The Makeover

  The Makeover by Thayer King

  Copyright © 2016 Thayer King

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  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Gregory mopped the sweat from his brow and turned the AC in his BMW up to the highest setting. It was as hot as hell outside and the interior of his car was even worse. He popped open his glove compartment and found his stash of antacids. Two orange tablets clunked around at the bottom of the plastic container. Greg upended the bottle into his mouth.

  He chewed methodically and dropped his head onto his steering wheel. Climbing into his car and enjoying the quiet ride home was the best part of his day. How had his life come to this? The answer was at once simple and complex: Daria.

  She was his dream girl, five feet and seven inches of long legged blonde heaven. They’d met in high school. She was a cheerleader dating the head quarterback Steve Matthews, and he’d been…well, just the average student trying to survive the four years until graduation. He’d never stood a chance of gaining her notice. Oh, but she’d had his attention. He’d loved the way she’d nibble her lip when she was concentrating on a problem in algebra class. He used to race to his locker in the morning just so he could be there when she sashayed by on her way to English. He’d had her schedule memorized so he knew when he had the best chances of catching a glimpse of her. He’d attended all the school’s home games simply to watch her in action. He could have cared less about sports.

  When he graduated, his largest regret was that he’d never gathered up the courage to speak to her. After college, he’d become a pro gamer and even created a couple of moderately successful games. Life was great. His time was his own and his job didn’t feel like work. It was fun.

  Two years ago when he’d come home to Greenville, North Carolina to visit his mother, he’d run into Daria at the mall. In high school, they’d been the same height and she probably would have walked around him without comment even if he were on fire. But what a difference eight years could make. He’d spotted her at a cosmetics counter and couldn’t resist saying hello. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Eight years of regrets was damn well enough! She’d given him an uncertain greeting and a shy flirtatious smile. She’d been unable to recall him from high school, but that was fine by him. She was definitely interested now. He had her by seven inches and she was a free agent. Steve had moved on when he got a college scholarship. Daria didn’t bother to hide her joy when she said it was actually a blessing in disguise. In his first outing as a pro, Steve had blown out his knee and was sidelined for life.

  After a few dinner dates, Greg was smitten. She had him wrapped around her pinky finger and he loved every moment of it. He moved back home. Little by little, Daria had moved her belongings into his home until he’d finally asked her to move in to make it official. That they would take that final step and get engaged was inevitable. He planned to propose to her on her next birthday. This year, her birthday would fall on Thanksgiving.

  Being with her was an achievement for him. It made him feel good. He’d do just about anything to make her happy. But damn, sometimes was that difficult! Daria always wanted more. The first thing to go was his dream job. She couldn’t sleep, she said, knowing that her future relied upon whether or not he could shoot up more digital creatures than the next geek. To ensure that he wouldn’t fall back into that lifestyle, she’d pawned all of his gaming systems. She’d done it while he was out visiting his mother. It was their first big dust up. She’d claimed it was for their future. He’d given in when she started crying, claiming that he didn’t love her enough. Supposedly, the money from the systems had gone into buying fine china for the house. Just how much did tea cups cost anyway?

  That was nine months ago. Nine months of working as a used car salesman for Daria’s asshole cousin Dirk. Dirk never failed to point out how he kept him employed only as a favor to Daria. If it weren’t for Daria, he would have been fired months ago. Greg almost wished he would fire him. He was a horrible salesman, and damn, but he hated this job. He just couldn’t go in for the kill and convince some unsuspecting person to overpay for a hunk of junk that would probably end up in a garage within weeks after they drove it off the lot. But the other salesmen could and they had the commissions to prove it.

  Greg sat up. He saw Dirk coming out of the glass building to look around the lot. Greg hurriedly put his car in reverse before Dirk saw him and came over to make some sort of snide comment.

  Instead of going directly home, he drove around a bit. Traffic was heavy, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t in any hurry. Daria had gotten on a health kick and had turned vegan on him. In the South, that was just downright unnatural. He probably could have put up with it if it weren’t for two things. One, Daria couldn’t cook and he’d be living off salads if he didn’t sneak in fast food on the way home. And he had the developing tire around his belly as evidence of it. The second reason was that the cause of her new diet was the personal trainer at her gym – a personal trainer that was paid for by his meager salary.

  With that thought in mind, he pulled into a MacDonald’s drive thru and ordered a double quarter pounder, large fries and a large vanilla milkshake. He parked in the parking lot and ate it quickly. He disposed of the evidence in one of the large trash cans outside of the restaurant before heading home.

  His house was in a nice neighborhood. All the homes were fairly new. His house was a two-story home with cream colored brick and white trim. He almost missed it since there was a large white truck parked in his driveway. Frowning, he drove into his garage. “Damn it,” he muttered. “If she’s redecorating again…” She was blowing through money faster than he could make it. The house and his car were paid for from his earnings when he was a gamer. He could no longer afford to indulge his little fashionista.

