Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (42 page)

She smiled. “Maybe you can play some for me?”

“Sure. Maybe.”

“I accept your offer, but don’t go over the top, okay? I’ll want to pay you back eventually, or I won’t be able to live with myself. Makeovers are expensive.”

“I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about it.”

“Makeover? Did someone say makeover?” Jenna sat up straight in the back seat. “Are we giving Dustin a makeover? He
so
needs one! Dude, I get to help!”

Vere felt her smile grow tense. Hopefully she hadn’t heard them talking about Dustin’s disguise. “Not
him.
Me.”

Dustin shoved his glasses back on, twisted in his seat and broke out the retainer smile. “Jenna Riley, you do instthult me. I’m the makeover king. I have an uncle in Los Angeles who’s a
stthtylist
. And my mom, she’s quite the fashion maven,
stthoo
I’ve offered to help our Vere.”

Jenna rubbed her eyes and blinked, finally looking around. “Are we at the mall?”

Vere shook her head. Great. “Yeah, sleepyhead. Waiting for you to wake up.”

“Will you make me over too?”

“Of course. Now come on, I’m tired of looking at you two through these dumb, cracked glasses.”

34: creating my own demise

Dustin

“Good God,” Dustin muttered under his breath as he looked at Vere’s and Jenna’s transformations. They were sitting side by side in the salon chairs. The stylist was just finishing Jenna’s blow-out.

Vere seemed stunned. Her eyes were wide, facing the mirror. Her brow had not once lost its worried looking creases as she stared at her reflection.

He stepped back, farther out of sight, wondering what in the hell he had done? Curtis Wishford’s attention span was about to get very, very long. Long on Vere Roth.

He sighed, resigned. Maybe it was for the best.

He’d outdone himself with this deal. He hoped Vere and Curtis fell madly in love with each other and just left him alone after this.

Hell.

He had no idea how to talk to her. The girl he’d grown to know had completely disappeared, and it was his fault! This Vere looked twenty-five and yet, still sixteen all at the same time. She was so beautiful sitting there looking worried and so unbelievably gorgeous that Dustin’s heart wrenched.

“Jeez. Help. There is no way I’m going to school looking like this,” Vere squeaked to Jenna.

“Why? You look like a golden, glowing Malibu Barbie doll,” Jenna said. “Those highlights are so cool. I’m the one who looks like a newscaster. Why did I go for the French look? I thought French meant ‘Euro-sexy’ but I don’t think I’m ready for the big city. It will take till summer to grow back my approachable, Anne of Green Gables length.”

She tugged at the ends of her now, shoulder length hair. “I hope I can still braid it.”

Vere shifted in her seat. “Should I smack you for calling me a Barbie? And you look amazing, Jenna. Look. Your cheekbones are so perfect now. The bangs show off the angle of your eyes. You’re stunning, and it’s totally long enough for your braids.”

“Okay, fine. I’m adorable, it’s true.” She pulled a face. “And Barbie is beautiful, through and through. It was compliment, honest.” Jenna wiggled her eyebrows. “You have to admit, the waxed brows are awesome. We look like we have fairy wings. Who knew all the models in the magazines did this? I always thought they just had special, model eyes. I thought it was the extra, thickening-eyeshadow and gobs of perfectly applied color that made their eyes so cool! I’d never made the waxing connection. I’m addicted to this look.”

“All pictures need a frame,” the stylist said.

“YES, they do. I’ll be back here with my twenty bucks just as soon as these babies try to grow back in. No wonder people grow up and get real jobs. It’s to pay for the eyebrows and haircuts. Look at us!”

Vere turned her head to the side, fluttered her lashes and wiggled her brows imitating Jenna in the mirror. “Yeah. Right? Eyebrows: A++!” Vere said, catching sight of Dustin’s reflection.

She gave him an accusing look. “How long have you been standing there watching us be vain and ridiculous?”

