I follow Melissa as she leads me out of the backstage chaos. A second earlier, she had whispered that she needed to discuss something important with me in private. I trail obediently behind her as we make our way back to Daphni’s dressing room. Inside I spot Ellie, one of Daphni’s makeup artists, perched on the couch, flipping through a tabloid. The instant she sees us walk in, she tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and claps her hands in excitement.

“Gabby!” She squeals merrily as she grabs my hand, pulling me over to the seat in front of the large mirrored vanity. I look over my shoulder at Melissa, who is biting back an amused smile. Once I’m seated, Ellie runs her fingers through my hair, pulling out my ponytail. Confused, I let her work her fingers through my thick curls. Once she’s thoroughly assessed my hair, she smiles at me in the mirror. “We are going to make you look so hot for tonight,” she declares.

I shoot a look back at Melissa. “This is the incredibly important matter you needed to discuss with me in private?”

Her guilty face is all I need to answer my question, and before I can say another word, she interjects, “Gabby, just enjoy it. This night is important for your sister.” She starts to back out of the door. “Oh, and I left an outfit for you on the back of the door.” And before I can get a word in edgewise, she ducks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Meanwhile, Ellie hasn’t skipped a beat. A belt filled with an assortment of makeup brushes is tied at her hips, and she is trailing her finger along a colorful eye shadow palette packed with shades from golden sapphire to fluorescent pink.

Resigned to my fate, I settle into the chair. As Ellie pulls at my hair, I convince myself to try and make an effort to enjoy this evening. Truthfully, I haven’t had a night out in forever. Thinking back, it’s been about a year. In fact, it was my twenty-first birthday and a group of Dutch exchange students had insisted on taking me out for the night. We had ended up at some warehouse club blasting EDM music, and I had sported a killer headache for the next two days. I am pretty sure the headache was mainly thanks to the music, not the alcohol.

“And then we’ll pop some gold on the lids, perfect with your skin tone. And God, your lashes are to die for. I don’t think I’ll even put falsies on you!”

Ellie’s perky voice drags me back to the current moment. She has already slathered some cream on my skin, and is going to town on the dark circles under my eyes. Good luck, those things are not going anywhere.

An hour later and Ellie declares her work is done. I raise my eyes up to my reflection in the mirror and I can’t help but admire my transformation. Ellie is beaming down at me, obviously proud of her work as well. The dark circles under my eyes have vanished and my skin looks like it’s glowing. I tilt my face and the highlighter on my cheekbone catches the light. When I had been bold and tried to use highlighter a few months back, I had turned myself into a reflective disco ball.

“You are worth your weight in gold, Ellie,” I remark as I continue to survey her work. She has created a sultry bronze smoky eye that seems to bring out golden flecks in my green eyes. The rest of my face is simple, and she finished the look with a subtle, nude lip. After seeing how she had transformed Daphni into a sexy Smurf, I had admittedly been worried, but Ellie seemed to have mastered the look no number of YouTube tutorials could help me accomplish.

Ellie beams at the compliment and starts to pack up her tools. She glances up at the monitor in the corner of the room that shows a backstage view of the concert.

“I think your sister’s set has another thirty minutes or so left, so you might want to change up.” She gestures to the garment bag hanging over the door, and I push myself out of the chair to see what Melissa picked out.

As I unzip the bag, I see a flash of black lace. A pair of strappy black heels sit at the bottom of the bag, along with a black clutch.

“Ooh, that’s hot,” Ellie coos from behind me. Her eyes are wide and she leans forward to get a closer look. “Dolce. Nice,” she remarks approvingly.

I pull the dress out of the bag and twirl it in my hands. It is undeniably both shorter and smaller than anything else currently sitting in my closet. But it is also incredibly beautiful, with intricate black lace oversetting a nude sheath that, thanks to its 90% spandex content, is made to hug every curve. The top of the dress dips down to allow for plenty of cleavage, while the back is open, with a delicate pearl clasp at the nape of the neck drawing the two sides together. The sleeves are long, covered in a sheer black lace. It was the perfect mix of sexy and classy. Yet again, Melissa totally nailed it.

Shooting a glance back at Ellie, busy cleaning her makeup brushes and putting away all the products she had used, I kick off my shoes, shimmy out of my shorts, and peel off my shirt. Another quick look at the dress tells me there is no way I can wear a bra, so that comes off next. I step into the dress and carefully insert my arms into the delicate lace sleeves. Once it’s on, I ask Ellie to help me fasten the pearl enclosure.

As she steps back, Ellie whistles appreciatively. “Hot momma!”

I roll my eyes and twirl hesitantly in the mirror. God, it’s short. I tug at the sides in a failed attempt to add a few inches. I hear Ellie tsk me as she walks over, assessing me. Without a word, she dips her hand into the front of the dress and cups my breast. As I feel her hand, I let out a yelp and jump back. Ellie rolls her eyes at me, “Oh, relax. We need to bring up the girls a bit.” Ellie dips her hand back into the dress and readjusts my other “girl,” propping it up to give me even more generous cleavage.

“There you go!” she proudly declares.

I stare into the mirror, almost not recognizing myself. I rarely, if ever, got glammed up anymore. That had seemed too much like a relic of my childhood days, and I actively avoided any events that required any sort of primping beforehand. Like most of the other students on campus, my uniform for the past four years had consisted of yoga pants and comfy flannel button downs.

I pull the shoes out of the garment bag and slip them onto my feet. Though they must be at least five inches, they are comfortable enough that I should be able to tolerate them for at least a few hours. In my head, I am already working out how I can find a way to get my sister alone, deliver the news, and sneak out back to my hotel in under an hour. It’s a tall order, but I am also the master of good excuses and treasure being in bed by ten o’clock above all else in life.

Ellie and I watch the remainder of the concert together in Daphni’s dressing room. My leg won’t stop twitching and I can’t stop fidgeting with my hands. On stage, Daphni looks so happy and carefree. She smiles and commands the attention of every single person in the twenty thousand-seat arena. It tears me up inside to know that I am going to have to ruin her night, to be the one to tell her that, “Hey, congrats on the first night of your tour. You did great. Killer job. Oh, and mom’s dead.”

Egh.

The concert wraps up and Daphni dutifully plays one encore before wishing her audience good night. As I watch her walk off stage on the TV, I feel my pulse race. I rehearse the speech I’d been working on all day. I kept it short. I even put in notes like, “offer comforting hand on shoulder.” It feels so clinical, but then again, I don’t have much experience with this. Thank God for that. As I hear the door of Daphni’s dressing room burst open, I force a smile to my face. Though Daphni’s performance has just ended, mine is just beginning.