Allison
I haven't got any time to ponder about Adam Payne's bastard brother who never looked as so much like him, given the angelic face.
Mische had been waiting for me inside her red Porsche convertible, with her Gucci sunglasses covering most of her face. I took a seat in her car and buckled my seatbelt. She hadn't said a word, no enlightenment about today's itinerary but Mische was Mische. She was this hot goddess party-goer with long tanned legs and dyed blonde hair on the outside but she was this sweet and sensitive chic inside. Seth was her first love and nobody ever beats that feeling so yeah, she was pretty devastated.
We drove around Johnson City first, passing by coffeshops and bookstores. There weren't a lot of people ouside. It was forty degrees outside that the road looked like a twisted straight line from my eyes.
Tired from Mische's constant sighing and exhaling, I turned the car stereo on. Jessie J's Domino was playing. I bobbed my head slightly up and down, feeling better now that I had gotten out of my French class which was a four-hour class from nine until twelve. Before, I signed up for this class which was required for me to finish my course, I was ecstatic. I've always dreamed about living in Paris, France, looking at the Eiffel Tower with my French husband with wine in our hands.
Sorry, I just have some fetish with French guys. French are supposedly the most romantic folks in the world right, but the language was kind of difficult. No offense meant; I still love France.
"Do you want to stop by McDonalds or whatever for lunch?" she asked, her eyes set straight to the road ahead of us.
"Sure." I said. "I can settle with the drive thru."
After loads of greasy fries, burgers and coke, Mische took me to the mall weaving in and out of the crowd silently. I followed her mutely, keeping a safe distance just in case all hells break loose, (Mische, sometimes has anger management issues) sipping on my coke. She walked inside Ansophrie, her favorite clothing line which mostly sells Paris fashion-based clothes but has wide range of designs customers can choose from.
I sighed, tossing my empty drink on the nearest rubbish bin before entering inside. Ansophrie never failed to make my jaw drop. Walking inside it was pretty much walking on a sea of clothes and dresses. A plain shirt costs $50,000 which I think was ridiculously overly priced but this is Ansophrie and it had made itself popular amongst other fashion brands like Dolce and Gabbana and Chanel.
Mische used to tell me how she wanted to Ansophrie to be her walk-in closet.
Smiling at the thought, I went right behind her and idly watched her touch every dress meticulously. I remember how I hate it when she shops back then because she would weigh every dress like a piece of expensive meat - touch the fabrics, study the design, make sure nobody else would be wearing the same and then put it back on the hanger simply because it was too wrong under her scrutiny.
I dare not touch anything. The cheapest thing I had ever seen was a $35,000 plain bra and the rest goes as high as $200,000. What I don't understand was why would women spent a thousand bucks for clothes she could have bought on a different store on a much lesser price? I mean, it's okay to splurge on something you like but splurging is totally different from wasting dollars.
"I got you this." she said, bringing out of my daze. We came to a halt as she picked out a black leather pants (which reminded me a lot of cat woman) from the metal rack. Didn't she used to wear something like that? "And this." she added, holding up a floral midriff-baring tank top that looked more like a corset except that it has thin straps for the arms. I bet it would make me look like a sexy little devil minus the pitch fork and the horn.
She walked me into one of the fitting rooms and placed the clothes on my arms.
"Try them." she said. "If they're uncomfortable, I'm sure we can find something comfortable."
I nodded as she closed the door, dividing us temporarily. I turned around, facing the whole-body mirror at once. It showed a skinny white girl with silvery blonde hair and blue eyes, looking nervous as she stood in front. I sighed, stepping out of my jeans and tee shirt changing into the little bundle that I held. I should get it over with, I thought squeezing on the pants that were a bit uncomfortable yet but looked really good in snuggling my legs. The floral top, was the best match for it. I don't want any more shopping.
A tap tap sound made me jumped, my fist automatically landing in my chest.
"Ally?" Mische's familiar voice rang through my ears. "Can you stay for a bit? I'm going back to the car. I think I got the exact shoes to match your get up."
"Sure." I said shortly, not having enough energy to argue with anyone today.
