Nobody’s Perfect

Chapter 26

I can t believe I m flying first-class! sang Rachel a week later.

I d spent the previous week searching for a job. I d even had one interview. Mostly, however, I d been sitting at my computer tweaking my r sum and submitting to one place, then another. Sifting through emails to separate the wheat from the chaff got old fast. There was a lot of chaff. So much chaff.

But I didn t have to think about that right now because my two good friends-my best friends-were on a plane with me to New York. Mitch was officially gone, and Mom was looking out for Lucky.

I can t believe I m flying, muttered Abi. She d already checked in with Zeke three times on the way to the airport, so I could only hope she would be okay on this trip. She grabbed her armrests tightly, but she also jutted out her chin in a let s do this manner.

I m just glad you both decided to come with me. I marveled at how Abi and I were trying our best not to visibly lean away from Rachel. She d scratched her head a couple of times, and I was sure it was just psychological, but . . . one did not forget picking through one s friend s hair with a nit comb.

I should ve called that the Ride or Die Badge or the True Friendship Badge.

Deborah from Busy Mom Cosmetics had chastised me for recording about lice so close to the makeover. Fortunately, everything had been arranged so she couldn t renege on us.

Are you kidding? Rachel said. We get to stay at that new boutique hotel and then get full makeovers? This was more than worth having to draw up sub plans for today, tomorrow, and Monday.

I locked eyes with Abi, giving her a look that was half hey-how-are-you-doing-over-there and half I-know-this-is-tough-for-you-so-thanks.

We enjoyed adult beverages and all the other amenities of first class, including being greeted at baggage claim by a driver in an honest-to-goodness hat with an honest-to-goodness iPad with text that read Quackenbush.

You ve really got to change your name, Abi said.

Tell me about it.

Even so, we enjoyed champagne in the limo and arrived at the hotel to be greeted by a very thin woman in a pencil skirt. She looked a lot like Olive Oyl.

Vivian?

That s me!

I m Deborah.

How nice to finally meet you, I said enthusiastically, my overly loud southern accent bouncing around the New York streets. I clamped my mouth shut.

Come on inside, and let s get you checked into the hotel.

My head swirled as she went over a per diem and something about a suite that would be big enough for all of us. All we had to do was be downstairs the next morning at seven and bring my phone to record the entire process.

First class, a limo, a handler-still none of that prepared us for our room.

We had a suite to ourselves, and I stared at the gilt double doors thinking they looked like something from the soap operas I d watched during summers as a child. I had no choice but to fling those doors open in the melodramatic style of Erica Kane.

The space beyond felt as big as my house.

How many chandeliers can one suite hold? asked Abi. Sure enough, a huge chandelier hung over a small, round table, but then there was another over a dinette set to the left and another over a coffee table to the right. Straight ahead, we could see through opened french doors to a pair of king beds and two smaller chandeliers above each one.

If there s a chandelier over the bathtub, I m going to lose my mind.

Rachel ran ahead and soon her voice echoed out. Get ready to lose your mind!

Vivian, Abi said. This is . . . incredible.

I shrugged, but I was glad to provide something of value to my friends since they d put up with so much. Sure, I also felt a little guilty about leaving Mom behind, but I d make that up to her later.

Somehow.

Maybe with the trip to Napa?

In the foyer sat a round table with a vase of yellow roses and an envelope, a fancy envelope, the kind that held good surprises. What s this?

Before opening the envelope, I paused to smell the flowers. They were fresh because of course they were.

I opened the envelope. Inside were tickets.

To Hamilton .

Guys?

Rachel was off exploring the nooks and crannies of the suite, and Abi had hidden-no doubt to check in at home-so I yelled a little louder. Hey, y all?

What? each woman answered from a different area of the suite.

Um, we have tickets to a show tomorrow night.

Ooo, really? Which one? asked Rachel as she appeared from the primary bedroom.

Hamilton.

Excuse me, I thought you just said that we had tickets to Hamilton , Abi said from the kitchen area.

That s because we have tickets to Hamilton . The note says they thought we might like to have some place to go after we got all dressed up.

Rachel and Abi simply looked at me for a few more seconds before dancing in a circle. We re gonna see Hamilton . . . we re gonna see Hamilton . . . which turned into a raucous chorus about how we had no intention of ever throwing away our shot.

At least, until a dignified hotel employee knocked on the door and asked us to please keep it down.

The alarm went off a little early for my taste, but then I remembered our schedule for the day. I nudged Rachel, who was sharing a bed with me. Then I hopped to my feet and yanked the covers off Abi, who muttered, Don t you ever do that again.

We gotta be downstairs in thirty minutes!

Both Abi and Rachel reacted to this information with a groan.

Hamilton , bitches!

That got their attention.

Don t ever do that again, either, Abi said without looking up from her phone.

Rachel trudged to the bathroom, scratching the back of her head while yawning. I headed to the tiny powder room in the foyer of our suite. No need for makeup this morning. Deborah s instructions said the Busy Mom professionals would prefer a blank canvas.

