I took my time getting ready. Morning upon morning of wearing the same pencil skirt, the same dress pants, and the same long-sleeved, boring tops and cardigans to work, I really wanted to play myself up. I didn’t know much about fashion, but I didn’t know that a shorter hem and lower neck made all the difference in making a woman feel sexy. I slipped into the tightest black dress that I could find in the back of my closet - a dress that I wore once to a family member’s wedding years ago and had never looked at again. It had a plunging neckline, a form-fitting body, and a cut-out in the back that was outlined with thick lace.

There was only so much of a comfort zone that I could jump out of at once, though, and I opted for wearing my most comfortable and worked in pair of beige heels, matched with the gold Chanel earrings and black Chanel purse that Mike had bought me for my birthday two years ago. My makeup was nothing out of the ordinary, but I did attempt to put on some fake eyelashes.

I only stabbed myself in the eye once, which had to be a world record. The glue felt strange on my eyelids and if I looked at myself in the mirror long enough and close enough, I could see the obvious difference between my natural lashes and the fake ones. I thought about taking them off, but then it would only make more of a disaster to fix the eyeliner beneath it.

“Hello! Sinny! Let’s go!” Mike’s voice rang through my apartment. “I got here late, so we better leave now before we hit the traffic on the ninety-one.”

I frowned at myself in the mirror, my sight fixating on the fake eyelashes, but scurried out of the room, regardless. The last thing I wanted was to sit in the car-ride with Mike while he shouted at the brake lights in front of him. His road-rage was the scariest thing I had ever witnessed.

“I spend most of my life on the road, and the last thing I want is to sit in the traffic during my time off from touring!” he would shout, banging his hand on the steering wheel, causing me to jump with every hit.

I entered the living room to fetch my phone from its place on the charger and my chapstick which was sitting on the dining room table right beside my macbook. As I walked around my apartment, I felt uncomfortable. Mike was staring at me, and not saying anything in the process.

I turned around and blushed. It wasn’t often that Mike saw me put an effort into my appearance like I had for the dinner we were getting ready for. I didn’t know what he thought of me when I wore revealing clothing or caked on eyelash glue. “What are you thinking?” I asked, pulling the chain of my purse to my arm and over my shoulder.

“Since when do you own stuff like that?” Mike said, waving up and down to motion toward my dress.

“Well, this is pretty much the only thing. Does it look bad? Am I trying too hard?” I caved into myself a bit, using my arms to try and shield the cleavage that I was flaunting.

Mike hummed for a moment and his eyes narrowed. “No, but it’s just weird seeing you wear something like that. It’s not you.” Mike continued to stare. “It looks good, though.”

I instantly relaxed. I knew that Mike would tell me if something didn’t look right. It was his duty as a best friend, and he didn’t take to those duties lightly. We hurried into Mike’s cadillac, my neighbors staring through their windows as Mike held the door open for me.

As Mike slipped into the driver’s seat, he mumbled something about how they were just jealous of his car. Mike was a materialistic man, and he did take pride in his belongings because he felt that they were a great reward for the hard work that Mike put into his career. Being on the road was not easy for him, especially when he had his family and closest friends waiting back at home for him. He was a very sentimental person when it came to those closest to him, and Mike used his money as a way to show his love for others. Hence why I was stepping into a cadillac with a Chanel purse and Chanel earrings. Although Mike took pride in the things he owned, he sometimes felt guilty when people stared. He wanted to be selfless, and when people judged him for the cars that he drove, or the expensive hats and watches that he bought, he felt like he wasn’t selfless enough.

We ended up hitting traffic on the ninety-one freeway, but only enough to make Mike curse under his breath, but no hitting the steering wheel. We were moving, but not enough to make a dent on our estimated arrival time that was displayed on the screen in the center of the dashboard. Another minute was tacked on, but luckily Mike was looking out the window at the cars that were zooming beneath the overpass we were slanted on. If he would have seen the minute added onto the time, he probably would’ve started the steering wheel bashing.