  When he entered the kitchen, he could hear noise in the distance. “Daria!” Luggage and boxes were piled by the front door. “What’s going on here?” Feet thundered down the stairs. He turned to see Daria and her trainer Gary with more boxes. “Are you redoing the guestroom?” Painting was another hobby she had taken up. Not portraits or art. No, Daria liked to paint walls. He kept telling her that it wasn’t an accent wall if every wall in the room was a different color. But his opinion was low on her list of priorities. The last time he’d objected to one of her styling choices, she’d given him a pitying look and pointed out that she was the fashionable one in their relationship. Then she’d kissed him and proceeded to do what she wanted to do.

  Daria put the box she held on top of the one Gary held. “Could you put this in the truck? I’ll be right out.”

  Gary glanced from him to her. “Are you sure?”

  “Go.” Daria nudged Gary along with a pat to his bicep. The guy was built like a Mack Truck, all veiny bulging muscles. A tank top and shorts that showed off his bodybuilder physique were his usual attire. Today was no different. No way this guy was vegan. Those arms and legs weren’t made by tofu and lettuce. No, that shit took protein.

  Greg waited until Gary was out the door before turning back to Daria. “So, Dare, what is all this stuff?”

  “Greg, we need to talk.”

  He sighed, wondering how much this talk was going to cost him. What could she want now? He followed her into the den and took a seat beside her on the sofa. She took his hand in hers, her big blue eyes sad. Whenever she gave him that look, he was a goner. He’d agree to whatever she wanted.

  “This isn’t working for me. I’m moving out.”


  He blinked. His heart constricted. If she hadn’t given him a blow job this morning, he’d be worried she was breaking up with him. Certain that he was somehow misreading the situation, he asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I’m leaving you, Greg. We just don’t mesh anymore.”

  “Mesh,” he echoed, his eyes darting around the room to take in his den. It was decorated in white and cream with large pitchers of flowers in the corners by the windows. The photos of her family had been removed from the walls and the fireplace mantel. He shook his head. “This morning you sucked me so hard, my eyes crossed. And last night-”

  Sighing, she withdrew her hand from his. “This isn’t about sex. I won’t lie, you’re phenomenal in bed, but outside of it…” She stood. “Look around you, Greg. You’ve got no ambition, no drive. I can’t be with someone who is satisfied with living like this.”

  He stared at his two story arched windows, the cream leather sofas, and the hardwood floors. Yeah, aside from the accent walls, he was satisfied. He moved to stand at her side. “Daria, you don’t mean this.” He gripped her upper arms. “I love you. Let’s go out to dinner and we can talk about this further.”

  Daria shrugged his hands off. “I’ve been thinking about this for months. I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “Daria, don’t do this.” He couldn’t let her go. She was his dream girl. Yes, they had their issues, but they could work through them. At that moment, all he could think of was how she was the only thing he had left. He pulled her to him with the intention of kissing her, but she twisted out of his hold.

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Look, Greg, some guys are just losers. I thought you’d changed since high school. I was wrong. You don’t ever want to be one of the big boys.” She glared at his shirt. He followed her gaze. He’d dropped a pickle on his shirt and it’d left a mustard stain. She placed her hands on her slim hips. “And you’re getting chubby. I know you’ve been sneaking out for food.”

  He ignored that comment. He ran both of his hands through his hair, stopping at the top of his skull to pull on the strands there as though it would give him ideas. “What do you want from me? I’ll do anything,” he offered desperately. “I’ll stick to the vegan diet. I’ll do better at work. Please, Daria. I love you.”

  She gave him that pitying look and shook her head. “I wish you the best, Greg.” She stooped to pick up her belongings by the door and then she walked out. He kept expecting her to come back. He was too stunned to move. Then the truck started up. He raced out onto the porch, but he couldn’t think of what to do or what to say to make her stay. His chin dropped to his chest in defeat.

  “I’m sorry to say we’re going to have to let you go,” Dirk said, but his smirk belied his words. “You can stay on until the end of the month, but after that…” He leaned back in his office chair, rocking back and forth. He folded his hands over his stomach. Dirk’s hair was thick and blonde like Daria’s. His eyes were the same shade of blue. “I think we all saw this coming. If it weren’t for Daria, I would have fired you months ago.”

  Greg pressed his lips together, declining to speak. His throat was tight with anger. If he spoke, he’d spill out so much vitriol, he’d burn down this building. He fucking hated this job, but right now, it was his main source of income. Besides, what could he say? Dirk was only speaking the truth. Without Daria, he never would have been given this job. Dirk had given him a salary independent of how many cars he sold and the hours he’d requested so that he could be home with Daria each day by six. But the way Dirk lorded it over him, never letting him forget the favor, made it difficult for him to be grateful.

  “You suck as a salesman, Greg. And judging from your personal life, you suck as a boyfriend, too. I was kind of hoping the two of you would make it.”

  He found that doubtful, but he ground his teeth together to keep quiet. What he wanted, was to quit right this second. But he’d ride out the month.

