Becoming Miss Cooper Ch. 05

Thank you so much to my editor incredimeters for all your help.

***Authors Note*** Thank you for reading my story. If this is the first of my stories that you have ever read, welcome. I always recommend reading any of my series from the start as I generally do not keep describing characters after the first or second chapters.

Part 1

I was at the restaurant. I stood just inside Roosevelt's front door looking at my watch for the tenth time. Where the hell was, she? I thought. Staci had seemed so excited on Saturday night. I could not believe she wasn't here yet. Not to be narcissistic, but surely, she wouldn't stand me up. Would she?

It was a nice, cool night, so I had on my camel-colored duster. I loved the coat as it was cool with the lapel flaps open and warm with them closed. I had parked about a block away in one of the lots and walked the remaining stretch to the restaurant. The doorman had opened the door for me and I had gone in only to discover when I gave the man at the front desk my name that Staci had not arrived yet.

However, I was surprised to see that Judy Class and Riya Khan had arrived. They were having dinner together and they became my savior. With their help, I was able to trade reservations and buy Stacy another 30 minutes. The maître d' then asked if I wanted to wait in the bar or the serenity garden. I said I would prefer to wait for Staci in the garden and so retained my coat.

A few minutes in the gardens cured me of all my worries. I had it all to myself. I was unabashedly smelling every bloom and taking in every color. I loved its design. Very feng shui. I felt energized and I have to admit I didn't even notice Staci come in until she tapped me on the shoulder.

Staci looked like she needed calming. Her makeup was good but plain. If our friendship continued, I was going to have to give her a few tips. She had let her hair out of its usual messy bun and it fell well below her shoulder blades. It was so blonde it was almost white. I imagined what Staci would look like dressed up as a certain Ice Queen and made a mental note to check Mystic Clothes and Costume's inventory. Surely, they had an Elsa costume.

At the moment, Staci was dressed in a black tuxedo, or at least mostly dressed. The pants were a little short, only coming down to her ankles. I could see she was wearing black stockings, either thigh highs or nylons, I could not tell which, but no shoes. The shirt looked to be a size too small and her ample chest was peeking out as she had not been able to button it. At least one of the studs was missing from the shirt as were the cufflinks. The bow tie was around her neck but not tied.

"I am so sorry I'm late," she apologized. She held up a pair of tuxedo shoes, that in contrast to the rest of the outfit, looked to be at least a size too big. "Have you ever tried walking in these things? There is like no padding in them."

I couldn't help but smile. I had worn them to my mother's wedding and prom so I knew exactly what she was saying. This made Staci even more upset. "I am so stupid. I should have taken more time and now because I didn't, I'm late. We probably lost our reservation," Staci blew a stray hair out of her face before going on, "You look great. I look horrible. You are probably going to just leave me sitting here and I wouldn't blame you a bit if you did," Staci rambled.

I stopped her by pressing my index finger to her lips. It was a far more intimate gesture than I think she was expecting. Then I put both hands on her shoulders and pushed her down onto a stone bench while making a shushing sound. "It's OK that you're running late. I completely understand." I walked around behind her and started to rub the back of her neck and her shoulders. "Take a minute to calm yourself in this beautiful garden and then we will go from there."

Staci closed her eyes. Then she remembered the time. She shot back up. The back of her head missed colliding with my nose by less than an inch. "But what about our reservations?"

I pushed her back down. I also took a small step back just in case she decided to pop up again. I made my voice as calm as I could and said, "Makeup rule # 12, there is always time to make yourself look and feel better."

Staci chuckled and gave me half a smile. "Right, and at Big Mike's if you're a few minutes late, hey no problem, but here," she looked at her watch. "Crap, it's quarter to eight."

"When it became obvious that you were not going to be here by half past, I moved the reservation to eight," I said shushing her again.

"You can do that, here?" Staci asked, truly perplexed.

"No, but you can trade," I said opening my handbag and pulling out my handkerchief, my spare handkerchief, and a white silk scarf I never seem to remember to put away.

