Adrianne Byrd - Wedding Chocolate

An hour later, Isabella was in tears.

“It’s orange!”

“Now calm down,” Aubrey said, trying to shush her and calm her growing hysterics.

“I can’t calm down,” Isabella screeched. She jumped out of the stylist’s chair to edge closer to the vanity mirror. Maybe it was just the lighting.

No. Her hair was orange.

Isabella pivoted toward Waqueisha who stood frozen with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. “I can’t go anywhere with my hair looking like this!”

“Uhm. Er.” Waqueisha blinked. “It’s actually...kind of...cute.” She glanced at Aubrey. “Sort of a golden auburn.”

“What?” Isabella swiveled back to the mirror, but through her tears her hair looked like a pumpkin.

“Honey, don’t panic.” Aubrey jumped into action and led her back to the chair. “If you don’t like it, we can tone the color down a little.”

“A little?” Why had she trusted this stranger with her hair? She would have been better off if the woman had shaved her bald. She couldn’t stop the tears even if she tried. Once they started, it looked like there was no end in sight.

“Trust me. I’ll take care of it,” Aubrey promised, glancing over at Waqueisha.

Waqueisha, however, stood staring at Isabella’s orange hair with bulged eyes and a slack jaw. What could she say?

An hour later, Aubrey had not fulfilled her promise. And when she at last consulted the product she was using she discovered the hair color was permanent and not temporary as she had originally thought.

“Oh, Isabella. I’m so sorry,” Aubrey apologized profusely.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix my hair,” Isabella sobbed.

“We can always buy you a wig,” Waqueisha suggested.

“Or I can give you a nice little cut and you can rock a slanted bob,” Aubrey tossed in.

Was she serious? After screwing up her hair color, did this woman really think Isabella was going to trust her with a pair of scissors?

“No, thank you. I think you’ve done enough.” Isabella snatched the cape from around her neck.

But Waqueisha placed a restraining hand against Isabella’s shoulder. “We have to do something with it.”

“I am. I’m going to find a pharmacy and buy some black hair color and change my hair back.”

“You can’t do that,” Aubrey and Waqueisha exclaimed.

Isabella blinked at the force of their protest. “Why not?”

“Because your hair will fall out,” Waqueisha advised gently and then pried the cape out of Isabella’s tight fingers. “You know the color is not that bad.”

If she was lying, Isabella couldn’t detect it.

Waqueisha finished snapping the plastic cape around Isabella’s neck and then took her hand into hers. “It’s just a radical difference because we’ve never seen you with much color. But trust me. After a nice cut and a visit to the M.A.C. counter, you’re going to look like a new woman.”

“I already look like a new woman: Rainbow Brite’s black sister.”

Aubrey laughed but quickly clammed up after twin smothering glares from the sorority sisters.

Waqueisha gave Isabella’s hand an affirming squeeze. “Trust me.”

Isabella reluctantly settled back in the stylist’s chair and tried to prepare for the worst, if there was such a thing.

Chapter 10

“I’m not going,” Isabella declared after staring at the stranger in the mirror for the past hour. She had signed up for a makeover—not to look as though she’d enlisted in the federal witness protection program where she could only be identified by fingerprints.

“Of course you’re going,” Keri said, sliding a gold hoop earring through her ear. “You look fabulous.”

Waqueisha bobbed her head in agreement as she slipped into a red backless number and then jumped into a pair high-heel pumps.

Instead of Waqueisha’s place, they had all agreed to dress at the downtown Ritz Carlton because it was closer to The Zone—where the CD release party was being held.

“You didn’t do all this hard work for nothing. Just think of tonight as a practice run for when you return to D.C.”

“I show up like this and I’ll probably be disowned and Randall may not give his ring back.”

“Sounds like a win-win situation,” Keri said and glanced at her watch.

Isabella didn’t miss the “amen” looks that passed between her sorors. In truth, since she had removed her ring, it felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She would enjoy her small time of freedom—at least try to anyway. She rubbed the bare space on her ring finger again, dreading when she’d have to put the pretty shackle back on. And she would have to put it back on. Her father would see to it.

“We better get a move on, girls. We’re running late.”

Isabella twisted and turned in a white Chanel number better suited for the red carpet. Her bright hair color did look better with the slanted bob and her new makeup transformed her from ordinary to...different—at best. She took another long look at herself in the mirror. “I’m not going,” she announced. “I can’t.”

“C’mon, Izzy.” Keri wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave them a hearty squeeze. “You’re going to have a good time.”

“Trust me,” Keri insisted with another hearty squeeze. “Would I steer you wrong?”

* * *

Derrick and his boys entered through the doors of The Zone ready to play. One look around at the exotic décor let everyone know that no expense was spared. But what drew every man’s eye were the scantily clad women in pearl thongs and breast pasties.

Stanley sighed and looked like he was ready to start drooling. “Did we just die and go to heaven?”

The boys laughed.

“Stan, my man,” Hylan said, wrapping his arm around Stanley’s pencil thin neck. “If you can’t score tonight, you won’t have to ever worry about when to retire your playa’s card. We’ll take it from you.”

During a rumble of laughing agreement, Stanley turned ten shades of red.

“Thanks, guys. No pressure.”

“Go get ’em, tiger.” Taariq pounded Stanley’s back and then gave him an encouraging shove.

“Drinks?” a feminine voice floated from behind them.

Derrick turned toward a smiling ebony beauty wearing the themed pearl thongs and pasties. After nodding his appreciation of her feminine curves, Derrick placed his drink order.

“Looks like someone’s not so sick of the game anymore,” Charlie chuckled before placing his own order.

Derrick didn’t bother to defend himself. Just because he was getting tired of the playa’s life didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a fine woman when he saw one.

Minutes later, the guys separated and melted into the crowd. A few times, Derrick made it onto the dance floor with barely-twenty-one Kidd Rhymes groupies dropping it like it’s hot. Though he was having a good time and enjoyed the couple of drinks that had already hit his bloodstream, Derrick longed for something more.

* * *

Isabella felt like a fish out of water the moment she entered The Zone. Seeing so many hip and beautiful people milling about pushed all of her insecurity buttons. Who was she kidding? She could never blend in with this crowd. She was a straight-laced tax attorney and daughter to one of the most powerful men in Washington.

She didn’t belong here.

“Relax,” Keri shouted over the ridiculously loud music. “You look like you’re ready to turn tail and run.”

That was exactly what she wanted to do.

“Yeah, loosen up,” Sylvia shouted above the music.

Waqueisha tapped her on her left shoulder and also yelled, “I gotta go play hostess. Have a good time.”

Before Isabella could say abracadabra, Waqueisha disappeared into the crowd.