I thought about the beige Christian Loubutin three-inch pumps that she had too nicely asked me to wear on Adam Payne's house party. It made me stumble and it irked me to wear something like that, even if it cost a thousand bucks but fashion was something that comforts Mische. Whenever she was sad, I would always be at the receiving end of his fashion emergency make-over. I turned and looked back on the mirror. Wish she'd hurry up.
Tapping my foot impatiently, I decided to check my phone. There was no message. Not that I was expecting to hear from Adam. He's got too much on his plate right now - soccer practice, National League, his bastard (READ: And sizzling hot) brother that actually looked better than him. No offense meant. Adam was handsome. There's no denying that. He looked like a bad ass motherfucker kind of guy. Nate, however, has a pleasant smiling face that makes you want to smile too.
Tap. Tap.
"Ally?" Mische called out. "I got the perfect shoes. Mind if you open up?"
"Okay." I answered, opening the door that divided us. Mische's mouth hang ajar. Embarrassed, she put a hand over it.
"You look great on those." she exclaimed, looking awed. Well, it's not everyday that she gets to see me looking like a class A hooker. He handed me a black two-inch stiletto. "I think this'll complete the look. Try them on."
I obliged, putting the pair in each foot. Compared to her beige Christian Louboutin pumps, this one's way too comfortable for me to wear. I turned to face the mirror. I must admit that I looked really nice. Maybe even nicer than nice. Whatever.
Mische and I went back to Queensland, carrying our purchases. I was beginning to understand how shopping can provide comfort to broken hearted women. It was like anticipating for the next fashion make-over so the ex-boyfriend would pee in his pants the moment he'd see her again.
I took sometime in the bathroom while Mische used my laptop to stalk over Seth and Bonnie's individual Facebook accounts. I have seen those; I've realized and there weren't much on them. Portland is not a big fan of Facebook. It's a necessity to be able to talk to our long-distance friends and that's that.
Eventually, I had to wear the goddamn floral corset top and leather black pants again. Mische fussed over my face, putting some eyeliner and heavy false eyelashes that was so uncomfortable, I don't even have the clearest notion why women spend a lot of dollars for it.
She even did some complicated French knots in my hair and forced me to wear contacts. God, I hate this day.
"Now, the party's going to be in Retaliation." she said, lowering down before me to fasten the ankle straps of the shoes. It was on the seventeeth avenue and it's not so hard to miss. Its new and its Bonnie Constantine's party so there would be loads of
people. Just be careful not to bump into Carly."
I nodded, trusting myself to keep silent. Going into a party full of strangers was like being a sheep thrown into the lion's den. Bile gushed up to my throat, I almost felt like I was going to throw up but after a few swallows, my stomach settled back.
"You're going to use my mom's new car." she said, tucking her dyed blonde hair behind her ears. She thrusts a key into my hand. "She's not around so she's not going to mind and she's not going to know."
"I thought you're dropping me?" I asked, ignoring the lump that seemed to have settled itself on the base of my throat.
"Nobody can see me there, Ally. It can get really suspicious and we might not have the results we wanted. Bonnie has so many eyes and ears around. That's how they managed to keep her relationship with Seth, assuming that they were cheating on me." she sighed. I nodded stiffly. "But I got Nate waiting for you in there. I'll ring him up when you get in the car so you'll have nothing to worry about."
"Who's Nate?" I asked, getting more and more confused. I thought everything would be a simple task of going to a party to check if her boyfriend was cheating but it had obviously taken more than that - clothes, make-up, French knots, contact lenses and now, a guy.
"Um, Nathaniel Payne?" Even Mische sounded uncertain.
"Isn't he Adam-"
"Yes." she said, suddenly looking apologetic. "Look, I'm sorry about this but I can't just throw you inside a bar to get mobbed by Bonnie's fans-"
"Wait." I said, waving a dismissive hand before her. "How did you know Nate?"
"I met him a few times in different parties last summer when I staying in New Jersey. We stayed in touch after that." she said. When I didn't say anything, she prompted herself to continue. "He's a really nice guy, nicer than his brother anyway. But he doesn't know the plan. I didn't trust another soul to do what you have to do. He's just going to be more like, your date."
"Date?!" I blurted unexpectedly. "How could he even know if it's me?"
"Silvery blonde hair's not that hard to recognize."