I stare at her for a minute in confusion, before I realize that she thinks someone beat me up. I look so bad that it looks like someone punched my face in.
Sara is dying now.
Sophie glares at her. “How can you laugh like that? I think my mom needs a doctor.”
Sara howls.
“Your mom already saw a doctor,” she gasps. “That’s what happened. It’s called Botox, sweetie. And your mom insisted that we go. And apparently, because of a little thing called Karma, your mom has had some sort of reaction.”
Sara is picking up her cell phone as she speaks, punching in a number. A minute later, she’s talking to the doctor’s office. She nods and agrees with someone and then turns to me.
“Are you having problems breathing?”
Sophie gasps and I shake my head quickly.
“No.”
Sara relays that to the nurse, then nods again before hanging up.
“Yep. It sounds like you had a reaction. She said that the swelling should wear off within a day or two probably. If you have difficulty breathing or swallowing, you’re supposed to go to the emergency room. Otherwise, you can use over the counter meds for the discomfort and ice packs. I’m so glad that we did this, aren’t you? What a great idea this was.”
She raises a sarcastic red eyebrow at me. And I glare at her.
“I can’t go anywhere,” I growl. “Not looking like this. I look like I belong in a women’s shelter.”
Sara finally takes pity on me and stops laughing. She actually hugs my shoulders a little.
“I think this has taught us a valuable lesson,” she says seriously.
I nod. “To never have a toxin inserted into our faces?”
She nods. “That, but also, this is why we leave decisions like this to me. I’m the one with the brilliant ideas.”
I don’t bother rolling my eyes because no one would be able to tell anyway. Instead, I just stomp to my bed and drop into it, covering up my head.
Sophie brings me an ice pack when she leaves for school because clearly she is an angel. She gets that trait from her mother. I thank her and give her $20 for lunch. I press the ice to my poor face and pick up the remote. If I’m going to be in bed, I’m going to use it to my full advantage and watch the Lifetime channel all day.
And that is exactly what I do. That is, until my cell phone rings at 4:00 pm. I see from the ID that it is the office, so I have to answer.
It’s Taylor.
“Hey boss,” she greets me cheerfully. “Are you feeling better?”
I had called in this morning and said that I had the flu. Obviously, there was no way that I could tell them the truth.
“A little,” I answer truthfully. “Hopefully, I’ll be back in tomorrow.”
“Good deal,” she replies. “Hey, I’m calling because Alex came by and asked me for the file that he gave you yesterday—the one with the background info on the supplier that you’re going to see this week? I told him that you have it in your briefcase. That’s right, isn’t it?”
I nod, then remember that she can’t see me.
“Yes, I have it in my bag. I’ll give it to him tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” And I freeze at her hesitant tone. Taylor is never, ever hesitant. It’s part of her charm.
“What’s the thing?” I ask nervously.
“He needs it today because he’s putting together some sort of report or brief or something for the meeting. He had to leave early for an appointment and he wanted your address so he could swing by and pick it up afterward. I gave it to him- I didn’t figure you’d mind.”
I want to kill myself. Seriously. Clearly, suicide is the only way out of this.
“When is he leaving, do you know?” I’m surprised that I am able to ask this calmly. I can see a vague reflection of myself in the TV screen and it isn’t pretty.
“He left over an hour ago. I’m guessing that he should be there any time.”
I grit my teeth and take a breath. A very fast breath, since I don’t have a lot of time.
“Taylor, I need you to add something to my calendar for tomorrow morning.”
“Okay- I’ve got it pulled up. I’m ready,” she says. “What is it?”
“Put, ‘Kill Taylor’ in a one-hour block of time at 9:00 am. I want to have plenty of time.”
I then hang up for emphasis.
I’ll apologize tomorrow. For now, I’ve got to figure out what to do.
I briefly consider wearing a Muslim hijab and only shoot the idea down because I don’t have one on hand.
As I’m flying around the room, on the very verge of hysteria, I remember the cooling gel mask that came in a spa kit that Sophie gave me for Christmas. It’s in the freezer right now, probably buried under thirty-four bags of frozen peas. I’ve never used it. And I never make frozen peas, either.
I make a run for the fridge.
I’ll look ridiculous, but it’s better than looking like the Elephant Man.
As I dig through all of the frozen food in my freezer, I am starting to panic because I can’t find it right when I hear a car door slam closed in my driveway.
Craaaaaap.
And then, a miracle. I find the mask buried in the back.
“Thank you, God,” I whisper.
My heart thunders in my chest as I slide the mask over my head and situate it on my face. I don’t even have time to look in the mirror. I can only pray that it hides my hideousness.
The doorbell rings and I straighten my night-shirt and stick my shoulders back. The only way to carry this off is to be confident. And act normally. Everyone answers the door in pajamas and a spa mask, right?
I stride for the door.
I know that I look ridiculous, but I don’t care. And besides, it can’t be helped, anyway.
I throw the door open.
And Alex flinches in the same exact way that Sophie did.
I seriously want to die.
Chapter Fifteen
(Because now is a perfect time to hear from Alex)
Alex
“Holy shit,” I say, before I can help it.
I’m staring at Allison and she looks like a semi has plowed into her. Into her face, specifically. She also looks like she is attending some strange sort of masquerade ball as a disheveled, abused housewife. She’s wearing a night-shirt, bare feet, messy hair and some sort of ice mask. If I weren’t instantly concerned about her well-being, I would laugh.