Chapter Eighteen
October
“You know, I never thought I’d live to say this, but I think your apartment is officially messier than mine right now. And considering that my place looks like an obstacle course, that’s really saying something.”
Cara lowered the blanket she’d pulled up over her head just enough to glare at her best friend. “It’s not that bad,” she protested.
“Oh, I beg to differ, amiga,” trilled Mirai. “At least at my place the trash has been emptied out on a regular basis, which is more than I can say for this dump. Which, by the way, is starting to smell like an actual dump.”
Cara stuck out her tongue. “Maybe that’s because you have a maid who does that stuff for you,” she replied testily. “Unlike some of us who can barely afford to buy peanut butter and store brand corn flakes.”
“Hmmpf. You could have bought yourself twenty five thousand dollars worth of peanut butter and corn flakes if you hadn’t been dumb and torn up that check,” reminded Mirai in a haughty voice. “As well as a new laptop, a new wardrobe, and a visit to the hair salon. I’m not sure which of those things is in worse shape right now. Your laptop is being held together with safety pins and duct tape, your clothes - well, don’t even get me started on those. And your hair - Jesus, Cara, do you even brush it anymore?”
Cara made a horrible face. “Of course I brush it!” she replied indignantly. “Just – well, just not today. Yet. But the day’s far from over.”
“Seriously? It’s almost five o’clock. Have you even moved your ass out of this bed all day? Except apparently to get that half-eaten bowl of cereal you left on the end table. And – omigod – tell me you are not still in your pajamas! Though now that I think of it, I’m guessing you haven’t showered either.”
Mirai wrinkled her pert little nose in distaste, causing Cara to scowl darkly at her BFF. The fact that she hadn’t actually showered or changed out of her comfiest jammies as yet was irrelevant.
“Fine.” Cara shoved the bedcovers aside with a huff and stood, hastily brushing off the crumbs from something she’d munched on earlier off of her pajamas. “Since the sight and smell of me obviously offends you, I’ll go take a shower now. Does that make you happy?”
Mirai sniffed. “It’s a start. But what would really make me happy is if you cleaned this place up, ate a real meal, and returned to the land of the living. It’s been over a month since that bastard broke up with you, Cara. You need to start finding a way to get over it.”
On bare feet Cara padded over to the dresser and started rummaging through it for clean clothes, only to frown in bewilderment when she had trouble finding any. “You’ve probably got a point there,” she agreed with a sigh. “Because I apparently also forgot to do laundry last weekend. The only clean underwear I have is an old sports bra that’s a size too small, and these.”
She held up a pair of once-white cotton briefs that shrieked “granny panties” and also sported a frayed waistband. Mirai shuddered daintily, as though the very sight offended her.
“I thought I told you to throw those out the last time we did a closet cleaning,” reprimanded Mirai. “Or use them to scrub your bathroom floor.”
“Well, good thing I didn’t,” replied Cara caustically, “or I’d be going commando right now. I’ll have to make sure I get to the laundromat tomorrow, since these are literally the only clean clothes I have left.”
Mirai gave the oversized T-shirt and baggy sweatpants a disdainful look. “They don’t look too clean to me. And while you’re at it, throw these gross pajamas in the wash, too. What sort of stain is that anyway?”
Cara glanced down at her Minion pajamas – the ones Mirai had given her for Christmas last year – and frowned as she noticed the stain on the top. “I’m not exactly sure,” she admitted. “It could be mac and cheese. Or yogurt. Or both.”
“Jesus.” Mirai shook her head in disbelief. “Okay, listen to me. You’re going to take a shower – immediately – and put these things on, disgusting as they are. In the meanwhile I will actually get my dainty little hands dirty for once and take out your trash and make your bed. Though if I break a nail in the process I’m going to be really pissed. Then when you’re nice and clean, we’re going to load up all of your dirty laundry into my car – including your sheets – and go to my place. You can do your laundry there while I order in some real food. And then after dinner, while I do your nails – which are beyond appalling, by the way – it’s going to be time for some tough love.”
Cara opened her mouth to protest, until she saw the fierce expression on Mirai’s face, the one that always meant “you do not want to fuck with me right now”. Instead, she meekly gathered up her last remaining set of clean clothes, and headed off to shower.
