"Chockies and flowers?" Dianne echoed. "Do you mean—"

Gillian twisted her mouth to the side in a slightly crooked smile. "I'm afraid that Roger might be falling for our Bel."

---

 

3. Being, um, Decisive!
 

"This is the second time today that I've been blindsided," Gillian said. "Let me be perfectly clear: if any of you have contact with a client, I need to know about it."

I swallowed hard. "It wasn't anything," I said lamely. "He gave me a ride to the cleaners. I tried to refuse."

"Mmm," Gillian said. "Yes, Roger mentioned it... Did you really tell him that you were going in the opposite direction?"

"Yes."

"Before you knew which way he was driving?"

Paul couldn't help it: he burst out laughing, but quickly got a grip and stifled it. I didn't answer.

Gillian said, "Tell me what happened. Tell me everything. Don't leave anything out. We've got to figure how we're going to handle this — how we're going to sort things out."

Dianne cut in, "Excuse me, Gil, but when you say 'sort things out', do you mean—"

"I mean that we need to put a lid on this Bel business. We need to cut it off before Roger starts sending chockies and flowers."

"Chockies and flowers?" Dianne echoed. "Do you mean—"

Gillian twisted her mouth to the side in a slightly crooked smile. "I'm afraid that Roger might be falling for our Bel."

"No!" I said. "He can't! Isn't he married? Was he wearing a ring?"

"He didn't have a ring," Paul said, "but not all men wear one."

"It doesn't make any difference," Gillian pointed out. "Bill, start talking."

"Can I tell you privately?" I asked.

Dianne gave a snort that said not a chance! and Paul gave a look that said I'm not going anywhere!

I started with my call to the cleaners, and finished with Roger's telling me that he didn't bite.

"He told you that he doesn't bite?" Gillian asked, as if that was significant.

"No... yes," I said. "He said he doesn't bite."

Dianne drew a long breath and said, "Oh, dear me!" with an amused smirk.

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," Gillian said to her. Dianne's smirk quickly disappeared as she rolled her lips inward even as her eyes gave her thoughts away.

"I don't understand," I said. "How does this change anything?"

"I think," Cathy put in, "that Roger sees Bel's shyness as a challenge."

"Right," Gillian agreed.

Paul looked at the table. "It can be a turn-on," he said, with the air of an expert, nodding gently.

I felt my heart racing. In a panic, I said, "I could cut my hair!" as if that would somehow solve it.

No one laughed. Silence fell on our little group. At last Gillian spoke. "This is what I'm going to do. I'm going to Roger's office right now, and I'm going to tell him face to face what's happened. Bill, you'll probably have to skip the dinner tonight, to spare Roger his blushes.

"And — worst case — if we lose the account, I'll have to rescind your raise."

She left the room, but the four of us remained.

"Pity Roger's not gay," Paul commented. "He's not bad looking, if you like that solid, country gentleman type."

"Why can't a dishy client ever fall for me?" Cath complained.

"Yes, our Bel has all the luck," Dianne teased.

I shook my head. "If only I'd stayed in bed today, none of this would have happened. I'm such a idiot! And to be taken for a girl — twice!"

"It could be worse," Dianne said, giving me a playful poke. "At least you were taken for a *pretty* girl!"

Gillian stuck her head in the door. "Bill, why don't you come with me? I doubt that you'll be getting any work done this afternoon." She gave a meaningful look to the others. "I might want to produce you as evidence."

I stood up and followed her to the elevator. We rode down in silence and climbed into her silver C300. After I'd buckled myself in and Gillian began driving north, I suddenly realized that I was still wearing Rita's track suit!

"Gillian," I said, "I only just realized how I'm dressed! Can we go back so I can change?"

She glanced at me with the trace of a smile. "I don't think it matters," she said. "I doubt that you'll see Roger, in any case. And seeing you like this helps me understand the mistake he made. I'm still trying to think of what to say... how to put it." She smiled. "You're a copywriter: see if you can come up with something."

Unfortunately, I drew a blank. So I told Gillian, "I really appreciate your doing this. I understand what it costs you... what it might cost the business."

"Yes," she said, keeping her eyes on the road. "This is what happens when you're in charge: you have to take responsibility, step into the muck, and give your best. Shoulder to the wheel, set the mix, make the bloody decisions!" She sighed as her little burst of clichés and homilies petered out.

