If I can do it, so can Crystal. And vice versa. We’re gonna girl-power our way to the end of this day. I can see in her face that she knows she doesn’t have a choice, and as she looks back at me through the mirror, she can see that I don’t have one either.
“Crystal, I don’t know how I screwed up before. I’m so sorry for Kobra. I never should have set you up with him. I don’t know how that happened. But I learned from that mistake. Jules is a good guy. Really.”
She sags over the sink. “I’m just so fucking tired of working doubles, taking care of kids, being late on bills.” She looks up through her false eyelashes. I notice for the first time that they have little crystals on them. “You’re paying me this time, right?”
Am I? I don’t have a clue. “What was our arrangement?”
“You’re supposed to pay me five grand for each date but you haven’t been delivering those checks lately. And I’m sick of trying to impress millionaires. They don’t like me, and I don’t like them.”
Damn it.
“I can’t trick them into thinking I’m something that I’m not. I know that’s what we talked about, but it’s not working. I’m just me. That’s all I can be.”
What is this, an after-school special? “We’re adults, Crystal. We can be anything we want. That’s what makeup is for. And filters. And lying on resumes. And online degrees. It’s 2020. We can all be anything we want to be.”
She hardens a little at my we’re adults comment, so I take a deep breath. “Crystal,” I say her name like a teacher trying to reach out to that one student with all the potential who won’t listen. “It’s so easy. All you have to do is try a tiny bit harder. Put on a classy dress, stand up straight, and let them know that you deserve everything.” I gesture to the dirty Walmart bathroom, the wet floor with paper towels stuck to it, the overflowing trash can. “Look, I don’t know much, but I know you deserve more than this. Convince them that you can be one of them, that you are one of them. Don’t give up.”
A beat or two later, Crystal takes a deep breath. “You gotta pay me, though.”
I nod. “I promise that I’ll pay you. We just have to make it through tonight.”
When she exhales, I’m pretty sure she’s done fighting me and I say, “Let me just get you a new dress. If you’re going out with a millionaire, you’ve gotta look like a million bucks.” I brighten a little. Everyone loves a makeover. Crystal should be psyched about this.47
We head over to the women’s clothing section. Our cart barely fits between the rows of clothes, and the hangers scrape the metal rack as I flip through medium-size sundresses.
I text Max. Where are you? Can I borrow your credit card? If she’s going to Mr. Chow’s, a new dress isn’t optional.
He texts: You don’t have any money, do you?
I do, but…Can I just borrow money one more time? $100 would do it. $50 even.
Last time.
“Ooh, what do you think about this one?” It’s body-con and bright pink. It’d be a show-stopper, at least until it shrinks in the wash and fades. Walmart clothes are basically one-use items, according to NPR, which apparently I listen to when I’m not shoplifting.
“Is he dressing up for me?” she asks.
“Of course he is.” At least he will be wearing his very best underwear. “You know who he is, right?” I ask.
“I was joking,” she says.
I pull up Jules’s Instagram. I see that he’s already posting about the date and hashtagging GoldRush. I feel like I’m careening past the pit of total failure on two wheels, burning rubber and trying to make a full turnaround.
“He posted a few stories about his date prep.” I show her a video of Jules deciding between a pair of purple underwear and green underwear, captioned Hot date tonight on the West Coast. #GoldRush. “How cute is that?”
She leans back and folds her arms over her chest. “For real?”
I don’t show her the next post. Jules is mugging for the camera making the only face he knows how to make: sexy. It’s captioned, Can’t wait to meet my angel. She plays the harp.
Crystal still doesn’t look excited but she agrees to try on a simple, classy sundress and some strappy sandals that will look nice the first couple of times she wears them, until the shiny fake patent leather peels off. I fill the cart with anything I can imagine someone wearing on the red carpet—jewelry that isn’t emoji-based, sexy heels, a few more dresses.
“Just change into whatever you want to wear and we’ll pay on the way out.” My whole life is riding on this date. I will buy any crap that gives this date a fighting chance. Well, Max will.
I don’t ask if she has an employee discount. It might give away the fact that I don’t have $5,000 to pay her. Not that I’m going to stiff her, but no one is getting paid until I have some money.
While she’s changing, Jules posts again. This time it’s a screenshot of him making a duck face and a snap of Crystal that I must have sent him. It’s Crystal when she’s not at Walmart, and she looks pretty damn good. She’s all pouty lips, smoky eyes, and a little black dress.
Crystal walks out of the dressing room looking 100 percent more like her picture. She’s a total knockout, like Walmart should definitely hire her to do all of their ads immediately. That’s when I know I’m a genius. Jules would be fucking lucky to go out with this woman. “Can I snap a pic of you?” I ask. Time to start hyping up the date from my end. I mean, that’s what this is all about, right?
I post a photo and tag Jules.
“I don’t know. I don’t like this dress,” she says.
“It looks awesome.”
“I just feel weird. Kai has a cold. I’m supposed to work at the club tomorrow. What the fuck am I even doing?”
“You can do this, Crystal.”
From the look she gives me, I know that all of her thoughts have coalesced. Her inarticulate feelings of despair and apathy have hardened into some kind of resolve. Dear God, please make Crystal go on this date. Sorry if I’ve been a bitch my whole life. Sorry about Kobra. But please! I NEED THIS.
Crystal gives me a weird look. “Have you ever asked yourself why you’re doing this, Mia?”
I give her a panic-stricken look. I’m losing her. What am I going to do? While I watch her walk back to the dressing room, JP texts me.
When are you gonna be home? I miss you!
Miss you too! Home soon.
K. I’ll wait up.
Maybe don’t.