When she emerged several minutes later, with her hair freshly washed and combed and smelling of soap and shampoo rather than B.O., she admittedly felt better. And seeing how much Mirai had managed to tidy up the apartment in such a short amount of time also helped to boost her mood – which lately had probably been at its lowest point since her mother had passed away more than four years ago. The trash had been hauled away, the sheets stripped from the futon, the dirty laundry stuffed into bags and left by the front door. Mirai was even making a start on washing the pile of dirty dishes that had been stacked on the kitchenette’s single counter.
“Wow. Until I saw it with my own eyes, I wasn’t sure you actually knew how to use a dishtowel,” joked Cara.
In response, Mirai tossed the damp towel at her. “Here. This needs to be washed, too. I assume you have clean ones somewhere?”
“I’ll get one. And I’ll finish the dishes, too. I don’t expect you to clean my place up for me, Mir.”
Mirai shrugged. “Why? You’ve cleaned mine more times than I can remember. That semester at Berkeley when you slept on the couch you insisted on tidying up every single day. Even now with the maid service my place isn’t as clean as it was back then. And you can finish your dishes tomorrow. Rene’s away with her boyfriend this weekend, so you should stay overnight and use her room.”
“I have homework to do,” pointed out Cara.
“It’ll keep for one night. Besides, if you do your laundry at my place that’ll save you time tomorrow. Stay at my place tonight, we’ll go out to a yummy brunch in the morning, and then I’ll drop you back here and you can study the rest of the day.”
“Fine,” agreed Cara reluctantly. “But only if you let me pay for dinner tonight. Or brunch tomorrow.”
“Nope.” Mirai shook her head. “Because I want really expensive sushi tonight, and brunch at Zazie tomorrow, where you couldn’t even afford a Bloody Mary. And since I’m not willing to lower my standards to eat at someplace you could afford to take me, it’s my treat for both meals. And I don’t want to hear one single word of protest, okay?”
“Okay,” replied Cara in a meek voice. “Thanks, Mir. I’ll find some way of returning the favor one of these days.”
“If you’d cashed that check from the two-timing bastard, you could have returned the favor by treating me to dinner in Las Vegas,” muttered Mirai darkly. “Not to mention a massage and a cute new pair of shoes.”
Cara laughed in spite of how depressed she’d been feeling. “He didn’t two-time me,” she insisted. “I’ve told you this. Say what you want about Dante – and God knows you’ve said plenty – but I know him well enough to say without the slightest doubt that he isn’t the sort to cheat. And we’ve also discussed that damned check far too many times. I’m just sorry I ever mentioned the stupid thing to you. Even if I’d needed the money for some rare medical treatment I wouldn’t have accepted that check. It’s – it would have been blood money, Mir. Or a guilt offering. And I would have felt like a whore for taking it.”
Mirai waved a hand in dismissal. “You worry about that stuff too much, Cara. Hey, it’s not like the guy couldn’t afford it. And so what if the only reason he offered it to you was because he felt guilty? He should feel guilty, damn it. He took advantage of you. Used you. And then dumped you when someone better came along. Uh, not better. That’s not what I meant. Shit.”
Cara patted her on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. And frankly, Katie is better than I am. At least, she’s much, much better looking. She’s gorgeous, in fact. Frankly, I don’t know what I was even thinking of going out with Dante after he’d been with someone like her. I mean, it’s like settling for Andre after you’ve been drinking Cristal champagne on a regular basis.”
Mirai gave her a none-too-playful smack on the upside of her head. “Would you stop it already?” she demanded. “I’m so sick of this pity party you’ve been hanging out at for the last month. And with the comparisons to Katie What’s-Her-Face. In fact, that party is officially over with now. And that particular name is not to be mentioned in my presence again. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered Cara meekly.
After loading all of Cara’s laundry into the trunk of Mirai’s sleek Lexus sedan, they made the nerve-wracking drive to her place – nerve-wracking because Mirai was far from the best of drivers. She liked to joke that she was the stereotypical bad Asian driver, even though she was only half-Japanese. Cara had thus far restrained herself from telling Mirai that her horrific driving was no laughing matter, and merely made sure her seat belt was securely fastened and that she clutched the edge of her seat for dear life whenever she drove with her.
