The Dream - Whitney Dineen Page 0,11
I’m going to do your hair and makeup and then we’re going out to that new bar on Main Street. I’m buying you a fancy lady drink.”
“I’m not going out tonight,” I maintain.
“Yes, you are.” Sammy starts slathering on the war paint before I can say “boo.” I suppose I could stop her if I really wanted to, but I suddenly get caught up in the excitement of getting all dolled up. Truth be told, I’m sick of wearing uniforms and it’ll be nice to pretend I’m somebody else for a change.
“Just make sure to make me look classy.”
“Honey, just because I like to look like a wild child doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are. Of course I’m gonna make you look classy.”
In a matter of minutes Sammy transforms me from a boring nursing home employee into a goddess.
My mouth hangs wide open when I see my long blonde hair is straightened so that it looks like a silky curtain. She smoked out my eyes and used a neutral color palette on my skin. My lips have been emphasized to a very kissable state with a bold red lipstick.
“I’m gorgeous!” I exclaim.
“You sure are, honey. Now follow me into the bedroom.”
That’s when she hands over a brand-new black cocktail dress that still has the tags hanging off it. “I can’t wear your dress before you do,” I tell her.
“Then I’m afraid this beauty is never gonna get worn. I bought it on sale two sizes too small three years ago in hopes that I’d lose some weight. It’s currently three sizes too small.” She takes it off the hanger and throws it at me. “It’s yours now.”
I hold up the short, sexy number in front of me and look in the full-length mirror. In a matter of seconds, I have the dress on and twirl around so I can appreciate every angle of its perfection. “I normally wouldn’t accept such a gift, but I look too darn good. Hurry up and change so we can go paint the town red!”
Sammy’s smile is blinding. “You know it, honey.” By seven thirty we’re walking out her front door looking like different people.
Chapter Six
February 18, 2006
Dear Molly,
Chad Adkinson is the Devil. He followed me down the hall to first period moaning and groaning, “Oh yeah, FelAshleyO, right there! Faster, harder … Oh baby, you know just what I want.” Everyone we passed turned around and laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
What’s wrong with people? Is there no common decency left in the world? I can’t wait to grow up and make something big out of my life so I can come back to this burp of town and rub their faces in my success. Maybe even kick Chad’s effing ass. On days like today, this fantasy is the only thing that keeps me going.
Creek Water has changed a lot since Mom and I first moved here. When the Frothinghams started to revitalize downtown, a slew of young professionals started to move in. I guess with being able to work online nowadays, they decided to get out of the big city and save some money.
The influx of new blood is responsible for the cool new restaurants and stores that have opened up. Fresh Catch is in the heart of Main Street right next door to the old sewing machine factory the Frothinghams have recently renovated.
Sammy parks her vintage, banana-yellow Karmann Ghia around the corner, and we walk from there. “Do you come here a lot?” I ask.
“I’ve been in a few times, but it’s not my regular crowd. That’s not to say I mind spending the night with a young stud occasionally.” She winks to emphasize her meaning. Yuck. “How ’bout you? Have you been here before?”
“Nope.” Sammy is my only friend left in town. The few friends I had all beat it out of Dodge after high school and didn’t return after college. That was my plan too, until my mom got sick, and I had to come home and take care of her.
I stop dead in my tracks as the truth of my situation whomps me over the head. I didn’t make good on any of my success fantasies. I didn’t move to a big city and get a great job. I’m not living high on the hog surrounded by stylish friends and exotic vacations.
I still live in Creek Water in the same trailer park I moved to fifteen years ago. I’m the assistant supervisor at