She's With the Band

Kaleidoscope

Saturday was hasty in its advance, catching Valerie by surprise. That afternoon, she stood starring at Dana's closet for hours, trying to will an unconventional yet professional business dinner outfit into existence. Admittedly, she was alien to the dress code of her potential employers.

"We just want to interview you," Gale had casually said, and if Valerie were to take his word as it was, she would have showed up at the restaurant in jeans and a hoodie, especially since they were among the few items she packed a month ago. But try as she may, Valerie couldn't shake the simple fact that it was still a "job interview" which required some degree of professionalism.

She browsed through the wardrobe, skipping past Dana's office attire—which mainly consisted of various dark pencil skirts and blouses of solid colours and patterns. The collection was far too minimalist for Valerie's taste, despite being a simple woman herself. The dress code equation was difficult to balance: should she choose an outfit suitable for a regular day-job interview, or should it follow the conventional business dinner dress code?

The clock ticked while Valerie tried one outfit after the other, her disappointment increasing by the second. With hangers flying across the bed and most of the closet's contents on the floor, Valerie was starting to lose hope. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an indigo colour flirting with the lamp light as it fell directly upon it. She rapidly drew the hanger away from the far end of the closet and inspected the indigo dress at length.

Valerie felt the silky material slip through her fingers, giving a lustrous shine to the dress's rich colour against her golden skin. The neck-line seemed modest, which she appreciated in the icy November weather; it would allow her to wear a warm undershirt, discreetly.

Fearing the passing time, or perhaps her own changing mind, Valerie stripped off her worn pyjamas in a whim and changed into the dress. She twirled around, feeling like the little girl she wished to be with all her heart. She looked at the mirror in amazement, appreciating the length of the dress as it fell just below her knees. It draped over her shoulder in a seemingly Romanesque way, hiding the broadness of her shoulders that she often felt self-conscious about while growing up. Her hands slid over the smooth satin material with ease and held her waist in a model-like stance. The dress screamed its own approval at Valerie's reflection in the mirror, and her expressions seconded that notion.

*****

The Chapter One Restaurant was in the heart of downtown Dublin, where 'bustling night life' seemed like an understatement. At eight in the evening, the streets were packed as if it were noon and the whole population decided to take a stroll through the nation's capital.

The taxi driver stopped the meter and fixated his ogling eyes on the pretty woman seated in the backseat. He spoke in a heavy northern accent, "da'ill be ten euro, m'am."

Valerie got out of the taxi and reached inside her coat pocket for the cash she hastily stashed before leaving the flat. She shivered as she handed the man his money; perhaps, she thought, it had been the night air as it blew open the neatly folded flaps of the coat off her side, but she couldn't ignore the mental belch from the man's crude stare.

"Evening, ma'am," a receptionist, looking no older than eighteen, greeted her with a chirpy voice, "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes, it's under... Ah," Valerie began hesitantly, her nerves seemingly burning her tongue to a charred crisp, "Gale Powell." The receptionist looked up, a fleeting glimpse of recognition danced across the features of her face.

"If you'll follow me, please," she said with a visibly excited face. Valerie followed in silence, completely aware of the unconventional situation she was in, and mentally excused the girl for her excitement. They made their way towards the end of the restaurant to a less boisterous location that was, more or less, reserved for important clients.