Once the first load of laundry had been started, Mirai ordered up dinner for them, pulling a bottle of wine out of the fridge while they waited for the food to be delivered. Cara curled up on the ultra-comfy white leather sectional sofa, a sofa that she’d slept on more than a few times since Mirai and Rene had bought the pricey piece of furniture. Or, more accurately, since their father had bought it for them, as he’d done everything else in this luxurious two-bedroom condo.
“Thanks, Mir. For everything. The wine, ordering in dinner, letting me do my laundry here rather than at the laundromat where you never know what weirdo, drunk, or homeless person is going to stagger through the doorway next.”
Mirai nodded, and promptly refilled their wine glasses with the very expensive Chardonnay that her father had bought a case of during his visit last month. “No need to thank me. I’m just happy to see you emerge from your cave for once and looking halfway human. Please tell me you do not go to work looking as bad as you did earlier today. No offense, but you looked sort of scary.”
Cara would have been tempted to give her BFF the finger, except for the fact that what she’d just said was all too true. “Of course not. Tough as it’s been, I drag myself out of bed every day and make it to the office looking presentable. Though Angela’s asked me several times if everything’s okay.”
“What did you tell her?” asked Mirai.
“Not the truth, of course. At least, not the real truth. She knows I was seeing someone named Danny, but thank God she’s yet to put two and two together and figure out it was actually Dante. I just told her that we’ve stopped seeing each other, and that it didn’t work out.”
“And that you’ve fallen into a severe depression as a result,” added Mirai. “Though by the time I drop you off at your place tomorrow, that will no longer be the case.”
“Hmm.” Cara regarded her friend skeptically. “And how are you planning to snap me out of my funk, huh? Let me guess. You’re buying me a puppy? No, pets aren’t allowed according to my lease. I’ve got it! You’re taking me to the circus. Oh, never mind. I forgot you have this deathly fear of clowns.”
Mirai tossed a throw pillow at her. “Do not even mention those horrible creatures! And no, Smart Ass, my plan does not involve puppies, kittens, or anything else cute and cuddly. My idea for making you smile again is to help you make yourself over.”
“Huh? You mean like makeup and hair and stuff? Mir, you know I can’t afford any of those things, and I am not going to let you foot the bill. You do way too much for me already, like dinner tonight and this bottle of wine that you told me costs beaucoup bucks and brunch tomorrow at that place that has the nerve to charge eight dollars for a single slice of coffee cake. Do you have any idea how many coffee cakes I could make for eight bucks – whole cakes and not just a little slice. So you’d better forget..”
Mirai tossed a second pillow Cara’s way, hitting her square in the forehead with this one. “My mistake in saying you were depressed. It sounds like you just drank five espressos instead. And if you could stop yapping for a minute, you’d let me explain.”
Cara set the pillow aside. “Fine. As long as you stop throwing things at me. I feel like one of those bean bag toss boards.”
Mirai shuddered. “Ugh! And that makes me think of clowns again. Once when I was around eight I went to a neighbor’s birthday party and she had a bean bag toss board with a fucking clown painted on it. I had nightmares for a week. Anyway, back to what I was saying. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase “looking good is the best revenge” Otherwise known as the Breakup Vendetta?”
Cara frowned, but her interest had nonetheless been piqued. “I guess I’ve heard the first part, not so sure about the second. But what does that have to do with me? I mean, as upset as I was when Dante ended things, it wasn’t like he cheated on me, or was ever dishonest. Frankly, I’m surprised he dated me as long as he did, especially after seeing pictures of..”
Mirai held up a fist threateningly. “If you say her name one more time, I will not be responsible for my actions, okay? And maybe revenge or vendetta aren’t exactly the right words to use under the circumstances. That doesn’t mean you can’t, uh, tone things up a little bit and get your hair cut. If for no other reason than to feel good about yourself, Cara.”
They were briefly interrupted by the arrival of their food, but once they started eating the wide array of sushi Mirai had ordered, she resumed the conversation.
“Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a little makeover, buy a few killer outfits, and then see Dante’s reaction at the finished product?” prodded Mirai. “Come on, you’ve got to admit it’s tempting as hell. No better feeling in the world than flaunting yourself in front of the guy who dumped you, and making sure he knows how stupid he was in letting you go.”
Cara smiled wistfully. “It sounds awesome, no doubt about it. But sorry to sound like a broken record – where in the world do you think I can come up with the money for a makeover? My tuition went up this semester, and my rent’s going up the first of the year.”
“I thought Nick and Angela give you a nice bonus at the end of the year.”
