Chapter 9 - Getting Ready

Jennifer barely slept.

Every time exhaustion finally started pulling him under, panic dragged him back awake again.

What if someone recognized him?

What if his voice slipped?

What if the makeup looked ridiculous in daylight?

What if Michelle’s coworkers laughed the second he walked through the door?

At 1:14 AM, he checked the clock.

At 2:37, he adjusted the blanket for the tenth time.

At 3:52, he seriously considered pretending to be sick.

By the time he finally drifted into something resembling sleep, the alarm on his phone exploded beside the bed.

5:45 AM.

Jennifer jerked awake instantly, heart pounding.

For one confused second he forgot where he was.

Then the blonde hair brushing his shoulders reminded him immediately.

Monday.

Interview day.

The guest room felt cold as he sat up slowly, satin nightgown wrinkled around his legs.

From somewhere downstairs came the sound of cabinet doors closing softly.

Michelle was already awake.

Jennifer rubbed tired eyes and stood carefully.

The breast forms shifted slightly beneath the nightgown as he walked toward the bathroom.

Even after two days, the sensation still felt surreal.

Everything did.

—

By the time Jennifer came downstairs 15 minutes later, Michelle stood in the kitchen dressed for work already.

Ivory blouse.

Black slacks.

Hair perfectly styled.

Coffee in hand.

Composed.

Normal.

Like today wasn’t completely insane.

Michelle looked up from her laptop.

“You’re up.”

Jennifer stared at her tiredly.

“I think I slept maybe forty minutes.”

“You’ll survive.”

Easy for her to say.

She wasn’t about to walk into corporate America pretending to be someone else.

Michelle crossed the kitchen and handed him a coffee mug.

“And before you shower,” she said, “I left a shower cap in the bathroom.”

Jennifer blinked.

“A what?”

“A shower cap.”

“I know what it is.”

Michelle sipped coffee calmly.

“Your hair took six hours and a small fortune. Don’t get it wet.”

Jennifer stared into the mug.

There were moments now where Michelle discussed his appearance with the same practical tone people used for dry cleaning instructions.

And somehow that was almost more unsettling than the makeover itself.

Michelle glanced at the clock.

“I need to leave by seven.”

Jennifer’s stomach tightened immediately.

Once Michelle left, this became real.

—

Upstairs, Jennifer showered carefully beneath the ridiculous floral shower cap.

When he stepped out afterward, the navy sheath dress hung neatly from the closet door.

Beside it:

* nude pantyhose,

* nude heels,

* simple jewelry,

* and the structured beige cardigan Michelle had selected the day before.

The outfit looked professional.

Adult.

Completely unlike anything Michael Brennan had ever worn in his life.

Once she had her shapewear on, Jennifer sat slowly on the edge of the bed and rolled the pantyhose carefully up his legs, terrified of ripping them.

Then the dress.

By the time he managed to pull the sheath dress carefully into place, his hands were shaking badly enough he struggled reaching the zipper.

A soft knock sounded against the guest room door.

Michelle stepped inside.

And paused.

For a second, she simply stared.

Jennifer stood frozen beside the mirror.

The navy dress hugged his figure cleanly.

The blonde hair framed his face.

He looked…

real.

Michelle recovered first.

“Turn around,” she said quietly.

Jennifer obeyed automatically.

Michelle stepped behind him and slowly pulled the zipper upward.

The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

Then she fastened the clasp carefully at the top.

For a brief moment her hands rested lightly against his shoulders.

Neither spoke.

Then Michelle reached into her blouse pocket.

“I almost forgot,” she said softly.

Jennifer turned slightly as Michelle held up a delicate gold heart necklace.

His breath caught instantly.

It was the necklace he had given Michelle when they were dating.

Twenty-three years ago.

Back when neither of them had imagined life turning into this.

Michelle looked suddenly self-conscious.

“I thought…” she started quietly.

“…maybe it could bring you luck. Lift your hair up.”

Michelle stepped closer and carefully fastened it around his neck.

The tiny gold heart rested gently against the neckline of the dress.

Jennifer looked at his reflection.

The necklace somehow made everything feel more emotional than feminine.

More personal.

Michelle’s eyes met his briefly in the mirror.

Then she looked away first.

“I have to go,” she said quickly.

Jennifer nodded.

Michelle hesitated near the doorway.