Dustin came forward, his hands heavy with shopping bags. “Long enough. Like what you see, huh?” He had to force himself to keep his face impassive. At least the voice coming from this beautiful woman’s mouth sounded like Vere’s.

“What do you think?” Vere gave him a worried glance. “Love or hate?”

Hate. Hate. Hate.

Dustin faltered. He wished he could shout his feelings out to her. But also understanding this little make over would send her farther away from him than he could have ever imagined she would go. And tomorrow, at school, she would go far. He had to let her, and though it hurt, this was the only proper course for both of them.

“Vere. I love it. It’s just what you wanted, and it fits you perfectly. Try to get used to it.”

Like I will.

Vere smiled at his reflection as he continued, “This will stop Curtis in his tracks. There’s going to be a full on line-up for you two tomorrow. It’ll be a bloodbath. You two are so beautiful right now.” He’d included Jenna in that statement, but his eyes had never left Vere’s.

Jenna laughed. “Oh do I wish, and thanks!”

Vere didn’t say anything, but Dustin noticed the worried crease had left her forehead. That was answer enough.

She believed him, and that alone put a band aid on his aching heart.

“What’s in the bags, shopper?” Jenna asked.

“What do you think I did with my time and your clothing sizes? I fixed your wardrobes.”

“All that’s for
us
? Did you rob a bank?” Jenna grinned.

Dustin could tell Vere was not pleased. Looking down at the huge mess of bags he realized he’d probably just drawn a lot of attention to himself with this deal.

Guys from Bakersfield might not have this much change to spare. “Yes. I robbed a bank. Of course not. I have a—a trust fund going to waste,” he said using the carefree bravado he’d learned from Vere. “I decided I didn’t want to argue with you two over who was paying for what, nor did I want to discuss fashion or tastes, because I am the boss of this makeover. Inside these bags you will find your futures as popular beauties. Down to a homecoming dress for each of you.”

“Wow! Yay!” Jenna clapped her hands.

Vere chewed on her lip and tilted her head to the side. “Dustin. This is too much.”

Jenna spun her chair around and around with undisguised glee until the stylist stopped her. “This is awesome. I love you, Daddy Warbucks! But I’m not going to homecoming, remember?”

“Anything you don’t like, take it back. The receipts are all there.”

Dustin met Vere’s troubled gaze and realized he had to get out of here. The stylist had finished spraying Vere with a fog of spray-gel. His thoughts drained out of him like water.

He sucked in a deep breath and just had to stop and stare all over again.

“That should do it for both of them,” the stylist said. She handed him a receipt. Also to avoid arguments, he’d paid earlier on his way out to the shops.

“I’ll get my mom to pay you back for most of this, Dustin. She’s been offering to do this with me for years.” Vere stood and peeled off the stylist’s cape and placed it on the chair.

“Yeah, me too. I was due for a haircut,” Jenna added.

“Whatever,” Dustin managed to sound cool and collected but he was desperately aware his brain was about to shut down.

Vere’s glorious hair, about four inches shorter now, and cut to frame her face, slid across her back and shoulders in a dry waterfall of sparkling gold highlights. The stylist hadn’t added a lot of color, just enough to make Vere’s brown eyes stand out and show off the green specks hidden in their depths.

They were definitely not hidden now.

Hell.

He sighed and pulled in a breath of nails. He thought he could handle being near Vere and quietly admire her from afar. But with her looking like this and wasting it all on Curtis, the friend thing was going to be impossible.

His heart hurt, everything hurt. This had gone too far.

He didn’t think he could hang out with her any more, not without causing a scene or making a fool out of himself. His lungs tightened as though they’d turned into a suffocating brace.

Vere, unaware of his terrible disquiet, got out her hair ties and quickly pulled the glowing, highlighted mass back into her bun. “There.” She sighed with apparent relief and turned to face him with a smile. “That feels better.”

“Good God!” Dustin accidently said that out loud.

