Gilt_ By Invitation Only - Geneva Lee Page 0,4
Rio who can hook us up at the buffet.” Dad rubs his hands over his hair to tame it. He looks like a lot of other men in Vegas at the moment: unshaven and unwashed in yesterday’s clothes. Unlike those other men, though, he’s handsome with a strong jaw and salt and pepper hair. I’ve had the displeasure of watching women fall all over him since I was a kid. It’s how he landed mom—looks and potential. It turns out looks can’t make up for failure.
“Actually, Josie is dragging me out, so you are off the hook.” I cringe at the thought of graduation parties. They might be as dangerous as the all-you can eat seafood buffet that he’s offering me, but she’d made me swear I wouldn’t back out.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he suggests.
“Sure.” I stay noncommittally. That way when he forgets tomorrow I won’t be disappointed. It’s a survival mechanism I’d adopted since the first time he forgot my birthday.
Grabbing a few things from the fridge I start dinner. There’s always food in the house because I take care of that. I shop and I plan. Dad doesn’t bother to eat unless I put a meal in front of him, so there’s no danger of coming home to an empty fridge. I dump sauce into a pan and start boiling water for pasta. I can’t claim it's gourmet given the cheap ingredients, but I can produce spaghetti in under fifteen minutes. Take that Spago.
“This is really good, honey.” Dad twists his fork, collecting another bite, and shoves it into his mouth.
“I’ll put some in the fridge and you can heat it up for lunch.” It’s a lost cause. His entire diet consists of coffee, beer, and dinner if I’m around to cook.
He nods. We talk about summer plans and the shop. I have to remind him that I’m going to graduate next year. After I clean up the dishes, I peek into the living room where he’s turned on a sporting event. I know this because there is a ball and men trying to beat each other up to get it. My father’s obsession with sports did not transfer to me. On the upside that probably means his sports gambling problem won’t either.
“I’m going to grab a shower. Let Josie in?”
He raises his beer in acknowledgment of my request.
I stay under the hot water so long that my skin is tight by the time I abandon it. I can’t wash away my problems, but I can go out tonight and forget them. Wrapping a towel around my head, I wipe off the mirror with my palm. My cheeks are flushed which is the closest I get to having color. Unlike my peers I don’t spend all afternoon worshipping the god of skin cancer. Of course that means I have bluish circles under my eyes and every single blemish sticks out like a sore thumb.
By the time I towel dry my hair and head to my room, Josie is waiting. A few shimmery scraps of cloth are scattered over my bed. I narrow my eyes as I pick one up. No matter how I hold it up, I can’t decide what it is.
“Is this a scarf?” I ask finally.
Josie snatches it away. “That’s mine thank you very much.”
As long as she isn’t going to make me wear it, I have no further comment on the issue. She strips down and pulls it on over her thong. It’s a skimpy, black romper that dips to her naval.
“I have no boobs,” she complains as she tugs at it.
“Look on the bright side,” I say as I snag a pair of panties from my drawer, “if you did, you wouldn’t be able to wear that.”
“I guess you’re right.” She twists around observing herself in my vanity mirror. “How do I look?”
“Older than you are,” I say dryly. It’s the answer she wants to hear. Josie’s hair is a wild, mop of curls that mesh nicely with her high cheekbones and wide, espresso eyes. Her looks combined with that outfit will get her into any club in town. I’ll be riding her coattails or rather g-string to get myself inside. “Where did you find this?”
“Frederick took mom to the desert for the weekend. I borrowed a few things.” She pushes a dress into my hands. Josie and her mom are as close as I have to female role models in my life. I’m not exactly preening myself to become a trophy wife like my own