Dear Cupid

Chapter 8

"What do you mean you can't take me anymore?!" Darren winced and had to move the phone away from his ear as Marissa screamed at him for changing his mind about taking her to the official launch party of the Caribanna Club. 

"Look, I'm sorry but my grandma comes first before anybody else, and anything that concerns her and makes her happy, I do! There'll be plenty more parties anyway." Darren tried to sound as remorseful as any jerk can possibly manage, with failure, of course.

"But I've already bought the dress already and booked the limo and everything! Dad will totally screw at me, you have to take me there Darren, I can't miss it! Beyonce could be there too apparently, and I will NOT miss her if i can help it." She sounded so exasperated. Gosh, it was only a party, why was she fretting so much?

"It ain't the end of the world." Darren did a shrug even though Marissa couldn't see it over the voice call. He had finally given up trying to be the nice guy, especially to someone of Marissa's calibre. It just wasn't in his genes and girls like Marissa were supposed to know that.

"Argggghhhhh! I can't believe this! Ditching a sexy girl like me for your old grandma??? You sicken me!" She hung up before doing a sort of roar thing that sounded like a woman in labour, totally didn't suit her. Darren shrugged again and put down his phone. He sighed and stood up, facing his huge closet, trying to decide what to wear tonight. It was meant to be a sort of formal thing, but he never was the person for tuxedos or any of that nonsense, it all kinda killed his swag. But then, he was Darren Smith; he spilled swag everywhere he went, whatever he wore, and he could definitely pull off formal. He spotted something on the back of his wardrobe and decided this look would definitely pull it off!

Darren wasn't the only one struggling with how to appeal. Although she had found the dress and shoes, Nicole couldn't decide on what style to do on her hair. She had tried out a few club-ish looks but couldn't pull most of them off because of her long hair. 1980s were definitely out of the question since the theme of the night was 21st century. Out of desperation, she decided to call Alyssa, she always rocked great hairstyles, she could lend her and idea or two. As she grabbed her phone, it started ringing. It was Pat, the expert when it actually came to doing hair herself and having contacts with big hairdressers.

"Gorgeous, you've got your hair appointment with Santie at 4, do NOT be late or else i swear I will slice you piece by piece and feed you to the dogs! You have no idea how much grovelling I had to do for you to get this!" Pat said in her patronising voice. Nicole couldn't help letting out a sigh of relief and merriment. What had she done to deserve such great friends?!

"Thank you, Pat! It's like you read my mind 'cause I was just about to call Alyssa for help..." she bit her tongue at the end, realising she had thought of the less efficient person instead of Pat. 

"Whatever, get going, I'm serious. Santie will kill me if you miss it! And I will kill you first!" Pat emphaisied her point in a semi-threatening voice.

"Wait, THE Santie? Santie Monez??? Aw, you're a star, Pat! I best get going then! Thank you so much, mwaah!" She hung up quickly, did a little dance probably borrowed from those many years of watching Winnie the Pooh everyday like her life depended on it. 

She looked in the mirror and saw her reflection. Someone going to Santie for a hair do wouldn't wear jeans and a T-shirt! She decided to go for the new elastic pencil skirt in purple which she had bought with the girls, and a lilac frill see-through top with a cute broche to cover the low V-neck that threatened to spill her bosom out anytime. She would look glamourous and more like a regular customer than some charity-case who had never had a proper hair-do since she can remember. After looking through her new collection of shoes, she decided against the 2-inch heels as they made her look like a 30-year-old lawyer instead of a posh young lady recently out of her teens and settled for the black wedges with flowery straps on that Alyssa had urged her to get. Perfect.