She took a left turn and told me, "I think we can save this. I have to believe we can."

"What are you going to tell him?" I asked.

"The truth," she replied. "As briefly as possible." She pressed her lips together. "I'm trying to find something in it that could possibly make him laugh."

"Maybe we just tell him the whole story... there is the part where my coffee was saved," I offered. Gillian nodded. "And how my shoes disappeared." Gillian shrugged. "And when Paul said I was a powder-blue person."

I went on, wracking my brain for anything that could be the slightest bit funny in what happened that morning. Gillian simply listened. She chuckled when I mentioned Rita's blouse "flapping" the other way, and the tassels on my shoes.

Then she said, "I doubt I'll say all of that... or maybe any of it, but it's always good to have more cards in hand than you really need to play."

Then I understood something: Gillian had been giving me tips all day long about how to be a boss; about what it meant to be in charge. She was trying to help me understand what I needed to do if I wanted a promotion. I had to be responsible, "step into the muck," and give my best. Make a decision even if it was hard and might cost me in some way.

"How much farther is Roger's office?" I asked.

"Another fifteen minutes," she replied.

I bit my lower lip. "Gillian, you said something about understanding the mistake Roger made. Do I really look like a girl?"

Her face relaxed, and she gave me her first genuine smile of the day. "I hate to undermine your male ego," she said, "but when I first interviewed you, I thought you were the girl candidate."

"Oh," I said in a small voice.

"There are still times now, when I'm walking through the office, and my first thought is there's that girl again!"

"Oh," I repeated, sinking into the seat.

Her smile twitched slightly. "Don't worry, Bill. A lot of women like pretty boys like you."

"Uh, thanks," I said. "But that wasn't why I was asking. I was thinking... you were talking about stepping into the muck, and all that..."

"Oh, dear," she said. She saw where I was going.

I cleared my throat. "So, I decided —" See, Gillian? I CAN be decisive! "— I decided that I'll go to the dinner as Bel. That way, everything can simply go forward. And I can, um, I can dress in a more feminine... I mean, a feminine way until the ad campaign is over, in case Roger stops by."

Gillian didn't say anything. She simply lifted her eyes, took a good look in the rear-view, and pulled a U-turn across a unbroken white line.
 

---

 

"Right!" Dianne said, as we gathered in the meeting room. "We've got it sorted, I think. For the hair, she's got an appointment at Mag's in twenty. For the dress, I've got a nice black silk number with long sleeves. It's too tight in the top, so I can't wear it, but it'll do for our Bel.

"Shoes: Carole had a pair of black pumps under her desk that'll work quite nicely and she's volunteered to do Bel's face and nails."

Cath picked up at that point, "I'll walk Bel down to Mag's right now, and on the way back we can pick up stockings and make-up." Her eyes ran over my face in a clinical way. "It should be easy. His coloring's like Carole's."

"Then save some time and ask Carole what she uses," Gillian told her. "You two ought to bounce, right now."

As Cath and I stood, Gillian said jokingly to Paul, "Sorry you couldn't contribute, Paul. It's not really your area."

Paul gave a small smirk and said, "But I *can* contribute, and I shall. There's something quite obvious you've all forgotten."

Dianne's eyebrow went up. "What?"

"Breasts."

I froze.

"Well," Dianne quipped, "I guess we could cut a tennis ball in two." I blushed as the others laughed. "Seriously though, Bel can't go from flat to full-chested in a day."

"No, but she should have something," he countered, "so I looked around the internet a bit, and then I made these." He picked up a carrier bag from the floor, and from it produced two small plastic bags filled with a milky substance.

Gillian and Dianne each picked up one. "Ooh! What's in it?" Dianne asked.

"Goo. It's made of borax and glue. It's thick enough to jiggle and to feel like the real thing."

Gillian dropped the one she was holding on the table. "I don't think anyone's going to be feeling Bel's breasts."

"No," Paul said, smiling, "it's just a small thing — two small things — to help the illusion along."

"Darn!" Dianne said, as she continued to play with the sack of goo. "Now she'll need a bra! I'll see if I've got one small enough!"
 

---

 

I expected to things to take longer at the salon, but we were in and out in twenty minutes. But in those twenty minutes, I was transformed!