  He hadn’t slept last night. Instead he’d had a beer for dinner and sat staring at the front door, hoping against hope that she would return. At six a.m., he’d showered and gotten ready for work. The moment he drove onto the lot one of the other salesmen had informed him that Dirk wanted to talk to him in his office.

  Finally, Dirk sighed. “Get back out there and do the best you can. Maybe if you turn your numbers around, I can convince my dad to keep you on. But, dude, she’s only been gone one day and you look like shit. You’re not going to sell any cars with red rimmed eyes.”

  “Yeah.” He stood. He ducked into a bathroom and looked at his reflection. Dirk was right. He looked like shit and the likelihood of him selling a car today was nil. He splashed water on his face and held cool water to his eyes. “Damn it,” he muttered. His head hurt and he was tired and stiff. It was going to be a long day.

  On the way home from work, Greg drove past his favorite fast food restaurants with determination. But when he checked his kitchen, he could find little to eat. He ended up with a salad and some nuts. Afterward, he called Daria. He was trying and he wanted her to know. But she didn’t sound impressed. In the background, he could hear a man talking on the television. He thought that was odd because he’d assumed she’d gone to her parent’s house and her parents almost never turned their television on. They always complained that there was never anything on but sex and violence.

  He was still pondering it when his doorbell rang. Opening the door, he recognized the willowy redhead as a friend of Daria’s, but he couldn’t recall her name. “Hello. I’m sorry. Daria’s…not at home.”

  “Oh, I know she moved out. Can I come in?” Without waiting for him to answer, she was already brushing past him. “Daria borrowed some china of mine and I’d like to have it back since she’s not coming back here.”

  Greg buried the hurt those words brought him and tried to focus on the moment. “China?” He didn’t know what she was talking about, but she was on her way to the kitchen. He followed and watched as she searched his cabinets.

  “Yeah. She said she was borrowing it for some special occasion, but that was months-” She broke off as she opened another door. “Ah, ha! Here it is.” She started pulling down plates and cups. “I’ve got a box in my car.”

  “Wait,” Greg said, coming over to examine the delicate white cups with their gold trim. “Dare, bought these at an estate sale.” With the money she’d gotten for his gaming systems. Of course, Greg had been pissed. What the hell were they supposed to do with fancy plates and cups? She didn’t even cook. But Daria had been so delighted, saying that she was buying things to enrich their home. Then she’d kissed him so sweetly that he hadn’t been able to remain angry with her. The kisses had soon led to sex and well, he’d been too mellow after that to argue.

  “Um, no. I inherited these from my grandmother.”

  Greg plunged his hands into his hair as he thought it over. He supposed it was possible. Daria had also come home with some designer new shoes about that same time. “C-could you hold on for a second? Let me check with her.” He went into the den where he’d placed his cell on the coffee table.

  Daria answered on the first ring. “What do you want now?”

  He ignored her irritated tone. “Did you borrow china from some girl with red hair?”

  “Meg. Yeah, just let her take it. You won’t use it anyway.”

  “You told me that you brought that china at an estate sale.”

  “You obviously misheard me. You never listen.”

  Greg frowned. Occasionally he did space out when she was talking. “Daria-” He broke off as he heard Daria speaking to someone over the phone. Her voice was muffled as though she had her hand over the receiver. Meg exited the house and came back with a box.

  “Look, Greg, I’ve got to go.”

  “What’s going on? Is everything, okay?”

  “No, everything is not okay. It’s not okay for you to keep calling me. Mo
ve on with your life. I have.” Then she hung up on him.

  He’d called her a sum total of twice. What did she mean she’d moved on? She’d moved on since fucking yesterday? He put the phone down and went to watch Meg take half of his dishes. “Meg, I don’t know if you’ve talked to Daria or not, but, um, if you do, could you let her know that I love her and I want her to come home.”

  She gave him a look so full of pity that he shuffled his feet and cringed. “Babe, move on.”

  “It was yesterday,” he snapped. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I mean,” he began in a much calmer tone, “She just left yesterday. She gave me some bull about us not meshing, but nothing’s really changed. I’m really confused. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  Meg crossed to him and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re not her type.”

  That was as unhelpful as anything Daria had said. If he wasn’t her type, then why had she moved in with him? He tamped down on his frustration. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re a nice guy. Nice guys finish last.” She picked up her box. “I’m sorry.” He followed her so that he could open the door. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think the thing she’s got going with Gary will last either.”

  Greg inhaled. “G-Gary? You mean her fucking trainer?”

  “Oops.” Her eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”

  His face was hot and his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. “She’s got a thing going with Gary? The guy who I p-paid to come over here twice a week?” Her lack of response told him everything he needed to know. Daria had played him for a fool, right under his nose, and with his money to boot! He closed the door in Meg’s face.

  He put a hand over his mouth to ensure he wouldn’t yell. Hurt and humiliation burned in his gut. “Fuck.”

  Chapter Two