“They do, and I expect they will again this year. But I need that money to buy a new laptop,” acknowledged Cara. “When Len fixed it for me last month, he warned it was just temporary and that I should start looking around for a replacement. I guess I could buy a used laptop and use some of the bonus to buy a new outfit or two and get my hair cut.”
“Hmm. Except some new clothes and a hair cut are just part of it,” mused Mirai. “You also need to get serious about those extra twenty pounds you keep bitching about but never do anything about actually losing. Diet and exercise, baby. Those need to be your two new favorite words.”
Cara’s chopsticks paused halfway to her lips, a piece of Lion King roll wedged in between them. “Well, I really can’t afford to join a gym or buy a lot of healthy food like fruits and veggies.”
“You don’t have to join a gym,” Mirai pointed out. “I’ve got a dozen different DVD sets of workouts – kickboxing, power yoga, boot camp, salsa dancing, some stuff you’ve never heard of. As you know, I’ve got a serious late night TV shopping addiction, so I’m a sucker for whatever new method comes out. We’ll look through them after dinner and you can borrow whatever ones sound the best to you. And before you ask – no, I am not using any of them right now. I also get bored easily, as you also know. Right now I’m taking a Barre Method class.”
“And exactly when am I supposed to fit in an exercise routine?” demanded Cara. “I do work fulltime and go to school, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Mirai shrugged. “Get your ass out of bed an hour earlier in the morning. It’ll suck but the results will be worth it. As for affording the food, I’ve got another idea about that.”
Cara glared at her friend. “If you suggest I start growing my own fruits and vegetables in my landlady’s backyard, I’m going to poke your eye out with this chopstick.”
“Please.” Mirai made a sound of disbelief. “As if I’d suggest something so, well – rural. No, I was going to point out that you do have another way to come up with the extra money. Re-directing it might be a more accurate term.”
“I am not giving up my apartment and sleeping on your sofa for the next ten months,” declared Cara. “So you can forget about my using rent money on shoes and makeup and better food.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” assured Mirai. “Though it goes without saying that the offer still stands. Tell me. How much do you think it costs you each year to fly roundtrip to Florida for Christmas? Not to mention your cab fare to and from the airport since your father’s too much of a dick to pick you up. Oh, and for good measure let’s add in the cost of the Christmas presents you buy for him and the wicked stepmother and the bratty half-siblings.”
Cara set down her chopsticks, suddenly not hungry despite the fact that she’d only had a bowl of cereal all day. “Are you suggesting that I don’t go home for Christmas this year?” she whispered. “That I use that money on myself instead?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” confirmed Mirai. “Come on, Cara. You told me how horrible it was there last year, how unhappy you were. And once again you cut your trip short by two days because you hated being there so much. So why in the world do you want to voluntarily put yourself through all that bullshit again, waste all that money, when you could be spending it on a much worthier cause – yourself.”
Cara’s jaw dropped open in shock. “But – but I’d be all alone,” she murmured. “At Christmas. You always spend the holidays in New York with your family, and I wouldn’t have anywhere else to go. I – I don’t want to be alone at Christmas, Mir. The rest of the year I don’t mind so much, but not Christmas.”
“Sweetie, I hate to break the bad news to you, but guess what?” replied Mirai snarkily. “You might be surrounded by a houseful of people down there in Florida, but you’re still alone. And I don’t want to make you feel bad, Cara, but can you honestly tell me that your father would really give a damn if you didn’t fly down there?”
A tear began to track down her cheek as she sniffled. “No,” she mumbled in a barely audible voice. “He – he’d probably be relieved, actually. If he even noticed I wasn’t there, that is.”
“Hey.” Mirai rushed over to embrace Cara as she started to cry. “God, I’m sorry, amiga. I didn’t mean to sound like a total bitch and make you sad. All I wanted was to have you think about yourself for once, instead of all these loser guys you’ve allowed to take advantage of you. Especially your father.”
“I know.” Cara picked up a paper napkin and blew her nose. “And you’re right, Mir. He does take advantage of me, takes me for granted all the time. But missing Christmas – not giving the kids a little gift. I don’t know if I’m ready for something that extreme.”
Mirai returned to her seat and popped a huge piece of tempura shrimp in her mouth. “Tell me again what your dad and the wicked stepmother gave you for Christmas last year? Or your birthday this year.”
