Free The Importance of Being Married by Gemma Townley

disappeared, either; they were just thinner, higher, arched, and they made my cheekbones suddenly stand out, turning my face into a kind of permanent question mark.
    “She no like,” Pedro said, his face falling. “She no like the makeover.”
    “No,” I said quickly. “I mean…I don’t…it’s just…I…” I cleared my throat. “I just never thought I could look like that,” I managed to say, eventually. “It’s just different, that’s all.”
    “Good different?” He had so much hope in his face, I couldn’t tell him how shocked I felt, how doubtful. I looked down at my hands, which were covered in cut hair. My hair. I felt like Samson. I felt like Cinderella. I felt thoroughly confused.
    “Good different,” I agreed, uncertainly. Pedro, having decided that everything was okay after all, beamed.
    “Yes!” he agreed. “Different is good. Is all good.”
    “Good? She look good?” Maria appeared behind him and stared at me in the mirror. “Ah, yes,” she said approvingly. “Now pretty girl, huh? Now much better.”
    I nodded weakly, still trying to equate the reflection in the mirror with myself.
    “Wow,” Helen said, raising her eyebrows at the commotion as she pulled herself away from her magazine. “You are an amazing man, Pedro,” she murmured, surveying my reflection.
    “And Maria, you’re an amazing woman,” she added quickly, when she noticed Maria glaring at her.
    Pedro put his hands on my shoulders. “People, they have surgery,” he said sadly, “but all they need is hair cut.”
    “And eyebrows,” Maria pointed out. “Eyebrows more than hair, in fact.”
    Everyone digested this thought for a few moments, unwilling to argue with her, and then Helen pulled me up. “Okay, time to go. We’ve got shopping to do.”
    “Shopping? But I hate shopping. And I haven’t got any money.”
    Helen rolled her eyes. “Think of it as an investment,” she said impatiently.
    I stood up slowly, and in a reflex action pulled my hair behind my ears. But it wouldn’t stay. It was shiny and soft, and immediately bounced back to its cascading fringe.
    “A Jessica-proof haircut.” Helen smiled as she pulled me out the door. “It really is a minor miracle.”

 
     
    Chapter 6

     
    “I CAN’T DO IT.”
    It was the following morning, and suddenly what had been one of Helen’s crazy ideas was now beginning to be very real and very scary.
    “You can so do it.”
    I swallowed nervously. Helen and I were standing in front of her full-length mirror as she put some finishing touches on my makeup. Makeup! I’d never worn makeup to work before.
    It wasn’t just the makeup, either. I’d been up an hour and a half already, being tutored by Helen on the arts of flirting (you have to stay in the same room as the person you’re trying to flirt with), smiling (push lips out before allowing corners of mouth to go up, and don’t show too many teeth), accepting a compliment (look up seductively, and say “thank you,” then smile; don’t raise your eyebrows as if to suggest that the person complimenting you is an idiot), and what not to do with hands (drum fingers on the table, gesticulate vigorously), and it had just hit me that this wasn’t a game; this was real.
    “I really can’t,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Honestly, Helen. And I don’t need the money. I mean, money doesn’t make people happy. Friends and love make people happy, right?”
    Helen smiled and wrapped her arms around me. “Jess, I’m your only friend. Trust me, you need the money.”
    I grimaced, then, shaking myself, focused back on my reflection. I was perched on two-and-a-half-inch heels, my legs clad in the thinnest of nude tights, my thighs encased in a skin-skimming skirt that didn’t even attempt to reach down to my knees. A soft, cashmere sweater covered my top half, and around my face my new, swingy mane of hair was glistening like I was in a hair spray ad.
    Helen clocked my expression. “You don’t like