“So,” Mike said after a while of inching forward. “Did you invite Sammy to our dinner tonight?”

I turned my body to face him. “No, I told you last night that I didn’t even get his number.”

Mike nodded. “Do you have someone meeting us there or something?”

I stared at him for a moment, waiting to see if there was more to what he was trying to ask. “No… I’m pretty sure you would know if I had any love interest in my life.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a love interest. But I just thought maybe you’d want to bring a date around sometime.”

I turned in my seat so I was facing the windshield again and stared at the brake lights in front of us. I could see how they could be annoying. Flickering on and off when people who liked to impatiently tap their brakes and try to inch forward was in front of us. It did make me want to hit something.

“You know, you’ve been single for all the time that I've known you, and before it was no big deal, but now everybody is in a relationship and it kind of makes me worry about you. We’re not getting any younger,” Mike added.

“You’re starting to sound like my grandmother,” I joked. I snorted out a forced laugh, but Mike’s face was unmoving. I thought for sure he would laugh since he knew my grandmother and the way she was constantly pressuring me for grandbabies. “One from your sister isn’t enough! I want one from you. One with your thick brown hair. That’s from your father’s side of the family you know - my side of the family. Not that thin, blond hair shit.”

“I’m trying to be serious, Sindel. When I was single and we would go hang out together and pick people up at the bar, it was all fun and games, but now I’m getting worried about you. Is there something holding you back from settling down?” Mike’s tone was dead serious and it gave me a kind of annoyance that only could be evoked from Mike.

When Mike tried to get serious with me, he became extremely belittling and brought me down to a level of self esteem that was so negative, that I felt like a dog who had just shit in the house and was getting beat for it. “Could you not fucking chastise me right now?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

I felt stupid in my dress. I felt stupid with my fake eyelashes. I felt stupid for trying for once in my life.

Mike’s expression softened and he looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he kept his mouth shut. He could tell I was upset and he knew better than to get into an argument while we were trapped in a car on the overpass of a crowded freeway. I made poor decisions when I was angry with Mike, and if the argument got bad enough, I would get out of the car and start walking on the overpass in my heels and tight dress. I was certain that Mike was foreseeing into the future and making sure he didn’t say something to get me to that point.

The car was silent for only a minute before Mike’s classic ringtone began to play through his speakers, Vic’s name coming up on the screen of his dashboard.

“Hey bro, what’s up?” Mike answered through the bluetooth.

“Hey Mike, hey Sinny,” Vic greeted. “Where are you guys?”

Mike looked to me for a minute to see if I wanted to respond, but I turned toward the door and gazed out the window, which only gave me the view into the backseat of the car beside us, which was a young boy sitting with a puppy in his lap, petting him softly. The mother in the passenger seat was taking pictures of the boy and what I assumed to be their new puppy. Their happiness brought a smile to my face, even with how angry I was at Mike for trying to talk down on my love life.

“We’re stuck in the traffic on the ninety-one. We’ll still get there on time, but it’ll be pushing it,” Mike responded.

“Oh, that sucks. I think there was an accident where the overpass merges. I’m at Danielle’s house right now, and she isn’t looking too good. She’s been staring at her pet goldfish for the last three hours and singing the goldfish theme song from the commercial.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Mike asked.

“Well, for one, she doesn’t have a pet goldfish. And she thinks she ate some bad food last night, so she took some medicine, but when I looked at the pack it was expired. So I think she’s having some sort of reaction to it or something…”

Mike chuckled softly. “Sounds like she’s fucking stoned to me, man.” The car in front of us moved forward, and Mike eased up on the brakes so we could coast forward. The traffic began to move steadily and I lost sight of the boy with his puppy when we drove passed them. “You should probably take her to the doctor, though. Expired pills could take a toll on her. She’s tiny and it could really hurt her.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll wait for a little bit to see if the food she just ate helps to counteract the loopiness. But if not, I’ll have to take her in,” Vic sighed. “Either way, we’re probably not going to be making it to the dinner tonight.”