Staci's eyes followed me as I pulled her foot up and wrapped it in one of the handkerchiefs. "Trade? With who?"

"Judy Class."

"You know Judy Class?" Staci asked as she put on her left shoe.

"Not really." I let her foot fall and grabbed the other and repeated the process. "I mean I met her at the charity raffle. We had a moment before we went on stage and of course, had fun while on stage but other than that no. But she is really nice."

Staci put the other shoes on and stood. "Hey that's not bad," she said doing a quick heal-to-toe walk back and forth. "Dancing is out but at least I can walk in them now."

"I was about to just have them seat me while I waited for you when Judy and Riya Khan waved. I am pretty sure something is going on between those two," I said getting off-topic for a minute. "Anyway, Judy and Riya came over to tell me they loved my hair but then Riya saw my distress and asked what was wrong. I gave them a quick run-down and Judy told the maître d' that since they were early, they would take our 7:30 reservation and you and I could take their 8 o'clock one."

"That's why I have always liked her...," Staci commented and then looked as though she had said more than she should have, "I will have to send them a thank you card."

I wanted to ask how she had their address, and how much she knew about them but just let it go for now as we were short of time.

It looked like someone had lifted a hundred-pound weight off of Staci's shoulders. "Now, let's get you in order." I looked her over, "Do you have the missing stud for your shirt?"

"No." Staci looked miserable, "This is my brother's old tux. He only keeps it to use it for parts."

"OK, take your coat off." Staci did. "Now the shirt too and hand it over." She started to remove her shirt and then thought better of it.

We locked eyes. Her eyes said, 'She was not sure she could trust me yet but she wanted to.' Mine said, 'Trust me I have a plan.' At least I hope that's what they said. That must have been what they said as she finished removing her shirt. I expected her to cross her arms over her breasts but instead, she just let them fall to her sides. She stood there wearing only what I thought was a white tank top. I momentarily forgot what I was doing as I stared at her chest.

It was a little chilly in the garden and so I watched as her nipples hardened and then appeared through the thin material of the tank top. Naturally, women's breasts had always fascinated me but until now I had been far more interested in having them than touching them. As the outline of Staci's areola began to show and her nipples became skyscrapers, I wanted to do a lot more than touch them.

"Ami?" Staci asked bringing me out of my haze, "I'm getting cold." Staci then began to rub her arms to emphasize this fact.

I mentally shook my head to get back on track. I took my long silk scarf and placed the end between and just under her breasts. I accidentally, on purpose, brushed her right nipple and almost blanked out again. I had to literally shake my head this time to stay focused. I took her hand and had her hold the end of the scarf. "Hold this tight please, until I make my first pass," I instructed her, and began to walk around her like rogue two went around the ATAT, in The Empire Strikes Back.

It killed me to cover those beautiful tits but this shirt was never going to fit with them untamed. The length of the scarf was perfect as it ended just before I made it back to the middle of her chest. I accidentally, on purpose, brushed her right nipple again. This time she smiled down at me, which told me she didn't mind. I tucked the end of the scarf into the wrapping under her arm and knotted the end. Please let it hold, I thought. I had to focus or we were going to miss our dinner reservation, again. Part of me wondered if that would be a bad thing.

"How does that feel," I asked.

Staci flexed and then smiled. "That feels great. Where did you learn how to do that?"

"History Channel, I Want my Mummy," I joked.

Staci laughed. The scarf held. I pulled the studs out of her shirt and handed them back to her. She put it on and buttoned it up and tucked the shirt in. I put one of each of the shirt studs in her sleeves and then put the last stud in the pocket of her slacks. I surveyed my work. The shirt was still too small. Her chest was still pushing the shirt to its limits but not beyond. I held out the jacket and she put it on it too was tight but not as obvious since she chose not to button it.

"I don't do cummerbunds. They make me look fat," Staci mentioned before I could ask.

