Accidental Makeovers Read online

  “Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow. Seven, right?”

  “Yep, see you then. Bye, little guy.”

  Mick waved goodbye and fidgeted in my arms.

  Putting yesterday’s events out of my mind, I park the car and prepare myself for another day at the new job.

  I hate to admit it, but I dread facing Amy and Jennifer.

  Max

  “Fiddlesticks!”

  Rob is taking this nursery school cursing thing way too far, but I guess it’s the first time in his life that he’s come up with something funny.

  I like to joke around as much as the next guy, but my brother’s behavior is getting weird. If he goes to Sunday dinner at our parents’ house and uses the word ‘fiddlesticks,’ Pop will think he’s turned into a…never mind. Pop’s an asshole about most things.

  I shake my head as we unload our tools and gear from the van for this morning’s project. A family in Cassie and Jon’s neighborhood needs a new air conditioning system. I hope we don’t run into any problems and get stuck here late. Tonight is my date with Amber.

  “Rob, you big son of a biscuit, hand me that vacuum pump.”

  “Fuck you, Max.” He smiles and sticks out his tongue like Gene Simmons.

  “Thank God. I was beginning to think I’d lost my brother to the world of Nickelodeon and Sesame Street.”

  “Nah, I just like to see the expression on your face when I say that shit. But seriously, I am doing better with not cursing in front of Ruby. Diamond appreciates it.”

  “Good for you, man.”

  I slam the van door, and we begin bringing our gear around the side of the house.

  “So where are you taking Amber? Some place fancy?”

  “She wants to go to O’Malley’s. I’m meeting her there.”

  “Aren’t you worried Katie’s gonna be working?” He raises an eyebrow as we reach the front porch of the two story colonial farmhouse.

  “Yes and no. At first I freaked out. Just in my head—I didn’t let on to Amber that there was any problem. I did tell her my band plays there and I know people. She seemed to like that. But no, if Katie’s there she will tell Bianca. And honestly it can’t hurt for Birdie to know I’m on a date.”

  “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playin’, but I’m glad I’m out of the dating scene. For a while, at least.”

  I don’t have time to ask him what he means by ‘for a while.’ And he has the nerve to question my motives with women, like he’s not wasting a single mother’s time? Or maybe he’s covering up his real feelings, like a well-trained Buczkowski boy.

  What a mother fletcher.

  Bianca

  It’s weird in Jennifer’s office. There are no windows and it’s not decorated nicely. It looks like any backroom in a retail establishment. I glance behind me, as if there’s a secret door where she hides her real office, which I imagine has a bed with silk sheets, a bear rug and a fireplace. Hmm…maybe I’m describing my new house.

  I haven’t given much thought to a home for me and Mick, but it’s on my list. Surely someone would rent me an apartment, at least. I’ve just started this job, but I have an employment history.

  I don’t want to have to ask my mother to co-sign. And it would be insanely presumptuous to think that I’ll move in with Eric eventually. After the way he acted on the sidewalk yesterday, I’m not sure he could handle Mick…

  When I came in this morning, Jennifer said nothing about yesterday afternoon, which is fine by me. I don’t have any clients scheduled for makeovers today, so we talked about marketing strategies. I decided to be a little bold, and told her what Cin said about Facebook groups and social media advertising. It could help me bring in more clients to the salon, as well as help me with side business, but Jennifer doesn’t need to know about those plans.

  She jumped on that and said, “Perfect. That’s proactive thinking. I have an appointment, so why don’t you use my office to get started. If you could figure out how to drive traffic back to our website, that would help, too. I know you’re not skilled in this area, but you are the product we’re promoting so you need to be the one to directly interact on social media. How is your LinkedIn profile?”

  I told her it needed work. Of course I don’t have one.

  As she ran out of here in a whirlwind, I realized I have a lot of work to do on the business end of things. I am skilled in my art, but when it comes to business, I’m pretty ignorant.

