Chapter Thirty
Tiffany
“YOU’RE UP NEXT, Tiffany.”
I stared at myself in the mirror and felt a sense of calmness that I hadn’t felt in the last few weeks.
“You look exquisite,” remarked the makeup artist, Rene, who had a slight French accent.
Our eyes met in the mirror. “Yes. Thanks again for not overdoing the eye makeup.”
He smiled. “Eyes like yours look better without.”
“Thanks,” I replied, standing up.
Tonight I had on a long, red dress that tapered to my waist, showed a hint of cleavage, and flowed down to a small train. I felt like I was ready for the Oscars.
“Be careful you don’t step on the dress,” he said, helping me spread the bottom out.
“I’ll try.”
This time my red heels were only two inches, nothing compared the previous week when I wobbled in the other ones.
“I’ll w