“It’s cool, bro. Keep me updated on Dani’s high,” Mike said with a chuckle. His mood was instantly lightened because of the way the traffic was moving. “Later.”

“Alright, see ya. Drive safe, love you guys.”

“Love you, too,” Mike said. His finger hovered over the red button on the screen. He nodded in my direction, telling me to reply.

“Love you, too, Vic,” I said through a sigh. Vic chuckled slightly before Mike ended the call, his hand thumping back to his side as his left hand held the top of the steering wheel.

“Don’t be grumpy,” Mike groaned. “Sorry I said anything.”

“Don’t give me a fake apology. It’s only going to piss me off more.”

“God, you’re never fucking happy,” he grumbled as he focussed on the road ahead of him. Sure enough, there had been an accident, but it was cleared up and once we passed the scene of the incident, it was smooth sailing from there.

We arrived to the restaurant ten minutes before eight. We got there before Alysha and were able to snag the best table in the entire place. It was round and large, enough to accompany the large group we were expecting and close to the bar, so that meant that our drinks would be delivered in a timely manner.

I took a seat, not bothering to wait for Mike to pull the chair out for me like he usually insisted. I was still too angry at him for the way he had brought up such a sensitive topic in such a hasty way. Mike sat down across the table, placing his blazer over the back of the chair beside him to save it for Alysha.

“Jaime just texted me and said that they can’t make it. They just got back from visiting family in Mexico and are too tired,” Mike said after he got settled into his seat. “Have you heard anything from Jolee?”

“Nope,” I said, popping the p. A waiter walked by and I quickly stopped him by touching his arm lightly. “Excuse me, can you get me a sex on the beach, please? Thank you.”

Mike shook his head from across the table.

“Why are you shaking your head at me?” I snapped. “What, I can’t order a drink?”

“Jesus, calm down,” Mike groaned. “Can you just fucking drop the attitude for tonight… Please?”

I turned around, my eyes rolling as I stared off toward the bar, eyeballing my drink as it was being poured. I needed that drink and fast if I was going to have to act like a civil being. I noticed that I was nicely dressed for the expectations of the restaurant. It was grand - decorated with gold and white and dim lighting to add to the sophisticated vibe. The other parties in the surrounding area were dressed in extravagant dresses with expensive jewelry and I felt as if I fit in. My fake eyelashes didn’t feel so heavy on my eyelids anymore.

My drink was placed in front of me just as my phone dinged from inside my purse that was resting on the seat beside me. “It’s Jolee,” I said after swallowing my first taste. “She says that her and Tony got into another fight and they turned around to go home.”

“They’ve been fighting a lot lately,” Mike said as he swiped through his phone. “Has she said anything to you about it? Tony doesn’t like to talk about things like that.”

“No, she hasn’t said anything about it. I’m sure I’ll get it out of her soon, though. She’s the only person who actually takes advantage of my degree in psychology,” I said with a slight laugh as I used my tongue to find the straw in my drink.

I found the straw and looked up when I heard the front door to the restaurant being opened. In walked Alysha, the blond-bombshell that could make a goddess feel like a peasant. She wore a tight, white pencil skirt that was high-waisted with a black top that wrapped around her neck like a halter top, but left a large key-hole opening on her chest, revealing her cleavage. Her skirt had two triangle cut-outs on the hips, letting her tanned skin peek through. If I tired to wear a skirt with cut-outs like that, it would just look like rolls of dough sticking through a pillsbury can of crescents after popping the label open. She wore the largest, chunkiest black heels that I had ever seen. Heels that I wouldn’t even know how to buckle onto my feet even if I had a ‘For-Dummies’ guide in front of me.

