell-OOOOO?” I hear the guy call out as Mayzie rolls her eyes.

“And a bit of a pain in the ass. But will you meet him? Maybe he can help you look exactly like you want, and even give you some tips so that you don’t have to make regular trips to salons and clothing stores. What do you say?”

“Mayzie, I can’t. I… I just…”

“Your daily challenge!” Her eyes go wide with her own statement like it took her just as much as surprise. “This will be your daily challenge!”

“Mayzie! This is t-too big of a challenge!” My stutter ramps up along with my nerves. “I do little challenges every day. N-nothing this big! Oh God, do you have a paper bag?”

“How about…” Mayzie’s eyes look to the ceiling as she thinks. “You do this huge challenge, and you’re set for the week! You’re off the hook with the little daily challenges for a few days!”

And just like that, my agitation halts its rapid uphill climb. I do like the sound of that. But shit, I hate this. I really hate this. This is too much.

But that’s the point of a challenge.

Mayzie looks like she sees the battle taking place behind my eyes and walks over to take my hands.

“But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she reminds me, giving them a soft squeeze. “I’ll send him away, or you can go if that’s what you want.”

I think about my options as I press my lips together.

I could meet this guy, let him scare the shit out of me (possibly literally) and have a panic attack on my way out to car and try to drive home sobbing. That would really do me in for a while. I wouldn’t be able to leave my house for days.

I could just go home. But then what? I ask myself as I think this through to the end. I’ll sit on my couch and wonder if this guy could have helped me look spectacular, giving me a confidence boost. I’d also wonder how it would’ve felt to be able to say I jumped my biggest hurdle to date.

“I’ll meet him,” I tell Mayzie in a trembling whisper before I can change my mind.

Mayzie’s shoulders relax along with her warm smile and I can see the pride she has in me. It gives me a little extra bump of affirmation as I roll my shoulders and blow out a slow breath.

“Okay Enrique,” she calls over her shoulder. “You can come -,”

The door springs open before she can finish, smacking against the wall as a small man in New York black launches through the opening, making me startle and climb into the vanity chair. Backwards, I cower, peering at him above the back rest.

His hair is gelled to stand up in frosty spikes, and he’s wearing designer sunglasses - even though we’re inside - that he snatches off his face to assess me.

“Hi,” I barely utter in a murmur as I try to be brave and straighten up a little.

A quick vertical shift of his gaze and two seconds of silence later, he opens his mouth.

“AGGGGGGGHHHH!” He shrieks, his eyebrows shooting up as he brings his hands to either side of his face like he’s trying to contain his rapidly-spreading smile.

The abrupt siren of his exclamation has me swiftly hunkering down again as he belts on.

“Oh my gawwwwd, Maze,” he turns between Mayzie’s cringed grimace and my partially hidden face. “She’s absolutely ADORABLE!”

He starts to jump in place until he catches sight of Mayzie pressing her palms towards the floor in the calm down gesture and he promptly stops and straightens, clearing his throat with a hand to his chest.

“Pleased to meet you, Rebecca,” he says, several octaves lower.

“You too,” I barely whisper, sitting up straighter again.

“Mayzie, be a lamb and go fetch us some of your finest red wine,” Enrique exhales, not removing his eyes from me.

She rolls her eyes with a smirk before tilting her chin up at me. “Okay?” She asks, possibly worried about leaving two oppositely extreme personalities alone in a room together.

I blink slowly and nod my head before she turns and walks out of her immaculate bathroom as Enrique regards me with an endearing sigh, his smile much more relaxed. Reaching in his back pocket, he produces a wallet before pulling up a nearby chair to sit across from me.

“Rebecca,” he begins, as he flips through his wallet, looking for something he must want to show me. “We’re going to have… so … much fun,” he draws out while leafing through cards and receipts before he finally finds what he’s looking for.

A proud but nostalgic smirk spreads his lips as he holds a small square out to me. I reach out and take it, looking down to see a little boy in loose-fitting clothes that don’t match, his arms wrapped around himself as if in fright and his big blue eyes wide with uncertainty. His lips are tucked together and his brow furrowed. He looks scared of his own shadow.

I look between him and the photo a couple of times for reference before asking, “This is you?” I only vaguely register that my words came out smoothly.

“It was,” he raises a sharp eyebrow. “Back when I was afraid to exist outside my own head,” he takes the photo back and nestles it back in his wallet. “All I knew about myself was I was different and that couldn’t be good. I didn’t think it was acceptable.”

“H-,” the word stalls in my mouth and I close my eyes and take a breath before giving it another go. “How did you change?”

“We all have that moment that comes to us in its own time,” he explains, tucking his wallet back in his pocket. “For me it was when my parents got me into a private school where bullying was prohibited, and creativity and self-expression were encouraged. I found out that being different was not only acceptable, but necessary.”

He pins me with a willful stare as I swallow, absorbing everything he’s just confided.

“That’s when I realized that I was fucking fabulous - something I would not be if I were the same as everyone else. Rebecca,” he draws in a breath and closes his eyes, looking almost dreamy. “You are beautifully different. You don’t owe anyone a goddamn thing, least of all the miscreants of society. You don’t have to impress a single damn person with your speech when you have so many qualities going for you to wow people with.”

I can’t help the gasp that pulls up in my chest and being pushed out between my lips. No one has ever said anything like this to me before. I’ve had people in my life that are kind and understanding sure, but I don’t think anyone has ever said something so uplifting to me.