It couldn’t be helped. The highlights streaked across her crown and her newly shaped, arching eyebrows enhanced her usual pixie look to over-the-top gorgeous! Her bun was no longer a wild and out of balance cluster clump. This stunning, made-over bun had instantly framed her face with wisps of hair that were now too short to get caught in the rubber bands. A few longer, soft looking tendrils had dropped out, and now curled softly against the back of her neck.

“Wow,” Jenna echoed his thoughts. “Vere. You can’t even hide in your bun anymore. Now you look just like a
Princess Barbie.
”

Vere turned back to the mirror as though to analyze what they’d said.

Dustin mourned the loss of his cute, blushing gnome girl and her missing tumbleweed topper.

There was no way Dustin would be at school tomorrow to watch her debut. He’d just developed a huge case of the heartbreak flu.

Jenna jumped out of her chair. “Now show me what’s in those bags. I’m dying.”

“Stay back. Just stay back!” Dustin almost laughed because he’d meant those words for Vere who wasn’t even looking at him, or moving.

He figured he was only seconds from losing his mind.

Vere turned to him, surprised.

Dustin looked away quickly and gestured to the bags to cover his outburst. “Uh. You two will have to check out the loot on your own. I’m done with the mall. I have to get back for some—stuff. I’ve called Nan. She’s meeting me out front in like...five minutes,” he lied.

Shit. It’s going to take her forever to drive down here.

“You guys will have to finish up without me. Sorry, should have warned you,” he added.

Vere raised her now, perfectly distracting brow as though she sensed something was off.

Well it is way off! So! Way! OFF.

“Oh. It does feel like we’ve been here for hours,” she said.

“Three hours and fourteen minutes, to be exact,” he choked out, heart racing.

Shit. Why did I say that? I sound like I’m going crazy.

Oh. Whatever. I am.

“One more thing—about the dresses,” he tried to cover. “In case I forget.” He couldn’t drag his gaze away from Vere’s.

“What?” Jenna asked, as she jumped up and down in front of the bags. “OMG. Dresses!”

Dustin broke Vere’s gaze and forced his eyes to stay on Jenna. “The cream colored dress, I—uh—picked it for Vere. It’s going to make her eyes glow. The sea-green one is yours, Jenna. It should do the same,” he added, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He couldn’t understand Jenna’s reply. She’d dived squealing into one of the department store bags.

He didn’t have to look up to know Vere had heard, though. Who cares? He felt like an utter fool.

A fool in love. Hell, that’s what I am.

A fool in love, with no ride home.

The lump returned to his throat. For the first time in a long time he noticed he’d forgotten to breathe.

Without another word he raised a silent hand to them and stalked out of the salon.

**

When Dustin finally made it home three hours later, he spent the evening alone in his room cleaning up. He decided to check his phone, but the drawer to his night stand was jammed.

The now crumpled, cardboard hair-color box and his old plane tickets from LAX to DEN were the culprits blocking his entry. He had press to down and tear the box in half to un-wedge the drawer. Staring at the shredded model’s face in the bottom of his trash can, he read the words: ‘black Italian coffee’ to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair.

He hadn’t had his own hair colored at the salon because he didn’t want Jenna to question why he needed to do that.

Maybe tomorrow, he’d ask Aunt Nan to go get him a new box of this junk. He could color it again himself in the bathroom and be ready to go by Tuesday. Maybe. But more than anything, he simply didn’t want to dye his hair anymore.

The only thing left in the drawer was his once beloved cell phone.

He plugged it into the wall and waited for it to get enough juice to power up. He snorted when he noticed his email box and the alerts that told him he now had over 32 new text messages and emails combined. At a glance it looked as though all of them had been sent by Martin over the weekend.

He was not going to read any of his suck-up, fake bullshit. Instead, he did what Martin had asked him not to do.

He called his mother’s number directly. It was time.

Her voice mail clicked on without one ring. He hadn’t expected her to answer. His mother was a call-screening queen.

Instead of hanging up, he listened like a starving person to the buttery, raspy sound of his mom’s polite voice mail message.: ‘Hi. You’ve reached Molly Kennedy. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you right away.’