  Maybe Mom can help me. She’s done a good job with her business. Or Violet. Of course, Eric is the obvious teacher, but sleeping with the boss is one thing. Sleeping with my teacher is just creepy.

  I can figure most of this out on my own. I also remember a couple of times watching Max working on his company’s website and Facebook page. Hmm…he knows about this stuff, too. I remember him yelling at Rob on several occasions to get active on social media. Rob just gave him the finger, or some equally asinine response.

  I open up the laptop Jennifer instructed me to use, and pull up Facebook. I do have a personal account, so I know how to navigate the site. It can’t be too hard to set up a professional page and start joining groups related to my field.

  I hope I can remember my password. I leave myself logged in on my computer at home, which is why every once in a while there is a post on my timeline that says something like—‘My boyfriend, Max, is the sexiest man alive.’

  I smile at the memories of his Facebook hacking, but shake them off just as quickly. Eric would never pull such publicly childish pranks.

  Actually, he still hasn’t acknowledged that we’re dating to anyone, as far as I know.

  I chastise myself for wasting time thinking about men, like a mindless flake. I have never been one to obsess over men’s behavior. Sometimes I sit with my girlfriends and wonder how they enjoy talking about guys all the time. There are much more interesting things in life to focus on.

  As I pull up Facebook, I see that Jennifer is automatically logged in to her account. I better make sure I sign out because the last thing I want is for her to think I was snooping, or worse yet—hacking her account to be funny.

  Hmm…here’s one of those Facebook ‘memory’ posts. I can’t help but see it because it’s right in front of my face. I don’t even need to scroll down.

  It’s a picture of a bunch of chic people at a party. It’s dated today’s date, two years ago. There is no mistaking Eric. I was expecting to discover him hanging all over Jennifer, because there definitely seems to be a vibe there. But no. His arm is around Raven. All the way around her, in a familiar way.

  I wonder why no one bothered to give me this tidbit of information. I don’t know if it really matters. Raven was about to get married, so clearly they couldn’t have been together recently. Or am I being naïve?

  To be fair to Raven, she didn’t have a lot of time to fill me in on details when we were under the table at her wedding. And obviously she had no idea that I would end up in bed with Eric before I even started the job. She thought I was in a relationship, and it isn’t like she and I are best friends.

  As much as I would like to sink into righteous indignation and cat-fighting jealousy, I can’t afford those luxuries. Everyone has a past, and I’m sure if we get seriously involved, Eric will tell me.

  I sign out of Jennifer’s account, and manage to get into my own. I congratulate myself for being so mature and professional, and move on to my work.

  Besides, if I see something really disturbing in her account, I won’t be able to unsee it. That goes for looking at anything else on Jennifer’s laptop. I will not look at any pictures, either.

  As I search around Facebook looking for the ‘create a page’ feature, I am struck by my own pictures.

  There are SO many of Mick, but almost as many of Max. We look happy in every one of them. I need to remember how pictures can lie, when I go searching through other people’s photos and jumping to conclusions.

  I should clean up my account and delete some of these,
but I’m not ready yet. Work needs to be my focus.

  And my baby.

  And cleaning bunny poop.

  My phone rings and since I’m alone, I pick it up.

  “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Nothing to worry about. The Fed Ex guy came, and there’s a package for you. From Eric Kimball.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I don’t make a habit of opening other people’s packages.”

  I roll my eyes and say, “Uh, huh. But you wouldn’t mind opening it for me, so I don’t have to wait until I get home to find out, right?”

  “I could do that. I hadn’t thought of it.”

  “Mom, you are dying to get into that package. Tell the truth.”

  “Of course I am. I don’t have any rich, suave men sending me anything. What do you think it is? It’s a big box.”

  Hoping it’s not sex toys or lingerie, I say, “Go ahead and open it. But quick, Mom. I have a lot to do at work.”

  I hear her rustling the package. She must have put the phone down because I hear footsteps. She probably went to the kitchen to get a box opener or scissors. Now I am dying from suspense, too.

