Bellarosa Boutique was busier than ever in the weeks leading up to the Back-to-School Fashion Show. This was the mall’s biggest event of the summer and a very lucrative day for the store. I thought Bellarosa’s participation was kind of ridiculous, though. The boutique was a popular destination for homecoming dresses and prom gowns, but Drea was the only girl at Pineville High who’d actually worn its clothes to school. That she was voted Best Dressed in a landslide only reinforced how Bellarosa’s aesthetic was far more aspirational than practical.
Running the Back-to-School Fashion Show was a huge deal. Gia had to find models who’d walk the runway for free—mostly from the deep pool of Bellarosa cousins, but still, a time-consuming job—pull, style, and make alterations to their looks; choose the music; massage egos (“I’m not trying to make you look uglier than your sister, so put on those jodhpurs and shut your gawddamn mouth!”); and do it all in six-inch stilettos. While Gia focused on these logistics, Drea covered the appointment-only fittings and pop-in business from regulars. As hectic as it got, I never imagined I’d be of any use outside the back office until Gia commanded me to action.
“Cassie! I need you on the floor right now!”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you,” Gia said, taking me by the arm. “By special request.”
“Special request? Who would special request me? I’m not even a salesgirl.”
“This gentleman thinks you are,” Gia replied, dragging me away from the computer.
From the tiniest seed of desire, hope half bloomed in my heart. Sam Goody?
“Cassandra!”
All hope shriveled in my chest. I was humiliated by my own imagination.
“Frank.”
My father was wearing his typical off-duty attire: plaid shorts and a golf shirt with an embroidered tooth where a Polo pony would normally be. I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. What was he doing here?
“Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” I asked.
“My eleven o’clock canceled,” he said. “Which gave me the perfect opportunity to slip out to go shopping.”
Oh, no no no. I was not getting involved with building another parent’s post-divorce wardrobe. No way would I help him select a blazer for Singles’ Night at Oceanside Tavern. Frank was on his own for this one.
“I recommend Chess King, conveniently located right across the Concourse,” I said. “Or there’s always the International Male Catalog…”
Frank chuckled.
“I’m not here for me, kiddo.” He knuckled my scalp. “I want to get something for your mother.”
“For Mom?! Why?”
Honestly, if he were here to get sized for a leather Speedo, I would’ve been less shocked.
“Well, she was just saying the other day how much she liked Bellarosa’s selection and service,” he said. “And you get a ten-percent commission on everything you sell, right? So I’d be helping you out too…”
I cut him off before he could continue.
“First of all, I’m not a salesgirl, I manage the books,” I explained. “Second of all, you and Mom are getting a divorce.”
“So?”
“So? You shouldn’t be buying her gifts!”
Frank sighed.
“It’s her birthday.”
I hadn’t spoken to Kathy much lately either. We still lived together, but I’d done a bang-up job at avoiding her too—the result of all the practice I’d gotten at the mall this summer. So I’d not only forgotten it was her birthday, but adeptly dodged any hints she might have dropped to remind me. How old was she … forty-three? Forty-four?
“She’s forty-five years young,” Dad answered without me having to ask.
“So what if it’s her birthday? If you still care enough to remember her birthday, you shouldn’t have moved out.”
I knew I sounded like a brat.
And I absolutely did not care.
“It’s not that simple, Cassandra,” Frank said. “We’ve known each other for twenty-five years. I’m never going to forget that August eighth is your mother’s birthday.”
That struck me as simultaneously romantic and tragic.
“We’re ending our marriage, but she’s still a part of my life,” he said. “And remember, I still work with her every day…”
“Which is also not normal!”
I knew better to even attempt keeping my job at America’s Best Cookie after Troy and I split up. Then again, I could only assume my mom wasn’t dry humping any of the dental assistants right in front of my dad. Or vice versa.
Drea emerged from the fitting rooms.
“Oh hi, Dr. Worthy.” Drea flashed her biggest smile. “Is everything okay here?”
“Drea! I am so pleased to see that you’ve obviously maintained an optimal dental care routine!”
“I floss after every meal,” she boasted. “And brush for a minimum of thirty seconds in each quadrant.”
“Good girl!” Frank clapped her on the back. “You might want to consider an upgrade to our new line of malleable fixed retainers…”
Even Drea had to respect my dad’s hustle—one salesperson to another.
“What can we help you with, Dr. Worthy?” Drea asked.
“Frank wants to buy a gift for my mom.”
Drea’s eyes widened. “Are you two getting back together?”
“Oh no,” I answered before Frank could. “They’re still getting a divorce. My dad is here to buy my mom a slutty outfit for Singles’ Nights at Oceanside Tavern, you know, when she’s on the prowl for her next husband.”
Drea and Frank gawked at me, mouths agape.
“It sounds messed up,” I said. “Because it is.”
I announced I was taking a mental health break. Let Drea earn another 10 percent. If anyone was going to come out a winner from my parents’ dysfunctional relationship, it might as well be her.