Jerome is actually a big help, prepping the gorgeous green dress and shoes that were left on my bed for me, and then picking out some jewelry to match, as I apply my makeup as fast as I can and quickly unbraid my hair and pin it on top of my head. We manage, somehow, to get me fully ready in under five minutes.
“Wow,” I say, as I push an earing through my lobe and simultaneously slide my foot into the shoe that Jerome, kneeling on the floor, holds steady for me. “If you ever decide to quit being a low-level mafia lackey, you certainly have a career as like, one of those people who helps people get changed fast between scenes in a play –“
“I know,” Jerome says, smirking at me as he stands up. “I grew up helping the ladies at my mom’s strip club make quick changes between their acts.”