  I can count on one hand and have five fingers left, the number of times Max has sent me a surprise gift for no occasion.

  “Wow.” Mom sighs into the phone and says, “Hmm…”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a black dress and shoes. Looks like expensive stuff. The shoes are silk and strappy, with rhinestones. Oh my God, their Louboutins. You know the shoes with the red soles? I only know about them from reading chick lit books.”

  “You read chick lit books?”

  “Well, I need an escape sometimes, and if I read erotica…well, that’s not a good—”

  “Mom, what does the dress look like?”

  “It’s a heavy taffeta. Poufy skirt, and a bodice cut up to the neck. Very elegant, though. It will show off your figure without seeing too much. Why did he send you all of this? Oh, I know. The ball.”

  “Mom, it’s not a ball. Just a party. I’m not Cinderella. Since when did you start thinking like a fairytale…? I know. The chick lit books. They always have happy endings.”

  “You know, a happy ending wouldn’t hurt either of us, Bianca. But I don’t know if I like the idea of him sending you clothes. It’s like he’s saying that he assumes you have nothing suitable to wear and he doesn’t want to be embarrassed.”

  “Well, I don’t have anything to wear. I was actually hoping to raid your closet, and if that didn’t work, panic was going to set in. It’s kind of thoughtful in a…”

  “Controlling way.” She pauses, and when I don’t respond right away, she says, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I just worry. I know you wanted Max to take care of you more than he did, but there is a price for that sometimes. Eric is a different type of man. I’m not saying that’s necessarily bad, but I don’t want you to fall into another…”

  “Dysfunctional mess? Neither do I. I admit, I’m a little weirded out by this. But maybe he’s just a ‘grand gesture’ kind of guy. I’ll thank him but tell him I’d rather he not give me such lavish gifts.”

  Mom and I continue to chat about other stuff, like what I’m doing at work and Mick’s morning drop off. I really need to get back to figuring out this social media stuff.

  “You get back to work now. I’ve taken enough of your time. I’ll put your ball gown in the attic with the mice. Once you do your chores, the fairy godmother will come with the pumpkin.”

  “Very funny. Goodbye, Mom.”

  I sarcastically exaggerate my words to make light of the situation, but really—what the hell is he doing? How does he even know my size? Clothing size I suppose he could guess. He could have even looked at my clothes while I was sleeping. But my shoe size? Hmm…they were also off my feet at the same time.

  But what kind of a man records the size of a woman as soon as he sleeps with her? I don’t know it that’s overly considerate?

  Or super creepy.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Bianca

  “AHHH….” I open the door just in time to catch a quick glimpse of Claire’s mother gliding across the kitchen floor like a figure skater, and then a loud crash. Then crying…now barking…where the hell is everyone?

  Claire comes running down the stairs as I recover from the shock, and join her on the way to the kitchen.

  “Mom, what happened?”

  Mrs. McDonald is laying on the floor, covered in something greasy. Is that oil? Ruby is also on the floor crying, and Aidan runs to Claire saying, “Damma boom!”

  He calls his grandmother ‘Damma.’

  I don’t see Mick, but then I spy him running around with the wiener dogs in the living room. Now that he sees me, he comes running into the kitchen, with the dogs behind him.

  “No, honey, let Mommy come to you.”

  I reach out my arms to stop him, while crouching down. I don’t expect to be knocked over by the crazy wiener dogs, but now I am sitting on my ass in oil, holding Mick in the air, and Dixie and Duncan are also sliding around like drunk figure skaters.

  “Mom, are you alright? What happened?”

  Claire tiptoes to her mother, obviously trying to avoid becoming another casualty of the oil slick. If she goes down, we could all be swimming around the wood floor until Brandon stops playing music, and hears the racket going on above him.

  “I was making pancakes, and I guess I left the oil on the edge of the counter. Mick was in the other room with the dogs, and I wanted to check on them. So I guess one of these other little darlings thought it would be funny to climb on the stepstool and knock the oil over.”

