hair on your legs.” Massie slammed her Secret deodorant down on the makeup vanity. “I can see it from here.” She marched across the bedroom toward the closet.
Alicia giggled. “Me too!” she called from the tub.
Claire brushed her hand along her calf. There was definitely hair there, but her mother always said it was blond and that no one could see it. “How bad is it? Out of ten. Ten being ‘early man.’”
“Six.” Massie hooked the back seam on her pants, liberating them from her butt crack.
Claire snickered. It didn’t surprise her that Massie had bought the same super-straight velvet pants Abby had worn on
The Daily Grind
. But she was shocked she’d chosen to debut them in seventy-six-degree weather.
“Step aside.” Massie waved Claire off like a stinky fart, then tilted the floor-length mirror. “Now look. Still think you grew?”
“Oh,” Claire said to her five-foot-three frame. “That’s more like it.”
“Clothes stores and five-star hotels use fun-house mirrors to trick stupid people into thinking they’re suddenly tall and thin. You know, so they’ll spend more money.” She twisted her charm bracelet.
Claire’s cheeks burned. “So you think I’m
stupid
?”
Massie triple-tapped her on the head and walked away.
“Did anyone happen to notice the ah-mazing products in the bathroom? It’s better than Bendel’s in there.” Alicia emerged, towel-drying her thick dark hair, her boobs jiggling inside the waffled cotton Le Baccarat robe.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Massie snapped. “Emma is picking us up at eleven thirty.”
“I have fifteen minutes.” Alicia tossed her wet towel on the bed.
“This goes in the hamper.” Massie slid a pink-satin-covered hanger under the wet towel and flipped it onto the floor.
Alicia picked the egg off the duvet and pressed radio. An old Kanye West song blasted through the speakers.
Claire danced her way into the bathroom, finally able to pee now that Alicia was gone. Red petals that had once dusted the floor were now wet and stuck to the marble thanks to Alicia’s watery footprints. The deep tub gurgled as the bubbles drained out, and the doors of the shower were covered in steam. Above the two clear sinks was a long, mirrored cabinet. Claire slid it open and was over-whelmed by the heady aroma of plant extracts. The top shelf was filled with Bumble & Bumble hair products; the second with lotions and creams from Clarins, Kiehl’s, and Philosophy; the third with miniature perfume samples and tiny bottles of Essie nail polish; and the fourth with Aveda soaps and oils.
“Ready!” Alicia shouted.
Claire grabbed a small green bar of soap, shoved it in her back pocket, and clicked off the light.
Alicia was twisting her hair into a chignon when Claire stepped out of the bathroom. Her I HEART NY tank top was cinched with a silver braided belt and covered with a shrunken white blazer. A black peasant skirt and metallic ballet slippers gave her a city-meets-country look that Rupert would probably love.
Then there was Massie. Usually she’d be classified as “actress beautiful,” but her new long hair elevated her status to “model beautiful.” She was wearing an ivory silk halter, a tangle of charm necklaces, and Abby’s black velvet pants.
Next to Massie and Alicia, Claire felt like a sloppy first grader, more
Sesame Street
than sexy. Cam was the only one who liked her super short bangs, and it had been days since she’d seen him.
“Let’s go!” Massie dabbed her wrists with Chanel No. 5, grabbed the key card, and marched out of the room. Alicia hooked a red hobo bag over her shoulder and followed. Claire slipped on her Hadley-approved Keds, snapped off a chunk of cookie, shoved it in her mouth, and closed the door behind her.
The elevator ride from the twenty-fifth floor to the lobby gave Claire enough time to hate her hair, detest her bloody cuticles, and abhor the dusting of hair on her thighs. What had made her
Alicia giggled. “Me too!” she called from the tub.
Claire brushed her hand along her calf. There was definitely hair there, but her mother always said it was blond and that no one could see it. “How bad is it? Out of ten. Ten being ‘early man.’”
“Six.” Massie hooked the back seam on her pants, liberating them from her butt crack.
Claire snickered. It didn’t surprise her that Massie had bought the same super-straight velvet pants Abby had worn on
The Daily Grind
. But she was shocked she’d chosen to debut them in seventy-six-degree weather.
“Step aside.” Massie waved Claire off like a stinky fart, then tilted the floor-length mirror. “Now look. Still think you grew?”
“Oh,” Claire said to her five-foot-three frame. “That’s more like it.”
“Clothes stores and five-star hotels use fun-house mirrors to trick stupid people into thinking they’re suddenly tall and thin. You know, so they’ll spend more money.” She twisted her charm bracelet.
Claire’s cheeks burned. “So you think I’m
stupid
?”
Massie triple-tapped her on the head and walked away.
“Did anyone happen to notice the ah-mazing products in the bathroom? It’s better than Bendel’s in there.” Alicia emerged, towel-drying her thick dark hair, her boobs jiggling inside the waffled cotton Le Baccarat robe.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Massie snapped. “Emma is picking us up at eleven thirty.”
“I have fifteen minutes.” Alicia tossed her wet towel on the bed.
“This goes in the hamper.” Massie slid a pink-satin-covered hanger under the wet towel and flipped it onto the floor.
Alicia picked the egg off the duvet and pressed radio. An old Kanye West song blasted through the speakers.
Claire danced her way into the bathroom, finally able to pee now that Alicia was gone. Red petals that had once dusted the floor were now wet and stuck to the marble thanks to Alicia’s watery footprints. The deep tub gurgled as the bubbles drained out, and the doors of the shower were covered in steam. Above the two clear sinks was a long, mirrored cabinet. Claire slid it open and was over-whelmed by the heady aroma of plant extracts. The top shelf was filled with Bumble & Bumble hair products; the second with lotions and creams from Clarins, Kiehl’s, and Philosophy; the third with miniature perfume samples and tiny bottles of Essie nail polish; and the fourth with Aveda soaps and oils.
“Ready!” Alicia shouted.
Claire grabbed a small green bar of soap, shoved it in her back pocket, and clicked off the light.
Alicia was twisting her hair into a chignon when Claire stepped out of the bathroom. Her I HEART NY tank top was cinched with a silver braided belt and covered with a shrunken white blazer. A black peasant skirt and metallic ballet slippers gave her a city-meets-country look that Rupert would probably love.
Then there was Massie. Usually she’d be classified as “actress beautiful,” but her new long hair elevated her status to “model beautiful.” She was wearing an ivory silk halter, a tangle of charm necklaces, and Abby’s black velvet pants.
Next to Massie and Alicia, Claire felt like a sloppy first grader, more
Sesame Street
than sexy. Cam was the only one who liked her super short bangs, and it had been days since she’d seen him.
“Let’s go!” Massie dabbed her wrists with Chanel No. 5, grabbed the key card, and marched out of the room. Alicia hooked a red hobo bag over her shoulder and followed. Claire slipped on her Hadley-approved Keds, snapped off a chunk of cookie, shoved it in her mouth, and closed the door behind her.
The elevator ride from the twenty-fifth floor to the lobby gave Claire enough time to hate her hair, detest her bloody cuticles, and abhor the dusting of hair on her thighs. What had made her
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