I couldn t find any coffee in the kitchen-maybe rich people are supposed to think ahead to order room service? Probably.

Either way, we went downstairs with grumbling stomachs and the hope that this makeover would include something to eat other than cucumbers that had been intended for our eyes. Indeed, there was a table with some pastries, some kind of mini quiche, and fruit.

Feeling better? I asked Abi when she made a moan of something between relief and pleasure.

Marginally. Coffee would be better.

Deborah said that coffee would dry out our skin, Rachel said. She was a secret morning person. Once she got started, she was good. Abi and me? Not so much.

I ll moisturize, Abi said, because coffee also keeps me from getting a headache.

I looked around the hotel event room until I spied Deborah in today s pencil skirt, a checked number that somehow made her look even thinner. I waved her over. Hey, Deborah? Could we possibly get some coffee?

She raised one of her immaculately penciled-in eyebrows. Well, we ll have caffeine in some of the undereye gel we re about to provide you. So maybe an herbal tea? Coffee just isn t good for you or for your skin.

If looks could kill, Deborah would ve been dead, and Abi s glare would ve been the culprit.

You know what? Coffee shouldn t be a problem, Deborah said with a fake smile. I ll get right on that.

I d like a cup, too, please! Rachel and I said in unison.

I took out my phone, but Abi put her hand on my arm. There will be no recording until after the coffee.

But we have to take the before shots, I said.

Oh, I can do that for you, said a curvy brunette who d sidled up next to us. A professional camera bounced against her ample bosom, but it was her voice that captured my attention. It held a hint of a southern accent, so I liked her instantly. I can record video for you today, too.

Awesome, I said as I gestured for Abi and Rachel to come over and get our before pictures taken. We posed together and separately while our new friend wielded her camera. Once we were done, I extended my hand. Hi, I m Vivian.

I m Laura Lee. Laura Lee Simmons, that is.

Double name, I see. Where are you from, Laura Lee?

Originally from Tennessee, but I got an internship with Busy Mom Cosmetics, and here I am.

I shook hands with her. I m glad to have another southerner in the house. And you re going to record everything and then send it to me?

That s the plan.

Well, then. Thank you!

By that time the coffee had arrived.

So had the spa team. Laura Lee flitted around with her camera, capturing all the action. This video was going to take a million years to edit.

Once we d had manicures and pedicures, the hairstylists arrived.

I do appreciate that you got someone who knows how to work with my hair texture, Abi said.

Of course! Deborah said. We at Busy Mom Cosmetics believe that all women should be represented. Just wait until you see the foundation shades we have.

Abi looked at the camera with an expression of pleasant surprise.

I don t know if I have ever been this pampered, I said to the camera Laura Lee held. So far, I can t thank Busy Mom Cosmetics enough. The exfoliant scrub has really smoothed my skin, and look at what this undereye gel has done! I know y all have been staring at the bags under my eyes in all the other videos. Don t lie.

Before we got into makeup or outfits, it was time for lunch. Deborah brought us chicken salad sandwiches-not as good as mine, but I d never tell-on fancy china. We ate and laughed and then returned for our makeup. Rachel still felt sensitive about letting someone touch her hair, but she agreed to a touch-up of her roots and some basic styling. She and her makeup artist then spent at least fifteen minutes trying different eyeshadow shades on the inside of her arm.

Oh, look at this lipstick, she said, holding up a dark-wine red that suited both her copper complexion and her choice of beverages.

And it will stay on for hours , Deborah promised.

With words of thanks and lots of preening for both the camera and the mirrors, we left the room dedicated to hair and makeup and went next door to a room with racks full of clothes, tables full of accessories, and a corner of shoeboxes. It was like walking into a dream closet.

Champagne, ladies? asked Deborah.

Doesn t that dry out the skin? I asked.

Abi put a hand on my shoulder. Vivian, if you ruin this moment for me, I swear . . .

Rachel, nose crinkled, asked, What kind of champagne is it?

Deborah drew a bottle from a bucket full. Schramsberg?

I couldn t help but laugh. Schramsberg? Rachel will take the entire bottle.

For real, Abi said. I m glad to see you have bottles for the rest of us.

Very funny, Rachel said. Y all are acting like I m a lush who doesn t share my wine with you.

I kid, I said. You re a big proponent of sharing is caring. Without your expert guidance, I d still be drinking the cheap stuff.

We took our flutes and clinked them with a toast to Busy Mom Cosmetics.

Laura Lee giggled a little but captured the whole exchange.

Well, Deborah said in a subtle bid to regain order. As you well know, we at Busy Mom Cosmetics have yet to branch out into couture, but we ve partnered with an up-and-coming designer to make sure you each have an outfit that matches your body type.

And so it began.