  “Why did you need a step stool?”

  “Because your pancake mix is on a high shelf!”

  “Why are you making pancakes at this hour?”

  I decide to let them fight this out, and manage to right myself.

  “Mick, you go sit down in the living room.”

  As I say this I realize he’s the only one who isn’t covered in oil. Unfortunately, now that their playmate has run off, the dogs manage to careen themselves off the oil slick, and fly past me into the living room.

  Of course they are now doing what dogs do when they don’t like a substance on their bodies—rubbing themselves all over the carpet and the edge of the couch…oh, now Duncan is headed for the drapes.

  Claire continues to freak out as she attempts to get her mother to a standing position. I should help, but the living room is…

  Ruby seems fine. She’s now standing and pulling Aidan around the kitchen floor, like she’s giving him a ride on a saucer in the snow.

  “Mom, you should ask for help. You could break a hip.”

  Mrs. M. shakes off her daughter and says, “You were busy upstairs, and that husband of yours…”

  “What did I do now?” Brandon comes up from the basement and arrives at the kitchen door, with a look of shock and horror on his face.

  Claire and Brandon begin to argue as I kick off my shoes and grab kids and dogs, tossing them onto the back deck. The yard is securely fenced, so they can’t go far.

  Once all the little, greasy creatures are outside, I go back in to help with the rest of the carnage, and say, “Okay, so who is now in favor of hiring Tatiana as a daytime helper?”

  It’s a three ring circus in this place, and the ringleader has lost all control of the monkeys.

  Max

  “Knitting, huh?” I lean back in my chair and tap my fingers on the side of my beer mug.

  Amber looks down and says, “Yeah, I guess that’s a pretty lame hobby. I started it when I was pregnant. My mother-in-law was into it. Now she’s into siding with her lying, cheating son.” She looks up and blinks hard. “Sorry, that just slips out occasionally.”

  “I understand. It’s fresh. Raw. So he was a paralegal at the law firm and was screwing around with one of the lawyers?”

  “A partner in the firm, no less. It was
bad. The moron lost his job. They aren’t going to get rid of a senior partner. It’s a lot easier to find another paralegal. So he hasn’t been paying child support. His mother claims he’s looking for a job and he’s going to start paying soon.”

  “So you quit working when Eden was born?” I glance beyond Amber’s soft, red hair and see Katie. I had a feeling she’d be working tonight. She’s not our waitress, but she’ll notice us.

  “Yes, but I’ll probably have to go back to work. I was an accountant, but I only had a junior position. So enough about me. The band sounds pretty cool. What kind of music do you guys play?”

  “It’s a mix of rock and metal. We started out as a cover band, but we’re doing some new stuff now—branching out and doing shows out of town.”

  She leans forward with excitement, the way women of all ages seem to behave around musicians. It’s a joke because we’re still nobody. But I’ll let her be a fan girl.

  “Rock and metal. I don’t really know any of that music. Charlie and I mostly listened to country.”

  Instant pain in my gut. Shit. That’s a show stopper. She’s beautiful, sweet and I could even tolerate her knitting me a sweater, but country? I just can’t.

  “Wow, I can’t say I know anything about that genre. Bianca and I are strictly head bangers.” I laugh but she looks worried, as if we have actually injured ourselves and suffered brain damage.

  “Oh, I get that reference now.”

  She smiles and takes a drink of her lemonade. I don’t get why she wanted to come to a bar if she doesn’t drink.

  We sit in silence for a moment, and Katie uses that opportunity to pounce. Suffering from the shock of the country music confession must have weakened my radar, and I didn’t notice she was hiding in the shadows.

  “Hey, Max! How are you?”

  Katie squeezes my shoulder and leans in to kiss my cheek. Seriously? That girl has never once planted her lips on any part of me.

  Amber looks pale and she fidgets with her napkin.

  “Hello, Katie. This is my friend, Amber. Amber, this is Katie.”

  They exchange the normal pleasantries and then we have dead silence again.