For The Plot

Ref Do Something

I wake up from a nap feeling dazed, like I just slept through a commercial break and forgot what show I was watching.
For a second, I forget I even have a date.
Then I see the garment bag hanging on my closet door and everything comes rushing back.

Oh right. Sergio. The dress. The spa day. The fact that my life just became a telenovela overnight.

Stomach flipping like it's auditioning for a cheer squad.

Shower. Cleanser. Lotion.

Then I take my hair out of the bonnet and start finger-brushing through my bombshell curls so they can drop just the way Shay's did them earlier today. Mid-back, shiny, fluffy, Dominican-approved.

I'm still in my soft beat beginner era, so I keep it cute: a little mascara, brow gel, and a crisp brown lip liner with a bold red lipstick that says, "I'm not scared, I'm just curious."

When I walk into the kitchen, my mom's already up from her nap. She's in her lavender pajama set that says "Caffeine Queen" in gold cursive, fuzzy hot pink slippers squeaking, bonnet hanging off one ear like it clocked out early. Eyelashes still sky-high.

She stops, does a slow circle around me like I'm on America's Next Top Daughter.
"You look like money, baby! Hold still—lemme take a pic for Friendbook."

"Mom, no," I groan. "I'm 23. Can you not post me to your ten friends again?"

"Too late! Already up." She cackles, typing like she's running my PR. "Caption: My baby's first sugar daddy date!"

I scream, laugh, and speed-walk out the room before she tags me in something ridiculous.

I send a mirror pic of me in the full outfit to Aaliyah and Megan. The group chat lights up immediately.

Aaliyah: Mariah. You look like you just walked off a yacht.
Megan: James could NEVER 😭😭😭 YOU LOOK TOO GOOD. Facetime me now!!!

Megan FaceTimes me on beat, wrapped in a silk scarf with her lashes fanned out like she's on a BET+ reality show.
She gasps before I can even sit down.

"Mariah. The DRESS. The SHOES. You look like a billionaire's revenge plot. Sergio's really not playing!"

I plop on my bed, still in the dress. "Girl. I don't even know what's happening anymore. I literally woke up from a nap, saw this garment bag, and started spiraling—in a good way."

Aaliyah joins the FaceTime from her room too, chill in a hoodie and bun, arms crossed like somebody's lawyer.
She squints at me through the screen.

"All of this for a man you met last night at work?"

I nod. "He didn't even buy anything. Just asked for my number and dipped. But the way he looked at me, I knew it wasn't random."

Megan grins like she's watching her favorite drama unfold in real time. "Ate that. Honestly, I'm happy for you. You've been bored for too long. You needed some plot."

Aaliyah exhales slowly, her eyes narrowing. "I get it, Mariah. But... be careful. This guy's moves are fast. That kind of attention can come with strings. I don't want to see you hurt."

"I know," I say, smiling to soften her worry. "Mom's excited too. She literally posted me to Friendbook like it's my wedding day. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm about to move into a penthouse tomorrow."

Aaliyah shakes her head, already logging off. "Just text us when you get there. I want to know you made it alive."

She leaves the call and Megan immediately rolls her eyes.
"What's her problem? Girl, if a man sent me designer heels and called me il mio fiore, I'd already be practicing my signature for when he adds me to the will."