Mike instantly sat up, his right hand reaching out to take her hand and help her toward table. He let her walk a short distance from him, his hand holding hers in the air as if he was showing off his prized possession - and that’s exactly what he was doing. Men in the surrounding area turned their heads in awe of the beauty, while women looked in envy of her perfect body and sense of fashion. Her makeup was perfection, a thick contour line on each cheek shaped her face, her eyes were glittery and her eyelashes were so long, that I couldn’t tell if they were fake or not. Her hair was curled tightly to her head in a twenties style up-do. Her earrings were diamond, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Mike had bought those for her.

Alysha walked around the table to give me a hug, a slight squeal escaping from her lips as she pulled me in. “It’s so good to see you,” she said as she hugged me. “It sucks living so far from you guys because then I don’t get to see you as often as I would like.”

She pulled back from the hug and I smiled widely. “I know, but I’m glad I get to see you as often as I do instead of not at all.”

“Very true,” she said with a grin. “You look stunning, Sindel. I love your dress and your makeup.”

She turned back to walk over to her seat, her hips swaying as she approached Mike.

“Thank you,” I said softly after her. I went to sit back down, and as I blinked, I could feel the adhesive of my left eyelash loosen and the inner corner come unglued.

The dinner was incredibly boring for me. Mike and Alysha moved closer to my spot at the table since we had such a large table and only three of us there to fill the seats. After my second drink I began to contemplate the idea of standing up and walking the perimeter of the table, using the chairs as my stepping stones.

Mike’s hand was on Alysha’s thigh the entire night, and when she wasn’t talking with her hands, she had her right hand resting on top of it, squeezing his hand slightly and sometimes pushing it up further and then she would turn to him to give him some sort of look that I couldn’t see from where I was sitting.

Alysha would start a story off, and I would get interested, but as soon as she mentioned somebody, Mike would chime in and the two were suddenly telling the story to each other like I didn’t exist.

“The other night I was at a gala for my girlfriend, Jody-”

“Jody? Is she the one who likes to paint the aliens?”

“No, that’s Alice. Jody is the one who sculpts the flowers in gray clay.”

“Oh, right, because she doesn't like to paint them once they’re finished.”

“Yeah, because they...”

“...tarnish their raw glory!” They would say together. Then they’d laugh and gaze into each other’s eyes as they seemed to share some sort of romantic moment over the gray clay.

I ordered my third drink and that’s when I noticed how Alysha did this squinty thing with her eyes when she said something she thought was silly or made her uncomfortable admitting, and she always ended the phrase with a question as if to lessen the blow of her truths.

“What’s it like being a model, Alysha? Looking deeper than what’s on the surface of your good looks, do you ever feel emotionally beat down? How do you look at yourself when you see the images back after your photo shoot?” (Apparently after my third drink, my therapist liked to show. )

“Well, I mean, I like how I look. It sounds conceited, right?” Alysha turned to Mike and squinted her eyes and smiled, her tongue between her teeth just slightly as she smiled.

Later on, I asked her how she felt comfortable wearing such high heels and she said, “It’s all in the job, right?” And then she turned to look at Mike and gave him the squinty-tongue face.

And then, just to test it, I asked her if she was wearing a bra with her shirt since it looked like something you couldn’t really wear a bra with. And she said, “Well, because of my job, I’m used to going braless. I have to live up to the hype of my photos, don’t I?” Then she turned to Mike. And did the face.

At the end of the night, I was smashed. Six drinks. I had six drinks and only halfway through my fourth did I start reciting the parts of the brain and their functions. That was usually sixth-drink material, but something about Alysha made me pull out my bag of tricks too early. I knew that I was the reason Mike said no to dessert when the waiter asked us. Mike knew that drink four was usually when I would stop myself. Drink four was drunk-hook-up level. Drink five was the lovey phase, drink six was the show-off phase, and then drink seven was when I started to place bets on a karaoke challenge and would scream for somebody to pull out the emergency karaoke machine, and when it wasn’t delivered, I went acapella and started to belt out the lyrics to ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Whitney Houston.