Cara sighed, seeing all too clearly where her friend was headed with this line of questioning. “Nothing for my birthday. An email from my dad ten days after the fact but no gift or official card. As for Christmas – let’s see. Oh, that’s right. They gave me a set of bath gels. The same exact set that someone gave Holly the year before. The one she bitched about because it had been bought at TJ Maxx, and the price tag hadn’t been removed. And she didn’t even have the sense to remove it when she re-gifted it to me last year.”
“And how much did it cost?”
Cara’s cheeks reddened in shame. “Around ten dollars,” she admitted reluctantly.
“And how much did you spend on gifts for the four of them? Not to mention the gifts you send to the kids for their birthdays?”
“A lot more than ten bucks,” replied Cara. “I get your point, Mir. My dad and Holly obviously don’t give a shit about me, or wouldn’t care whether I show up or not for the holidays. But to not spend Christmas with my father? He – he’s all I have left,” she whispered sadly.
Mirai shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Your father checked out of your life over four years ago. Now it’s time for you to return the favor. And I realize it won’t be easy, Cara, but it’s like I said before – you need to kick all of the toxic guys you keep attracting in the ass. Starting with the worst one of them all.”
“I know,” acknowledged Cara wearily. “But I’m just not sure I’m strong enough.”
“Of course you are,” argued Mirai. “Cara, you’re the strongest person I know. Now prove it, and tell your dad you aren’t going to Florida this Christmas. Use the money you would have spent on airfare and gifts on yourself. You deserve it way more than he does.”
Cara exhaled deeply. “You make it sound so easy. And I totally get what you’re saying, understand the rationale. But accepting something and actually finding the courage to make it happen are two different things.”
Mirai raised her wine glass in a little toast. “Well, if anyone has enough courage to do something like that it’s you. Give me a call when you realize that for yourself.”
Cara’s finger hovered over the speed dial button on her phone, wondering for the fifth time in as many minutes if she really had the nerve to make this call. Ever since Mirai had dropped her off an hour ago, she had been struggling with what the right thing to do really was. It was a certainty that the man she was thinking of calling wouldn’t appreciate being contacted, but at the same time she desperately needed to get a few things cleared up. She had to know, needed to hear stark truths if need be, so that she could finally move on. So that she could find the courage to become stronger, and never again let herself be used or taken for granted by the men in her life.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, pressing the call button. “Though there’s only a fifty percent chance at best that he’ll even answer.”
The phone rang a total of five times, with Cara fully expecting it to go to voice mail as it so often did, when an impatient male voice finally answered.
“Cara. This really isn’t a good time.”
She sighed, also having anticipated this sort of greeting. “Hi, Dad. And sorry to bother you as usual, but this will only take a few minutes. And it’s really important. Please.”
Mark Bregante huffed in irritation. “It would be much easier for me if I could call you back. We have a houseful of people here right now for Hunter’s birthday.”
Hunter was Cara’s little half-brother, and his third birthday was in a few days. Cara had already mailed him a present, one she had been ill able to afford, but it was important to her to try and maintain some semblance of a relationship with her half-siblings.
“Isn’t it a little early for his party?” inquired Cara. “His birthday isn’t until Friday.”
Mark sighed, clearly not happy that she was still on the line. “Today’s party is just for the family. We’re having another, bigger party next Saturday for all of the kids. Look, I really need to get back, Cara. Holly wants me to get the barbeque going.”
“Of course she does,” muttered Cara under her breath. She thought back briefly to the small, simple birthday parties her mother had given her as a child, and was hard-pressed to recall even one time when Mark had been present, much less actually helping out.
It was that recollection, not to mention the remembrances of all the other times he had let her down or disappointed her or simply not been there for her, that strengthened Cara’s resolve now.
“No, Dad,” she told him firmly. “I need to ask you something right now. I won’t keep you more than five minutes, I swear.”
“It would be a lot better if I could just call you back,” argued Mark. “What if I call you tonight after the kids are in bed and everyone’s gone home?”
Cara had fallen for that particular trick too many times to count, and wasn’t going to cave in this time. She knew from bitter experience that the promised call back would never materialize.
“That’s the same thing you told me two weeks ago,” she reminded him, uncaring for once that she wasn’t bothering to disguise the snarkiness in her tone. “I’m still waiting for that call back. Just like I’m waiting for a reply to the email I sent ten days ago. Oh, and what about the text I sent you on Thursday just wanting a simple yes or no answer to see if Hunter’s present had arrived?”
