Love on the Dotted Line

Chapter 8: Dress-Up and Show-Up

Grace plops down on her bed, her face scrunched like a confused puppy. "Ugh, I'm lecture-free today, but Mr. Antonios wants me to meet his brother tonight. Talk about pressure! I'm as clueless about dating as a fish is about riding a bicycle. My last date? Ancient history - two whole years ago! And not with some loaded guy. I can't even put on makeup without looking like a clown threw up on my face. What am I gonna wear? Do I even own anything that doesn't scream 'I live in sweatpants'? Jade, help! I don't wanna get the boot 'cause I'm not exactly a supermodel. Wait a sec... am I ugly? Do people look at me and think, 'Yikes, put a bag over that'?"

Jade grins, shaking her head. "Girl, you're not ugly. You're just... poor. Lucky for you, I'm a makeup wizard - well, more like a makeup apprentice. We'll keep it simple - no need to go full Kardashian. I'll be your fairy godmother for the night. Heck, we can even recruit the girls next door. They love a good makeover project. Now, clothing... How about that sunshine yellow top? Or the bubblegum pink one? I know your wardrobe is more 'comfy' than 'cutesy', but we'll work with what we've got."

Grace's voice wobbles like jelly on a plate. "I don't know, Jade. My stomach's doing more flips than an Olympic gymnast."

Jade pats Grace's shoulder, her touch as comforting as a warm blanket. "Hey, if it's too much, just say the word. You've got till sunset to decide. No pressure, okay?"

"Yeah, you're right," Grace nods, her brain finally kicking into gear. "Maybe I can find a way to help Mom that doesn't involve selling my soul to Mr. Moneybags."

Jade beams like she's just won the lottery. Finally, Grace is using that pretty little head of hers!

"Oh, shoot!" Jade yelps, eyeing her watch. "I'm late! Gotta jet to class. We'll gab more when I'm back, 'kay?"

As Jade zooms out like Sonic the Hedgehog, Grace flops back on her bed, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Suddenly, her phone bursts into song - it's Aunt Lauren calling.

"Aunt Lauren?" Grace chirps, surprise coloring her voice. She wonders what could be so urgent to warrant a crack-of-dawn call from her usually late-rising aunt.

Grace's heart sinks like a stone in a pond as Aunt Lauren's words crackle through the phone. "Your mom got very sick last night, sweetie. We had to rush her to the hospital. The doc wants to run some tests, but... we're a bit short on cash."

"Oh no," Grace whispers, her mind racing to the check she's been hiding like buried treasure. "Don't worry, Aunt Lauren. I've got some money squirreled away. I'll send it faster than you can say, 'Get well soon'."

Aunt Lauren's voice drips with concern. "Are you sure, hon? I know you're working your tail off with that part-time gig. How on earth are you making ends meet?"

Grace feels her nose growing like Pinocchio's as she fibs, "Don't sweat it, Aunt. I'm... I'm leveling up in the job world. I might even ditch the whole university scene for a fancy new gig. Found some sweet deals with paychecks that'll make your eyes pop!"

"Are those tears I hear, Grace?" Aunt Lauren asks, her mama-bear instincts kicking in.

"No way, Aunt! I'm fine as a fiddle. Once I snag this job, we'll be swimming in success," Grace chirps, her voice wobbling like a tightrope walker.

Just as Grace hangs up, feeling like she's swallowed a boulder, her phone buzzes again. Without checking, she answers, "Hello?"

"Hello, Grace, it's Maria. I trust you remember me," the crisp voice on the other end states.

"Oh, yes, ma'am," Grace squeaks, suddenly feeling about two inches tall.

"Change of plans. Be at The Regal Crest Hotel by 10 AM sharp. Your temporary future hubby awaits. Don't you dare be late," Maria barks, hanging up before Grace can even squeak a goodbye.

Grace feels a spark of anger, then remembers she's essentially a paid actress in this drama. 'Patience, Grace,' she thinks. 'Life's no bed of roses, but at least it's tossing you a lifeline.'

Glancing at her phone, Grace sees it's already 8:30 AM. The Regal Crest is a solid 15-minute trek away. It's a place of unimaginable luxury that Grace had only ever pressed her nose against its windows.

Panic rises in her throat like bubbles in soda. 'I don't have a single thread that screams "I belong here"!' she realizes, tears threatening to ruin whatever makeup she manages to slap on. 'Jade's not here to work her magic. How am I supposed to transform into Cinderella without a fairy godmother?'

As Grace stares at her reflection, feeling as glamorous as a potato, she wonders if she can pull off this Regal Crest rendezvous without looking like she got dressed in the dark.

Grace dives into her closet like she's searching for buried treasure. Her fingers brush past the ancient blouses Jade mentioned, and she almost gives up hope. Then, eureka!

"Oh, jackpot!" she squeals. A plain black T-shirt, the sole purchase from last month's modest shopping trip. It's simple, with a casual crew neck that screams, 'I'm cool, but I'm not trying too hard'.

Pairing it with her trusty blue denim jeans, the high-waisted ones that hug her hips just right, Grace slips them on. She feels like she's channeling some effortless casual chic vibes.

Standing in front of the mirror, Grace tackles her hair with the determination of a warrior princess. She whips it up into her go-to party 'do - a messy bun that says, 'I woke up like this, and I look fabulous'. A few strands escape, framing her face like a halo of rebellious curls.

Makeup time! Grace specks of dust on some compact powder, then swipes on her only lipstick - a daring dark pink. The eyeliner goes on with surgical precision, and thank the beauty gods she'd tamed her eyebrows last week!

Glancing at the clock, Grace yelps, "Holy guacamole! It's 9:15 already?" Her stomach growls in protest, and she imagines the horror of it serenading her fancy date. Quick as a flash, she whips up a sandwich, scarfing it down while eyeing the clock like it's her mortal enemy.

A quick gargle of mouthwash later (can't risk sandwich breath!), and Grace is ready for the final touches. "Oh, perfume!" she gasps, giving herself a generous spritz. The bottle gets tucked into her purse - just in case.

Slipping on her black high heels - the ones reserved for when she needs to feel like a queen - Grace takes one last look in the mirror.

Grace takes a deep breath and steels her nerves. She steps out, ready to face whatever challenges this unpredictable day might bring. Look out, Regal Crest - Grace is coming, and she's bringing her A-game!