worn glitter in forever, either. No place for it here, in my
new life.
'I'l do it.' I wouldn't dream of sharing makeup that had
been on her face. No teling what germs could be passed
on that way. I waved her away and went into my
bathroom, where I rummaged beneath my sink.
I puled out my own box of tricks and treats. Lipsticks in
berry shades, eye shadows in rainbow hues. Lots and lots
of half-used black-eyeliner sticks and a few bottles of
liquid eyeliner. I shook one, thinking it must have dried up
after al these years, but when I unscrewed the cap with its
built-in brush, the makeup inside was stil smooth.
I painted a mask. It looked just like me, only brighter.
Bolder. More. Once, I'd worn this face every day. Once,
it had been the only one I had.
My makeup finished, I squeezed into the tight black skirt. I
left my legs bare. I'd be chily on the walk from the parking
garage to the bar, but hot enough inside once I started
dancing. From my closet I puled out a truly fucking
fabulous pair of pumps.
Kira had been bent over her phone, fingers stabbing out
messages, but her eyes widened and she reached for the
shoes. 'Oh, wow. Steve Madden!'
'First pair I ever bought.' I stroked the smooth black
patent leather. Four-inch heels. Most men couldn't have
told the difference between a Steve Madden shoe and a
Payless pump, but they looked twice when I wore them.
Sometimes more than twice.
I slipped into the shoes and stood, adjusting to the way my
center of balance shifted. My mother had taught me the art
of how to walk in heels this high. I used to raid her closet
as a kid and parade around the house in her shoes.
I smoothed the silky shirt over my bely and hips and
I smoothed the silky shirt over my bely and hips and
turned around to look at myself one last time in the mirror.
'Ready to go?'
'I guess so,' Kira said sulenly. 'Except now you look awesome and I look like shit.'
'You look hot,' I promised. What were friends for?
She was convinced, more because she wanted to believe it
than because I'd tried hard. 'Okay, let's go get shit-
hammered!'
I saw him again, that dark-haired man. This time, he was
coming in as I was going out. We passed each other not
so much like two ships, as much as one ship passing while
the other crashes into an iceberg. I couldn't be offended
that his gaze slid over and past me, taking in the short skirt
and high heels without a second look. He had his head
down and was talking urgently into his cel phone. He
didn't have attention to spare me. And it wasn't his fault I
