The Warmest Winter✓

Twenty-two

Tricking Sam to go to the salon is a piece of cake. Naturally my friend loves anything lazy that involves a good outcome—spa and salon being one of them. However, for some new reason, she is not really in the mood for this as she complains non stop about her desire to sleep right now.

"Can't we do this tomorrow? I'm really tired, Kiki," she states gruffly.

We're already at an extravagant beauty salon, somewhere near the Las Vegas Mall. There's no way I'm letting her go.

"Please do it for me, Sam. I have a date with Liam tonight and I gotta look my best," I tell her beseechingly. Roshni and Natasha are trying hard to stifle a laugh, and they better not laugh.

"Plus there's a party later and we're all attending! Woo-hoo!" Natasha cheers.

Sam squints her eyes in a quizzical manner. I'm sure she finds something odd about this, but her intelligence hardly goes out of the box—that I'm very much aware of—so we're safe at this particular moment.

"Alright! Fine." Grunting, she leads the way in.

"Yes!" I mouth, sharing a big smile with my team.

The service is spectacular as we all settle in. Pink and light grey adorns the interior of the salon, some music playing in the background. My focus is on Samantha whose hair is under treatment at the moment. My toenails are being professionally clipped, and I'm only praying that this day goes as I want it to be.

Still moody, Sam is seated silently with her head inside the dryer. Moments pass by until she's out, and her hair becomes beautiful when they remove the rollers. Shiny and wavy, with additional platinum blonde she constantly adores, as the natural black was already showing, my friend surely looks gorgeous.

"You like it?" asks the lady who's doing her hair, standing behind her.

"Um . . ." Sam tilts her head with eyes in the mirror in front of her. A smile tugs at her lips when she adds, "I love it."

"Great!" I'm reeling at my little triumph. "Can you do a very gorgeous makeup for her?" I ask the lady, who's actually a short Asian woman with a doll face.

"With pleasure." Evidently she loves her job.

That to be said, the rest of us also use an opportunity to get ourselves presentable, ready for the big day. Not knowing what's been happening behind her back, Sam starts lamenting as they put extraneous makeup on her face. I just roll my eyes, inwardly muttering "You have no idea what else is in store for you".

I know I'm playing with fire.

And when Samantha stares at herself in the mirror, her eyes beam. She can't believe the look of her own self: her lips adorned in a hot pink lipstick, her face glowing flawlessly, every product used seeming to be blending perfectly with the tone of her skin, and her hair tied up delicately into an alluring bridal bun.

"Oh my. Who are you?" I feel awestruck, so amazed by the way she looks.

Oh no, I feel like a proud Mom. My eyes are damp, a hand blocking my mouth as I look at my sole sister—my best friend. She's absolutely stunning.

"God, you look beautiful, girl!" Natasha says, and Sam takes a deep breath.

She's blushing, but confusion remains uneased on her face now more than ever. She's clueless after all, thirsty to understand all this attention we're giving her.

"Okay, I know I look like Kim Kardashian right now, or better, and I truly appreciate it. But why? Where exactly are we going to look this dashing?" Sam asks, determined to understand this whole charade we've been pulling.