Mark was silent for several seconds before grumbling, “Sorry. It’s been a busy couple of weeks. What exactly did you need, Cara?”
She wanted desperately to tell him exactly what she needed - financial assistance so that she could buy a new laptop and not have to struggle so much to make ends meet; his fatherly support and sympathy for the heartache she was still suffering after Dante had broken up with her; for him to answer her calls and emails on a more timely basis, and maybe even initiate contact between them every so often; for him to occasionally remember that he had another child, and to maybe just pretend that he gave a damn about her.
Instead, she merely asked him the question that had been weighing on her mind since Mirai had brought it up last night. “Dad, if - if I decided not to come out there for Christmas this year, would you - well, would that upset you?”
Mark sighed again. He seemed to do a lot of that, Cara realized, as though having to spare a lousy five minutes to speak to his daughter was an imposition of epic proportions.
“Cara,” he replied irritably, “I really don’t have time to talk about this sort of thing right now. I have people waiting for me, depending on me.”
“What about me?” she cried. “Don’t I get to depend on you anymore? Or would it make you happier if I just forgot I had a father. Just like you’ve obviously forgotten you have a third child.”
Mark muttered something under his breath, and she just guessed it wasn’t anything pleasant. “Jesus Christ, you’re really turning into a little drama queen, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Just like your mother.”
Cara recoiled, her father’s unkind words as painful as a slap across the face. “How dare you say something like that about Mom,” she hissed. “After all the bullshit she took from you, how she supported you for years, looked the other way every time you broke her heart. But let’s not go there right now, okay? Neither of us have anywhere near that much time. Just answer the question, Dad. About Christmas. How would you feel if I didn’t make the trip to Florida this year?”
Mark blew out a harsh breath. “You’re a grown woman, Cara, so you can do whatever you want.”
“Yes or no answer, Dad,” she insisted. “Would you be upset if we didn’t spend Christmas together?”
“No,” answered Mark bluntly. “No, it won’t make any difference to me, so if you have other plans feel free. Actually, if you didn’t come out this year that would solve a little problem that came up recently. Holly’s aunt and uncle want to fly in from Houston for the holiday but nobody has room for them, so they were starting to look into motels. But if you aren’t going to come we can just put them in the guest room you would have used. Holly will be thrilled.”
Cara held the phone away from her ear, staring at it in disbelief, unwilling to admit that her own father had really said those callous, impersonal things to her. But, in a way, what he had just told her made the decision she was about to make that much easier.
“All right then. It’s settled,” she replied, feeling oddly calm. “I won’t plan on coming to Florida for Christmas this year. Oh, and since I’m really strapped for cash between tuition and rent increases I’ll have to skip sending out gifts this year, too. Tell Holly she can re-gift her crappy presents to someone else this year, maybe to her aunt from Houston.”
“Cara,” began Mark in a warning tone, but for once she ignored his obvious irritation.
“And since we’re on a roll here, might as well keep going,” she announced breezily. “You know, since you’re such a busy guy these days, Dad, too busy to return my calls or even send a lousy one word reply to my texts, I’ve decided to put the ball in your court from here on out. After today I’m not going to call you. Or email you. Or text you. When you can squeeze out a few minutes from your busy schedule, or remember that Hunter and Bayleigh aren’t your only kids, well - you’ve got my number. Oh, and if I don’t answer my phone just leave a voice mail, and I’ll get back to you. Eventually. You know, just like you do, Dad. You’d better get back to your party now.”
She ended the call before her father could reply, taking several deep, fortifying breaths, as though she’d just sprinted a lap around the track. Cara watched her phone warily for a few minutes, half-expecting her father to call her back after she’d fired off such a bombshell just now. But, unsurprisingly, no call came, and it was with mingled relief and disappointment that she placed another call.
“Mir? It’s me. Well, I’ve been thinking all day about what you proposed last night. You know, about the makeover and how looking good is the best revenge and stuff. And about how I could come up with some extra cash to make it happen. I just added up what I would save between not paying for airfare to Florida and cab rides to and from the airport plus Christmas presents, and I think I can scrounge up around seven hundred dollars. So I guess,” Cara paused to take a deep breath before confirming, “I’m in.”