It was only once I had explained my theory out loud to her that I became fully aware of what a hair-brained idea this really was. It could all turn out to be a wild goose chase. But this map was the only thing I had to cling to.
You look great, Sam said.When I got ready that evening, I’d put on a tight black skirt and a long-sleeved black-and-white-striped T-shirt that clung to the better parts of me. I took more care applying my mascara than I had in years. When it clumped, I used a safety pin to straighten my lashes, the way I’d seen my mom do when I was a child.
And then I put on pale pink ballet flats and headed toward the door.I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror just as I was leaving the house.Something wasn’t right. This wouldn’t do. I turned around and exchanged my flats for black heels. Suddenly, my legs looked longer than they had any right to be.
Feeling confident, I went back into the bathroom and outlined the edges of my lips in a perfect crimson line, filling it in with a lipstick that was called Russian Red. I’d only worn it once a few months ago when I took Marie out for a fancy dinner in Back Bay. But I’d liked it then. And I liked it now.When I made my way back to the front door and once again caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I felt borderline indestructible.
I knew I looked good.
This was my good look.But not for long. Pulling me out of my thoughts, Brett jogs toward me, Reagan in tow. It’s happening, he says excitedly, urging me to follow them while Reagan gets the rest of the group’s attention. We have to go—now.
I don’t understand, I say.Lennon dusts his hands off. What’s happening?
The bar, Brett says. I convinced one of the guests to order three mixed drinks.Which means, he says, the bartender will head back to the kitchen to fetch them. The bar will be unguarded. Now is our chance. Are you going to sit around throwing scraps of iron with old geezers, or do you want to have fun?