Owned by the Don

Dressed Up, Falling Apart

She whipped out her phone and dialed a number.

“Yes, Lena, I’d like to order two party dresses please. One for my friend, the other for me. You know what my tastes are. Order them and send them to the apartment on 24 Starr Street. The apartment number is #310.”

Riley’s instructions were brief, accurate, and, in my opinion, a little blunt. I wonder who Lena is.

“Okay, so the dresses are being organized,” she said, putting her phone away. “In the meantime, go take a shower. By the time I’m done with both our hair, the dresses will have been delivered.”

I nodded and quickly tied my hair into a high bun so it wouldn’t get wet. While showering, my thoughts subconsciously drifted to what Riley had said about going out and having fun to forget the breakup. A small part of me still clung to the foolish hope that Marcus still loved me and that any minute he’d burst through the door begging for forgiveness. But the more logical part had already accepted the truth and was ready to move on.

So that’s what I’ll do. Move on, forget about Marcus, and get on with my life. It won’t be easy, but hey, life isn’t exactly a bed of roses now, is it?

Finished with my shower, I patted my face dry with my herbal scrub and slipped into my robe. When I re-entered my room, Riley was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Are the dresses here yet?” I asked.

“Not yet, but sit down, and I’ll do your hair,” she instructed.

“Wouldn’t you like to shower first? My hair can wait.”

“No, it’s fine. I showered before I came here. Now sit.”

I smiled and let her lead me to my dressing table. She sat me down and started pulling a comb through my hair. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll look so beautiful your douche bag ex will do nothing but hate himself for letting a gorgeous thing like you slip through his fingers.”

I shook my head in amusement and let her work her magic. While she did my hair, we chatted about light topics, laughing and making jokes while periodically sipping our wine.

Finally, my hair was done. Riley wanted to style it in some exotic up do, but I preferred to wear it out and loose on my back in all its curly glory. As long as I don’t sleep with it like this, I’ll be fine. Talk about a morning rat’s nest.

I wanted to do Riley’s hair for her, but she simply took it out of the braid, brushed it a couple of times, and used some gel to keep the front neat. Usually she went all out, but today she kept it simple.

“Our dresses are here. I just got a text from Lena. She’s right outside,” Riley said, heading to the front door.

“Who’s Lena, by the way? I’ve never heard you mention her before. Is she a friend? A relative?” I asked curiously.

“Lena is one of our maids,” Riley replied casually.

“Maid? Why would you need a maid? I thought you lived alone.”

Just then, Riley stopped and turned to look at me, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. “Sorry, slip of the tongue. Lena is just a friend. She was out at the mall today and I asked her to pick up the dresses. She owes me a favor.”

I nodded, accepting her explanation.

Opening the door, Riley took the two boxes from Lena, who was standing in the hallway in her uniform. “Thank you, Lena. And if you don’t mind, please inform my husband that I’m going clubbing with a friend,” she requested.

“Nessun problema, signora,” Lena replied with a respectful bow before leaving.

(No problem, ma’am.)

Placing the boxes on the bed, Riley handed one to me.

“This one is yours. Go ahead and try it on.”

“Thank you, Riley,” I said, smiling as I took the box and headed to the bathroom to change. I quickly slipped out of my leggings and blouse and pulled the dress over my head, adjusting the straps so they wouldn’t dig into my shoulders.

“Hey Riley? I noticed a pair of heels in the box,” I called out from inside the bathroom.

“I know, the heels come with the dress,” she explained.

“You really didn’t have to, Riley. I have shoes in my closet that I could’ve worn. What was the need to buy a new pair?”

“The heels match the dress perfectly. I have good taste, you don’t. You might have worn a red dress with yellow heels,” she teased.

“What? That’s not true. I do have good taste,” I protested indignantly.

“I know that. I’m just messing with you. Chill,” she giggled.

I heard her mumbling outside the door and chuckled to myself.

“This dress is outrageous. I can’t wear this, Riley. It’s too short, it’s tight, and the front is exposed,” I whined as I stood in front of the mirror wearing the red, ruched, spaghetti-strapped bodycon dress.

“Hey, that dress is gorgeous,” Riley retorted, stepping into view. “You’re just not accustomed to wearing dresses like that.”

“But look at it. It’s not my style.” I did a full three-sixty turn to survey my reflection. It did look good, I had to admit. But if my mother saw me in this, she’d fly over here and slap me so hard I might get whiplash.

Riley came over wearing her own dress, and I had to admit she looked absolutely breathtaking. Hers was a black, strapless mini dress with an asymmetrical bottom and diamond-embellished fringe on her left leg. Gorgeous.

“Okay, so tonight it’s all about us. No ex-boyfriend, no eviction, no jobless predicament, and no stress. It’s going to be a fun night,” Riley said, taking my hands and flashing me her million-dollar smile.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “Thanks, Riley. That makes me feel so much better.”

“Alright, my car is parked outside, so let’s go. This nightclub opens at seven, so we can grab a bite to eat at the nearby restaurant and then head over,” she said, grabbing her bag and car keys before sauntering to the door. I followed.

Just as we opened the door, we came face to face with Mrs. Elena Vargas, hands on her hips and glasses perched on the bridge of her pointy nose.

She looked at Riley and me up and down, shaking her head in disgust. “Going clubbing, eh? Amazing, Miss Petrova. You’re barely scrapping enough money to pay rent, but you have enough to go for a party? See, that’s the problem with you young people. You’re all talk, but when it’s time to walk, you tuck tail and run!”

I felt Riley’s fists clench at my side. She had always harbored a deep hatred for Mrs. Vargas and the way she treated me.

“Where’s my money, Miss Petrova?” Mrs. Vargas demanded.

“Stop yelling at her!” Riley immediately rose to my defense, her eyes flashing as she glared at the landlady. “She’s only seventeen. How much money do you think she makes? She was fired today, and she’s trying to organize the money regardless!”

Mrs. Vargas looked surprised by Riley’s outburst. “Now see here, young lady. You don’t have any right to speak to me this way. You ain’t even a tenant. You’re lucky I’m letting a brat like you even enter my building!”

“This is my room for as long as I’m paying rent. Riley has all rights to stay here. And besides, she’s not bothering anyone. Say what you want to me, but don’t you dare insult my best friend!” I snapped, glaring angrily at the distasteful woman.

“Come on, Jasmine, let’s go,” Riley urged, pulling some money from her purse and handing it to Mrs. Vargas. “Here’s the rent that Jasmine owes you for last month. Take it and get lost!”

Mrs. Vargas accepted the money with a satisfied smirk and turned on her heel, leaving without another word.

“That nasty old b***h,” Riley muttered under her breath.

“Okay, so tonight it’s all about us. No ex-boyfriend, no eviction, no jobless predicament, and no stress. It’s going to be a fun night,” I repeated Riley’s earlier words. She smiled instantly.

“Firstly, I don’t have an ex. I don’t need to worry about eviction. I don’t need to work, and I’m not stressed out. Just pissed off.”

I giggled, and we linked arms as we left the apartment to go have our night of fun. I was serious when I said this too. Tonight was all about us. Letting it out and letting it go.