Chapter 23: What to Do When Your Boss Pays for an Expensive Makeover That You Didn’t Ask For

Octavia was shocked to walk outside (or do her best to walk in the heels she’d been given) of the building to see the sky had progressed to shades of dusky evening.

As she tottered to the car, she frowned at her reflection in the black windows of the SUV. No way in hell would she go anywhere looking like that.

She could barely walk in those heels, and the hairs of her wig kept falling in front of her face and ending up in her mouth.

And in spite of what Ambrosia had surmised, her “large” middle could not fit in the dress. She was pretty sure she would pass out from suffocation in the next hour.

Besides, if she couldn’t breathe, how could she eat? And if she couldn’t eat, what was the point of going to the dumb gala anyway? You know, besides complying with her boss’s wishes, of course.

“Once Yosef leaves me at the office, he will drop you at the event location,” Adelaide said, climbing into the car.

Octavia had to enact a strange shuffle to get into the car. By the time she was seated, she was out of breath.

“I need to go by my apartment real quick,” Octavia said.

“Why?”

“I need my contacts,” Octavia said. “Helena was adamant that I not wear my glasses tonight. They don’t go with the dress.”

Adelaide noted Octavia’s red frames with bright-pink dots and sighed. “Fine. He’ll take you back after dropping me off. But you better not be late.”

Once Yosef pulled up in front of Octavia’s apartment building, she hopped out—this being easier to accomplish than getting in since she’d taken off the heels.

She said to the driver, “I’ll only be a few minutes. Fifteen tops.”

Yosef wondered how long it took to put in contacts while Octavia ran up the stairs to her floor.

On the drive there, she had been texting Gracie.

Octavia

Help!

Gracie

Damn u Octavia. This better be gud. I was in the middle of fav show.

Octavia

Aren’t u at my place?

Gracie

Yeah. What’s your point?

Octavia

Gud. On my way back—I’ve got an emergency on my hands.

Gracie

does it have anything to do with the silly function or whatvr that you R supposed to be @ 2nite?

Octavia

Um YES. I got this makeover for it…and its terrible.

Gracie

Y? Do U look bad.

Octavia

No actually, I look pretty great.

Gracie

…okay…???

Octavia

But not like myself. Ull c when I get there. No WAY am I going out like this.

When Octavia burst through the door, Gracie took one look at her, and her eyes widened.

“Holy fuck,” she said.

“I know,” Octavia whined. “Quick, help me fix this!”

Gracie shook her head. “This isn’t really my department of expertise.”

“Well, I need something! The car’s downstairs waiting for me, and that dumb event starts in less than an hour. What am I going to do?” she wailed.

Sierra chose that moment to walk in. She saw Octavia and did a double take.

“Octavia?! How the hell are you—?” Sierra couldn’t even finish her sentence.

“Don’t ask. All I can say is that a Helena, an Ambrosia, and a Nina were involved, and I lost five percent of my body hair in the most excruciatingly painful way possible.”

Sierra crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, so now you’re trying to steal Raemon Kentworth from me? How dare you? I saw him first!”

“You can have him!” Octavia exclaimed in exasperation. “But first, help me get out of this accursed dress!”

“She has a function to go to with him tonight,” Gracie explained to Sierra. At the sight of Sierra’s horrified face, she added, “In a purely professional capacity, of course.”

Sierra snorted. “Why would I help you go on a date with my man?”

“Damn it, Sierra! How about this? If you help me find something I can breathe in to wear in the next fifteen minutes, I’ll…I’ll…bring you the coffee cup he drinks out of.”

Sierra did not seem to find her offer compelling.

“Look at it this way,” Gracie offered, “if you don’t help her, she’ll go to the event looking like that. And he’s only seen her in T-shirts and sneakers.

“He might start feeling some type of way if he sees her in that dress. With makeup. In heels.”

Sierra considered Gracie’s words and then a flicker of resolution sprung within her eyes.

“Let’s do this,” she said.

While Gracie ran downstairs to see if Yolanda was home and able to work some magic on Octavia’s head, Sierra observed her dress critically.

Then she went to her room and returned with a large pair of scissors.

Octavia eyed her warily, but Sierra pounced on her dress before Octavia had time to flinch and began snipping at the cinched waist.

In seconds, she could feel the material loosening over her middle, and she let out a sigh of relief.

She watched as pieces of the velvety ribbon that had been holding in the middle of her dress fell to the floor.

As Sierra’s scissors kept snipping, they were soon followed by the fringe trim at the hem and sleeves.

When she was done, all that was left was a plain black dress with short sleeves and a hidden silver-etched pattern. It looked something like a formal, shiny T-shirt.

“There,” Sierra said, stepping back to observe her handiwork.

Octavia observed her reflection in the window at one end of the wall. She noted how much more comfortable she felt. She was amazed.

The dress looked like a completely new creation, but it still seemed like some high-end piece of clothing. But what amazed her most was the physical evidence of Sierra actually possessing a useful skill.

“Wow,” Octavia said. “This is…amazing, Sierra.”

Gracie and Yolanda came through the door, and Yolanda soon set to work on Octavia’s head.

She shook her head firmly at the sight of the wig, declaring that over her dead body would Octavia go anywhere important styled by anyone but her, and set to work detaching the wig from Octavia’s head.

While Yolanda worked on her hair, Sierra and Gracie tackled Octavia’s face, Sierra taking the lead and Gracie doing whatever it was Sierra told her to do.

The eyelashes came off, the highlighter and contour were removed, and the dark burgundy lipstick was wiped clean.

After the three of them stepped back, Octavia was left with a smooth, dark brown complexion and light coat of lip gloss.

Her eyelids were lightly dusted with gold and discreetly lined black, and her hair was braided around the front of her head and combed out into a glorious Afro at the back, her edges slicked and flat.

“Perfect!” Octavia said. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror Sierra propped up before her. “You guys have just saved my life!”

“All right, you better get going now,” Gracie said.

“Oh, shit! I forgot about the shoes!” Octavia said. She looked at the pair of silver heels she had tossed onto the floor only minutes ago. “If only I could wear my sneakers,” Octavia said.

Sierra’s face lit up, and she ran off in the direction of her room. She returned with a pair of sneakers in hand.

They were a strange cross between formal and athletic wear, creating a visual image that shouldn’t have worked but somehow did.

They were high-tops, velvety black on the outside with silver jewels sewn onto the sides and toe box. The laces were silver-speckled black cords.

“Here,” Sierra said, offering them to Octavia, “I bought them for myself, but they were too big for me. You might as well have them.”

“Thanks,” Octavia said, “I honestly owe you one, Sierra.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sierra replied, shrugging. “Just refund the two hundred dollars I spent on them by tomorrow.”

“Seriously?” Octavia said.

“Plus fifteen ninety-nine for shipping.”

“There’s the Sierra I know,” Octavia said with a sigh. But she gratefully put on the shoes. They seemed as if they were made for her.

At last Octavia hurriedly slid her contact lenses onto her eyes and bounded toward the door.

Turning to give them all an excited thumbs-up, she then snatched up the clutch purse Ambrosia had given her and stepped out into the night air.

She hoped neither Helena nor Ambrosia would be upset by the fact that she and her friends…and Sierra…had essentially undone everything that had been accomplished that day.