They d set up three different privacy screens, and it was too fancy for words. Some considerate soul had even put a little table behind the screen for our champagne glasses. We each took a few dresses with us and then vowed to meet in the middle, giggling like schoolgirls as we went.

Abi started with a floor-length gray gown. I tried on a high-necked, long-sleeved number in red, and Rachel finally emerged in a lime-green two-piece.

We all looked at each other and said, No.

Next, I tried on a black cocktail dress with a hint of cleavage.

Vivian, are you going to a funeral or to see the brainchild of Lin-Manuel Miranda? Abi asked.

I took in her salmon-pink dress with a huge drape over the shoulders. Are you a Golden Girl?

Rachel laughed, but then we took in the lace minidress that barely covered her butt.

Before we could comment, she said, I know, I know!

I surveyed my choices. They were all matronly. Except the red one that consisted of a sparkly bustier with a gauzy skirt.

Matron, my ass, I muttered. But I ll show them how silly I look in things like this.

Only, Abi didn t even crack a smile. Instead, she said, That s the one.

But-

Ooo, Vivian, where did you find those boobs? Rachel asked.

This was supposed to be a joke, y all.

Nope. That s your look, Abi said. You don t wear enough red.

My heart squeezed in on itself. If ever there were a dress that was the opposite of anything Mitch had ever picked out, it was this dress. I would keep it. I would wear it.

I took in Abi, who wore a shorter turquoise number that clung to her every curve in a very flattering way. And I think that s your look.

She smiled. Thank you!

What about me? asked Rachel as she twirled in a navy-blue dress with a halter top and a low-cut back.

Perfect! Abi and I said together.

I don t know. I really liked the lime one, Deborah said.

Abi and I both gave her a look.

Blue it is!

From there we went over to the area with the shoes. Abi quickly picked out a pair of silver Manolos and strutted around the room to show them off.

And then promptly sat down and took them off.

I couldn t resist whispering to the camera, They are gorgeous shoes, but Abi s resting her feet before we go out tonight. That s what we call smart.

Rachel s petite feet looked good in everything, but she settled on a pair of pearly Jimmy Choos.

Then Deborah turned to me. Vivian? It s your turn.

I hesitated. Previous pedicure notwithstanding, I did not have pretty feet. They rather resembled a duck s feet: wide at the toes but narrow at the heel. I chose the most sensible pair I saw: low-heeled Mary Janes.

No, ma am, Abi said.

But-

Rachel backed her up with a Nope.

I tried again, a pair of sparkly clogs.

Try again, Abi said.

But-

Nope, Rachel again said.

Let me help, Deborah said. I think I know just the shoes.

She held up a pair of black Louboutins that had a rhinestone on each shoe. I had never salivated at the sight of a pair of shoes before, but that day I did. I wanted those shoes to fit my feet with a passion that was destined to be dashed.

I took a deep breath and slid my feet into the shoes, wobbling a bit with the height.

Heel first, Abi coached.

Rather than trying to walk on my tiptoes, I walked around as she suggested, trusting those little heels to hold me steady.

They did! And they didn t hurt!

Laura Lee whooped, and Deborah clapped her hands together. High fives all around?

And that was just what we did. We high-fived. Laura Lee took a video, one of those boomerang things where our hands came together, then went out and back in over and over again. We laughed and laughed until I cried, at which point Deborah scolded me for smearing my mascara.

I can t help it, I said. When I blink, I smudge!

For some reason, Rachel thought that was funny. The champagne had to be going to her head, because it had most certainly found mine.

Deborah fussed over the smudges, then we all posed together and separately, models for Busy Mom Cosmetics. When I looked over Laura Lee s shoulder at some of the shots, I had to admit we cleaned up rather nicely. Now it was just a matter of getting all of us to the theater.

Anything else you want to record before I send you off to Hamilton ? Deborah asked once we stood next to the valet stand in the downstairs garage.

Thank you, Busy Mom Cosmetics, for helping us earn our Cinderella Badges, and thank you, Deborah, for being our fairy godmother!

Abi and Rachel both spoke to the camera, too, but I wasn t paying attention to what they said. I wanted to soak in this moment, the happiness of it, how pretty I felt and how great it was to share it with my friends.

While we waited for the limo to pull up, Laura Lee said, I ll put everything in Dropbox and send you the link so you can edit later.

Define later.

Oh, I was hoping you d have the video up tomorrow, Deborah said with a smile.

I didn t want to think about editing later, but if I wanted to make a go of being a YouTube personality, then these were the sacrifices I d have to make.

Seemed rather reasonable, all things considered.

Or maybe that was the champagne talking.

Only when we stepped into the limo to head to the show did I have a sobering thought: If I d never discovered that Mitch wanted to divorce me, then I wouldn t have had this moment. I might ve never made anything of my YouTube channel. I would ve never known I could make such opportunities happen or that I had a personality people found interesting. I would ve never seen Hamilton , probably never visited New York. And I sure as heck wouldn t have learned I could wear Louboutins.