I was sitting on a light-blue quilted queen-size bed in a light safe house bedroom. My trainer, Jenna, was quizzing me while she pulled outfit options out of the closet and dresser drawers for me to try on.
“Your name is?”
“Jade Lavaigny,” I stated, wrinkling my nose at the pretentious ring of my cover name.
Jenna was a heavily tattooed, purple-haired Light Glow agent with rose-painted lips and sparkly silver nails. She donned black platform heels, which brought her height only to about five feet four inches.
“Where do you live?” Jenna asked. She held up a dark-purple shirt in one hand and a scarlet shirt in the other and stared at them pensively.
“Upper Manhattan.” I paused and pointed to the red shirt. “I like the scarlet one better.”
Jenna nodded and laid it on the bed.
“Where are you from and why are you in New York?” she continued as she sifted through a drawer of pants.
“I just moved into an apartment in Manhattan. I had a job in Florida, but I was offered a job at Boutique Argent, a high-end boutique clothing store, so I accepted and moved up here.” I used the tone Jenna taught me to use, sultry with a touch of sarcasm.
“OK, good. And if someone like Pierre LeBete asks, what is your real occupation?”
“A gunrunner,” I sighed. Most D Glows know the Boutique is actually a front for selling illegal weapons and drugs.
“Although they will likely keep you up front with the clothing customers for the first month or so,” Jenna reminded me.
“I hope for the entire time,” I said, twisting my hair.
“Tsk, tsk,” Jenna stopped to shake a finger at me. “Never be out of character.”
“What is your go-to gun of choice?” she asked, handing me a pair of black suede shorts, stockings, and the silk scarlet top. I looked at the clothes and rolled my eyes.
“Wait until you see the boots!” Jenna exclaimed as she pulled a pair of knee-length black suede boots out of a box in the closet.
“They’re perfect,” I joshed, back in character. “Oh, and my gun of choice is a Smith & Wesson Ladysmith,” I said matter-of-factly, stroking the suede boots.
“Good, Jade. That's exactly the tone you need to have!” Jenna praised. She dumped two more outfits onto my lap. “Now go try these on.”
Three months ago, everything I knew, everything I was, and everything surrounding me, changed. Today I was Jade—at least on the outside.
I faced my reflection in the mirror. My hair was dyed platinum blond and was super long and straight, thanks to extensions. Not excluding the hair, my painted burgundy lips, plucked and tinted eyebrows, fake eyelashes, bronzed cheekbones, and smoky eyes made me unrecognizable. I guess that was the point, besides making me look dark. I don’t even think my mom would recognize me if I walked right past her on the street. She would most certainly have a heart attack if she saw what I was wearing. I put my hands on my hips and posed in my long black suede boots, stockings, shorts, and scarlet blouse. I think the outfits were the hardest for me to get accustomed to. The heels were too pointy or too high and difficult to walk in. It took me almost a full straight week before I could walk without tripping in them.
Jenna knocked on the bathroom door.
I stepped out and strutted past her in my D Glow garb.
“Oh, yes, great look,” she nodded approvingly. “Did you try on the leggings and tunic yet?” I shook my head. “Well, get back in there and try them on and take this with you.” She shoved a crystal glass filled with champagne in my hand.
“Cheers!” She smiled and took a sip of a mimosa. I raised my glass and took a sip. Drinking and learning how to smoke a cigarette were all part of my training. I didn’t care much for the hard alcohol, but champagne was all right. It was actually starting to grow on me. As for smoking, well, it was a coughing work in progress. I walked back out into the room three minutes later in my dark-gray leggings and deep-purple tunic.
Jenna took a step back to admire her work. “Yes!” She clapped. She picked up a refilled mimosa glass and held it up to toast, then looked at my empty hand disapprovingly.
“Where's your drink, Jade?” she reprimanded, sounding slightly agitated.
I clomped back into the bathroom to retrieve my glass from the bathroom sink where I had left it.
“You need to build your tolerance,” Jenna chastised when I returned with my glass of champagne, which was still more than half full. She raised her glass again, and I obliged by taking a large gulp. Jenna set her drink on top of the dresser and started to rummage through a black-lacquered jewelry box for accessories.
I flopped down on the bed and took another sip of the champagne. Then it hit me.
“Jenna?” I asked softly.
“Hmm?” she mumbled as she wrestled with two tangled necklaces.
“D Glows can eat and drink anything and not gain an ounce. Do you think going to the gym three times a week is really going to be enough to keep the weight off?”
“Didn’t they cover this in your protocol class?” Jenna turned impatiently. She was still struggling to free the necklace she wanted from the grasp of another black-and-gold onyx chain.
“A little,” I shrugged, clutching the crystal champagne flute. I was encouraged to have dessert after dinner, as well as some type of alcohol and eat more carbs, such as pizza and french fries.
“Stop questioning and doubting. There's a pill for everything,” she affirmed flatly, returning to the necklace debacle. “The diet pills they give us have special ingredients to help us eat like D Glows.”
“Not without consequences,” I said under my breath. I knew as a nutritionist that diet pills, no matter how advanced and “Light Bureau special” they were, could not be good for the body.
“Do you think I’m ready?” I asked wistfully.
Jenna triumphantly pulled the necklaces apart and turned to stare me down.
“I do, but you must stay in character—it is a matter of life or death. I mean it.” Her face was serious. She sighed and sat down on the bed next to me. “Stick to your training and you will be fine.”
“OK,” I said, feigning a smile.
“You have no choice anyway,” Jenna said, standing up. “You start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked, trying to look and sound calm.
Jenna glared at me, her D Glow training coming through. “If I see you out of character one more time today, I will slap you across the face,” she warned. I could tell she wasn’t joking.
I drank the rest of my champagne, got up, and stood only about one foot in front of Jenna's face. “Just try it,” I snapped.
“Better,” Jenna said flatly. “Now grab some flats and let's head to the shooting range.”
“In this?” I asked, pointing to my silk tunic.
“In that,” she nodded, and left the room.