“I do?” I ask, like an idiot. Not quite the productive retort I was going for but I’m so pleasantly aghast. Then again, he only just met me so it can be considered a valid question.

“Yes,” he affirms with a curt nod. “Look how brave you are, talking to me right now. A new person to you, with a hell of a lot more going on than most people you encounter.” He grins triumphantly and I can’t help but feel the corners of my own mouth pull outward a little bit as he continues. “Judgemental assholes are that way because they are cowardly. They are scared shitless of being exposed as frauds, and eager to direct negative attention elsewhere. But you are brave. Brave and creative - yes, I saw your brilliant album covers - and I can already tell that you are kind and open-minded.”

Enrique rises and gingerly takes hold of my chair. I tense slightly but relax when I see he is slowly rotating me to face the mirror.

“And because everybody needs this kind of ego boost,” he gives a charming eyeroll with a half-smirk, “I’m going to go ahead and point out that your skin is like porcelain, your features are strong yet defined - a very rare combination - and you have mysteriously pretty eyes behind those stylish specs of yours that look like they can’t decide if they want to be grey or a light green. Your hair…” He picks up a light brown strand and examines it between his fingertips and purses his lips. “Okay, it honestly could use a little life breathed into it, but that’s what I’m here for!” He drops my hair and spreads his arms wide, presenting himself yet again as the shit, which I’m beginning to think he really is.

“Hi,” Mayzie announces her return from the doorway. She’s holding an uncorked bottle of wine in one hand and three glasses dangle by the stems in her other as she deadpans at Enrique expectantly.

“Marvelous.” He nods at the bottle and walks over to relieve her of one of the glasses before holding it out to her while he continues his appraisal of me.

Mayzie rolls her eyes, pouring red liquid into his glass while he holds his fingers to his chin.

“Kristen Bell - no,” he shakes his head, blinking away whatever thought that was as Mayzie comes over to me and sets the other two glasses down while she pours. “Jennifer Lawrence,” he squints his eyes before shaking his head brashly again. “No! Come on, Enrique, think!” He scolds himself before taking a hearty drink of the wine as if it’s genius juice.

“What’s he doing?” I whisper, as Mayzie hands me a glass.

“Oh,” she lightly guffaws as she lifts her own glass. “Enrique likes to assign a certain celebrity to all his new clients. It helps with his creative vision,” she shrugs casually before sipping her wine.

“Oh,” I nod absently before bringing the glass to my lips and taking a drink. The liquid is strong but fruity and it leaves a delightfully warm trail behind as it ventures down my throat to my stomach. Ooh…that’s good.

“Exactly,” Enrique pipes up in response to Mayzie’s explanation of his technique. “Take your girl here,” he gestures an arm at her. “The little girl next door trying to look tough in her ripped jeans….”

Mayzie rolls her eyes.

“A little Jenna Dewan meets Anna Kendrick combo in my mind.” He points to his head before clapping. “And bam! Sweet and sexy little badass rock wife.” He presents her with another wave as I take another sip, drinking in his words as well as the wine.

“And Matt’s boho beauty wife Melanie?” He continues. “Tiffany Amber Thiessen logged away and ka-chow! Boho smoke show baby!”

I nod, starting to get it and tilt my glass again, only to find it’s empty. And my nerves are gone. I’m listening to Enrique as if I’ve known him for years, and we’re just having chill banter in a bathroom. Weird.

Enrique straightens up, looking pleased with himself. Downing the rest of his own glass, he sets it down. “I’m going to fetch my artillery from the front door,” he announces and departs out the door.

“Well?” Mayzie tests the Randall, taking a pulse on my current mental state. “How are you doing there?” She asks, with a curious tilt of her head.

“I’m…shockingly okay,” I say, and once again, didn’t stammer. “No one’s ever gotten through to me that I’m not broken quite like he has,” I muse.

“Oh honey, I’m glad,” she exhales, rubbing my back comfortingly.

I don’t know if this is my moment that Enrique was referring to, but something’s happening to me as we speak. I draw in a long, deep breath, inflating my lungs with the imaginary courage of a lion. Letting my chest puff up and reveling in the pleasure, I hold it for a moment before letting it out like a beautiful cleanse, just as Enrique re-emerges in the doorway, this time toting two very large and elaborate black briefcases.

“I’ve got it,” it blurts out ominously as he stares at me.

“Got what?” Mayzie and I both ask.

“Rachel McAdams!” He drops one of the briefcases to point at me.

“Circa what?” Mayzie asks, eyebrows raised in interest.

“Circa sucking Ryan Gosling’s face off on stage at the MTV Movie Awards!” He announces, unfaltering.

“Yes!” Mayzie cries as I feel a zing of adrenaline shoot up my chest. It’s like Enrique is psychic and guessed my ultimate celebrity thirst trap.

Note to self: Spank off to The Notebook later.

Looking like someone that got to play real life tonsil hockey with Ryan? Sign me up.

I take another fortifying breath and hold out my glass.

“Mayzie… hit me.” She giggles lightly as she turns for the wine bottle. I suck up the gumption to look Enrique solemnly in the eye. “Enrique… do your all.”

He does a double take as he sets down the other briefcase, looking up in disbelief. “My all? As in… no restrictions?” his gaze seeks mine for confirmation and I narrow my eyes.

“Go forth with your vision and don’t hold back!” I affirm his hopes and dreams as is face contorts, trying to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from springing free.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy,” he sniffs.