A girl named Tara with striking makeup, short black hair and a ring through her eyebrow, stood behind me, playing with my hair, looking at my face in the mirror. "D'ya know what I think?" she exclaimed. "I can't get it out of my head now — I've got to do it! Hang on!" she said, and ran off toward the front of the shop.

She returned a moment later. "Here it is!" she exclaimed. "Have you seen this?" and she held the latest issue of Australian Vogue against her chest, displaying a striking blue-eyed blonde to Cath and me.

"Well, what?" I asked, not getting it.

"Can you do that?" Cath asked, eyes wide.

"With Bel's fine hair and baby blues, I think I can get pretty close," she said.

"Who's that girl?" I asked.

"Our own Abbey Lee," Tara replied. To my blank look, she added, "Abbey Lee Kershaw, top model? I admit, this isn't her usual look."

"And do *I* look like that?" I asked, naive as you like, at once astonished, dismayed, and pleased.

Tara opened her eyes wide and held her mouth in an oh! for a moment before replying. "Oh, yes, love! In fact, when you walked in, I thought you were her! Really! You look just like her — IN YOUR DREAMS!" Then she set to cackling and Cath broke up in laughter.

My face was a fine shade of red when Tara stepped up behind me and smiled at my face in the mirror. "Not to worry, Bel. You're lovely in your very own way!" She suppressed a smirk and said, "But I'm going to make you beautiful now — you're going to fall in love with yourself when you see it!"

Tara pursed her lips and thought a moment as she turned my head this way and that. "How do you feel about colour, Bel?"

"I like colour," I replied, not sure what she meant.

"No," Cath interjected. "We don't have time. She means colouring your hair, Bel."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid. "No, then."

"Suit yourself," Tara commented, and set to spraying and snipping and pinning up pieces of my hair.

"Don't cut the length," I said. Tara snorted in reply, as if I'd said something funny.
 

Since my hair was limp and wet, it was hard to tell what she was doing, although it was alarming to see how much hair was falling around me. At last, armed with a brush in one hand and a hairdrier in the other, she said, "Pay close attention, Bel, 'cause this is what you'll have to do each day!"

I watched as closely as possible, as she twirled the round brush in and under and around, doing my best to fix it in my mind. The problem was, it seemed like the wrong way to go about it and I was pretty sure I'd stuff it up if I tried and end up in a tangle, but in the end I had, for the first time in my life, a look.

"It's amazing," I said, awed at the transformation.

"It's beautiful," Cath said.

"It's too bad you wouldn't let me do the colour," Tara commented, "that would have really capped it." After a few more oohs and ahhs from other clients and stylists, I was finally allowed out of the chair.

"You might pick up that copy of Vogue on the way home," Tara told me, "so you know what you're aiming at." The twinkle in her eye told me she was thinking of my earlier gaff.
 

When we left the salon, two men collided and a moment later a third nearly walked into a lightpost.

"Ach!" Cathy muttered. "Flat as a rail, and still you're causing accidents! I guess men go for the skinny girls, I don't know!" She grabbed my arm and steered me into a chemists. "Let's duck in here a moment, Bel. We've still got our shopping list."

We quickly gathered the cosmetics on the list Carole gave us, along with two pair of stockings.

"Oh," Cath asked suddenly, "do you have a hairdrier?" and added one to our pile, along with a brush.

After I paid, as we walked to the door, I commented, "There goes my raise for the next three weeks!"

"Oh, poor you!" Cathy countered, "what do you think we girls have to do?" Then she gave me a look and clicked her tongue. "That's another thing, isn't it."

"What?"

"Your ears! You need earrings, but your ears aren't pierced." She frowned. "And we're running out of time. We've got to get back."

We did a quick stop at the newsagent next door for a copy of Vogue, as Tara suggested.
 

Dianne was waiting for us at Carole's reception desk.

"Well, look at you!" Carole exclaimed.

Dianne's eyebrow nearly rode straight off her head. "Yes, look at you! You're lovely, Bel! You'd be the belle of the ball, wouldn't you."

Wouldn't I? I silently echoed. What's she on about?

"So lovely, but all for naught."

"Why?" I asked.

"Oh, love, it's a pity, but Roger's found out you're a boy."

"What!?" Cath cried.

My mouth fell open. I swallowed hard, and looked from Dianne's sympathetic pout to Carole's doe-eyed frown.

After stammering a bit, I finally managed to say, "Then what will I do with this hair!?"

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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Thanks to Kristina LS for her help and feedback.