Out fit II

She knew they had offered to help, but her ego was bigger than her needs, so she ruled that option out. She had decided to wear her free jeans, with one of her favorite tank tops. She dug out the only lady-like shoes that she had. Her prom shoe, she was lucky that it was still fairly good and she could fit and look comfortable in it.

It was 3:30 PM, and she was ready. She wasn't very comfortable with what she was wearing but, didn't have many choices. She was by her mini mirror, looking at her portrait reflection before she heard a bang on her door.

'of course, the mad Sara was back,' 

She roughed her hair, trying to give it more volume before she finally headed to the exit.

She opened the door, yes it was who she speculated, but Sara's expression immediately changed from bad to worse.

"What is this?" She asked with an irritated face.

"What is what?" Joleen asked in a confused tone and expression.

"This?" Sara said with the same irritated expression and pointed towards her as her finger moved through her body from up to down.

"What is this that you are putting on?" She now threw the question in very clear words.

"Clothes," joleen said casually like she didn't see where she was going with that question. 

"And where do you think you are going with this OUTFIT of yours? Sara asked, emphasizing on the 'outfit'. 

"That's what I'm comfortable in," Joleen said.

But we all knew that was a lie, she hated these outfits for a party, and the shoe was already starting to wear off, so comfortable was the last thing she was feeling.

She heard Sara heave a sigh before hearing her speak.

"Whatever," she said.

"Come along," she added.

Joleen followed her to the dark Venus SUV car. It had dark-tinted glasses so she couldn't see whoever was inside. She reached the car as the guy standing just by the door opened the car door. Her sight was graced with Mr. Wayne in a black well fitted suit and dark shades. He didn't look in her direction, he just concentrated on the papers he was reading. His current pose as she saw him looked fictional, he looked like those mafia bosses that she read about in romance stories. But unfortunately, this was no romance story. It was one where she felt rage, belittlement, and the urge to fight some strange consuming feelings. One that drained her.

She got into the car as expected, and just before the car door was shut, Charles walked by.

Their eyes lock and for some reasons, a strange guilt, shame, and a sudden need to render an explanation of what she was doing with Dennis Wayne the man she so loudly detested.

It was really random to find her in his company, not that she owed Charles an explanation, but they were friends so she would expect to get questioned by him later.