Read Scarlet Wakefield 01 - Kiss Me Kill Me for Free Online Page B

of fashion it’s just about to come raging back in again. And I am not one of those girls.
    Thank God I’ve got a pair of jeans that fit. I know it’ll be okay to wear them to the party. Jeans go with everything.
    “Do the sandals fit?” asks the assistant.
    “Yeah, I think so,” I say.
    To my embarrassment, I actually have to think about that, since I am so not used to wearing three-inch heels. I take a few steps, and I don’t fall over or twist an ankle.
    “Um, you might want to do your toenails if you’re going to wear open-toed shoes,” says the assistant nicely.
    I look down at my craggy, unvarnished toenails. The contrast between them and the strappy gold sandals is so awkward it’s comical. I’m like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s shoes. Only this isn’t dress-up anymore. If I’m going to wear the princess shoes, if I’m going to go to the princess party, I’m going to have to act my age. I’m sixteen. I’m not a little girl any longer.
    She comes to stand behind me, tugging and adjusting the gold and brown leather belt and the drapes of the green top so it hangs just right. In the long mirror, I watch what she’s doing. I take a whole series of mental notes. I want to be able to reconstruct this perfectly for Saturday night.
    “Some earrings,” she’s muttering as she touches my hair. “Take this back off the face. You need blusher. And a lot of eyeliner. A lot. I’ll set you up with a nice little makeup kit. Oh, and do you have a pretty bra? Because that one’s showing, and it’s not exactly, hmm  .  .  .”
    In the mirror, I watch myself go bright red. Not exactly the kind of blush she was recommending. I shake my head wordlessly.
    “No problem, I can tell you exactly where to go. Now, why don’t you come over here and pick out some nice earrings? Wow, this is so much fun!”
    I hope she’s on commission, because she’s being really nice to me. Not at all patronizing, which is what I was terrified of. Like the obedient lamb I accused Sophia of being, I walk dutifully over to the counter.
    This is all going to cost me a fortune.
    Lucky, really, that I have a trust fund.

four
    SHINY HAPPY PEOPLE
    The building is a sheer sheet of glass and steel and lights are gleaming behind the windows. I was careful not to show up before ten-thirty, knowing that nothing would be worse than to be the first person at the party. I think I can hear laughter coming from somewhere up above, but maybe I’m hallucinating it, out of nerves. That not-so-rare psycho logical condition where the sufferer thinks everyone is laughing at her.
    There’s a cantilevered glass roof slanting over the entrance. The doors (also glass, I’m sensing a theme here) slide apart as I step onto the gray carpeting that covers the pavement in front of them. They hiss shut behind me with a quiet thunk. The atrium inside is just as impressive as the facade of the building, illuminated by a gigantic chandelier-type thing made out of what look like millions of bits of glass from a shattered bus shelter.
    “Can I help you?” comes a voice.
    I nearly jump out of my strappy gold sandals.
    The voice is coming from a doorman wearing a dark-gray uniform (ooh, he matches the carpet). He’s standing behind a marble desk.
    “Um, yeah,” I start. “I’m here to see Nadia Farouk.”
    “Top floor, Penthouse C,” he says, and raises his right arm briefly to indicate the far wall.
    Lifts. God, this is like a luxury hotel. I tip-tap across the dark-gray granite floor (yes, dark gray again; the people who designed this didn’t have a lot of imagination), feeling awkward, sensing the doorman’s eyes on my back. Wow, I’m already self-conscious. What’s it going to be like at the party?
    The lift door pings open. I press the button that reads PENTHOUSE. As the doors close, I turn to look at my reflection in the smoky mirrors that line the little cabin. My coat is old and a bit tight on me—the buttons are pulling over