Then quietly:

“Good luck today, knock ‘em dead girl.”

And just like that, she was gone.

—

At 6:40 the front doorbell rang.

Kathy entered carrying enough makeup products to supply a television studio.

“Oh good,” she announced brightly seeing Jennifer completely dressed.

“We’re behind schedule already.”

Jennifer blinked.

“We are?”

“Confidence, sweetheart. We don’t have time for panic.”

Kathy transformed the kitchen island into a makeup station within minutes.

Brushes.

Powders.

Sprays.

Lip colors.

Setting products.

Jennifer sat stiffly on a stool while Kathy worked expertly.

“You already have excellent structure,” Kathy murmured while blending foundation.

“Michelle got lucky there.”

Jennifer looked terrified.

“I’m going to throw up.”

“No you’re not.”

“I might.”

“You’ll ruin the lipstick.”

Jennifer exhaled shakily.

Somehow Kathy’s calm confidence made everything feel slightly less impossible.

Halfway through eyeliner, Sophie wandered downstairs wearing her school hoodie and backpack.

She stopped immediately when she saw Jennifer.

“Oh my God.”

Jennifer froze.

Sophie smiled instantly.

“You look amazing.”

Jennifer laughed nervously.

“I look terrifying.”

“You look like someone who works in HR and judges people professionally.”

Kathy pointed approvingly with a makeup brush.

“That’s exactly the energy we want.”

Sophie stepped closer, studying the final look carefully.

The navy dress.

The nude heels.

The soft makeup.

The blonde hair.

Then casually:

“Good luck today, Aunt Jennifer.”

Jennifer blinked.

The words still felt surreal every time.

Before he could respond, Kathy suddenly gasped dramatically.

“Oh my God,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest.

“That is adorable.”

Jennifer groaned softly.

“Please don’t encourage this.”

Kathy ignored him completely.

“Aunt Jennifer,” she repeated happily.

“I love it, and technically you are my niece Sweetie.”

Sophie grinned triumphantly.

Jennifer covered his face briefly with one hand.

“This family has completely lost its mind.”

Kathy laughed while reaching for mascara again.

“And yet somehow you’re the prettiest one here this morning.”

Jennifer looked horrified.

Sophie nearly fell over laughing.

A few minutes later, Kathy finished with a final dusting powder and leaned back proudly.

“There,” she declared.

Jennifer looked into the small makeup mirror slowly.

The woman staring back looked polished.

Professional.

Approachable.

Employable.

Kathy handed him his purse and car keys.

“Shoulders back,” she instructed automatically.

“And smaller steps in the heels.”

Jennifer stood carefully.

The heels clicked softly against the hardwood floor.

Real.

Everything suddenly felt terrifyingly real.

Kathy gave one final approving nod while studying Jennifer beneath the kitchen lights.

“Almost forgot.”

Before Jennifer could ask what she meant, Kathy reached into her oversized tote bag and pulled out a pale pink perfume bottle.

Jennifer immediately looked nervous.

“What now?”

“No woman walks into an interview smelling anxious.”

“I don’t think anxiety has a scent.”

Kathy smiled knowingly.

“Oh, sweetheart. It absolutely does.”

Then she stepped forward and lightly misted perfume at Jennifer’s neck and wrists.

Soft floral and citrus notes settled gently into the air.

Jennifer blinked.

“…That actually smells nice.”

Kathy looked deeply satisfied.

“Chanel Chance Eau Tendre,” she said proudly. “Elegant, feminine, clean. Perfect for an office.”

“I used to smell like aftershave and coffee.”

Kathy smiled warmly while straightening the cardigan sleeve one final time.

“And today,” she said softly, “you smell unforgettable.”

Kathy squeezed his hand once.

“You’ve got this, sweetheart.”

Jennifer nodded uncertainly.

Then he walked toward the front door.

Out onto the driveway.

Cold morning air brushed against bare legs beneath the hem of the dress.

The sound of heels clicking against pavement echoed sharply in the quiet neighborhood.

Jennifer climbed into the driver’s seat carefully, smoothing the dress automatically the way Michelle had shown him.

Hands trembling slightly against the steering wheel.

For a long moment, he simply sat there breathing.

Michael Brennan was unemployed.

Jennifer Russo had an interview.

Finally, Jennifer took one slow breath…

and started driving.