Tonight I was ahead of schedule, though. I skipped the lovey phase and went straight for show-off. It was only on rare occasions that I felt it was necessary to prove myself early on in the night. At the rate I was going, Whitney Houston was parking her car and making her way up to the stage before the opening act had finished.

“Stay in the car,” Mike ordered, shutting the door. He locked me into the car just as I tried to push open the door. He walked toward Alysha’s vehicle, his hands immediately gripping onto her hips as she smiled and leaned back, her body bending to the shape of her car door. Mike leaned against her, their faces mushing together.

I don’t know why I stared at them. It was such an interesting thing, watching two people kiss. Their eyes closed, their double chins evident as they pushed their faces together. Kissing was actually quite unattractive. I turned away when I figured out that they weren’t stopping anytime soon and pulled out my phone. I had another text from Jolee that I had missed a few hours prior. It was an angry emoji with the steam coming out of the ears. Another fight with Tony, I presumed.

I decided to type out a message for her that would make her feel better.

AAAAANNDD IIIIIIIIII-E-IIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYYSS LUUUUUUUUVVVV YEWWWWWOOOOOOO

I hit send and chuckled at myself, proud of the way that I had used vowels to my advantage in order to really make the lyrics readable in the way that they were meant to be heard. She would know exactly what that text meant.

Mike came back to the car and got in, his face changing as soon as he saw me turning the car temperature from hot to cold over and over again.

“Can you stop?” Mike pushed my hand away and adjusted the temperature to a happy-medium. “You’re going to break the knob.”

“You’re a knob,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

Mike jumped onto the freeway, his foot pushing down on the gas so hard that I felt like we were in the next Fast and Furious movie. Mike was angry and he wanted to get home.

“I don’t understand why you had to act like a child tonight. Why did you get so drunk? We were supposed to be having a sophisticated, fun evening out. But then you had to go and start asking Alysha all those personal questions and make her feel uncomfortable. And then you fucking start talking about the prefrontal cortex - nobody gives a shit about the prefrontal cortex, Sindel! Why did you do that?”

Mike turned to me, expecting me to respond but I just stared out the windshield, my face blank.

“Huh? Answer me,” he insisted. Uh-oh, Mike was at disapproving-daddy level of anger.

I turned to look at him, waiting for him to look at me before I gave him my response. My face was completely blank, and dragging down. But when he looked at me to wait for my response, I squinted my eyes and bit my tongue through my smile and then looked away.

Mike continued to ramble on about how badly I had embarrassed him and how I needed to grow up and try dating so I could understand how he was feeling. His words didn’t make much sense to me because I was too busy trying to remember what the next line of lyrics in the Whitney Houston song were.

I woke up to the sound of the car beeping. The driver’s seat was empty, but my door was open. Mike wrapped his arms around me and lifted me out of the passenger’s seat. He carried me up the steps of my apartment building, and I used the rhythm of his footsteps to keep in beat as I hummed along to the Whitney Houston song playing in my head, except I still couldn’t remember the next line.

Mike set me down into my bed and pulled my heels off of my feet. “Take your earrings off, Sinny,” Mike cooed. He guided my hands up to my ears so that I could understand what he was saying.

I removed the earrings and let them drop to the pillow. Mike reached down and fished them from off the bed and set them onto my nightstand. I curled into the large stuffed dolphin that I used as a body pillow and let out a content hum as I felt secure and comfortable. There was a pulling at my eyelids for a moment and I reached my hand up to rub it away.

“I know, hold on,” Mike said. The tension was relieved after a second.

“Goodnight.” Mike pressed his lips to my forehead. “I love you, you knob.”

Notes

Sindel's Outfit

I wrote this chapter quite a while ago while my friend Jolee watched, and we seriously were cracking up SOOO hard at it. This was so much fun to write and I still can laugh at it when I go back and re-read it. I hope you guys got a few laughs out of it. This is the chapter that really shaped the kind of person I found myself turning Sindel into for the rest of the story.

Let me know what you guys thought about this! I would love to hear your feedback and predictions! Love you all, thank you for reading! :) <3