I pulled her bow tie from around her neck. It was twisted in a dozen places. "I can't imagine anything making you look fat," I said as I straightened it.

I stared up into her brown eyes. She looked down into mine. Finally, I had to break the silence, "Would you sit, please? I can't tie your bow tie from down here."

Staci looked sheepish and sat. I couldn't tie her bowtie with her sitting either. I had never tied one on someone else before. I pulled out my small compact and handed it to her with the mirror out. I moved around behind her and used the mirror to tie her bow tie. Staci moved her chin one way and then the other to get a better view of my handy work. "Hey, you're pretty good at that," Staci said with a smile.

"Thank you," I said packing everything up and putting it away in my handbag.

Staci stood and looked at her shoes. She just stood there staring at me like a very nervous teenage boy picking up his date for prom. Finally, I asked, "Shall we go?"

I took her arm. Staci got the hint and escorted me out of the garden and back into the building proper. What a nice couple we make, I thought as I saw our reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

We stopped at the cloakroom where I handed over my duster. I took my claim slip from the girl and turned back to Staci. She was mesmerized.

Diana Reed, my hairdresser, had somehow done my hair in a milkmaid braid that went all the way around the top of my head so it looked like I was wearing a crown of hair. She had gone very pale with my foundation and blended in a little extra rouge to bring out my cheeks. She talked me into pink eyeshadow and ruby red lipstick. She showed me several models that were wearing the same combination but I was not totally convinced. When I told her I was worried it was a little too geisha, she just laughed.

I was wearing a modern Qipao silk dress with short sleeves and a Mandarin collar. It was supposed to stop six inches above my knees but because I am short in the torso it lands about three inches above them instead. The dress itself was a light gold, almost butter color with long-stemmed pink orchids embroidered all over it. The dress was trimmed in emerald green lace and it had matching green toggle closers. I had on a pair of chocolate thigh highs and green leather Mary Jane's. I completed the outfit by wearing emerald teardrop earrings.

I pinched her shoulder and asked, "You, OK?"

"Wow. I mean Wow!" Staci said trying to recover. "You look amazing."

"Well, I didn't want you to think you had won the kewpie doll," I clowned.

We walked up to the reservations check-in station. We had a whole minute to spare. The same maître d' was on duty. He was flustered but thankfully not at me or Staci. If anything he looked happy to see us coming.

A man and a woman stood at the desk asking to be seated. They didn't have a reservation but had shown up just expecting there would be an open table. The unmistakable haughtiness of the rich and powerful. The man, who was bald, short, and plump, was wearing a nice grey suit. The woman was also short, but very thin with grey hair and way too much makeup. She was dressed all wrong as well. Her dress was new but it didn't fit her well and would have looked much better on a younger woman.

At this point the maître d' motioned us forward, saying to the other couple, "I will try to see what I can do Mr. Carter but we are rather full. I see that there are a few seats available in the bar. I could have menus brought to you there."

"That would be wonderful, George," said the man in a very polite voice, "Let's go have a seat at the bar dear."

She exploded at this perfectly logical solution to the problem. "The bar. The BAR!" The woman turned to her husband. "What am I? Some sort of factory worker? Will we order bur-gers (She said the word with great sarcasm and dislike) and sample the latest confection of the local brewery? Maybe we could pour chilly on our French fries and lick our fingers too? Really Charles, what are you..."

The woman locked eyes on me. The disdain in her eyes made my blood run cold. "Oh, for heaven's sake not another one." She threw up her arms and then turned to her husband. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. "You know in my Father's Day Roosevelt's would never allow such riff-raff to dine here. It's not bad enough that you sat Judy and her little sand... (we all knew what she was going to say but thankfully at that moment she coughed, saving all of us from having to hear it), ahead of us, but now I have to wait for you to serve a Jap before me too."

The room went silent. I am not sure why but I smiled. It was everything I could do to not laugh out loud at the complete obscurity of the woman and her statement. I'm Chinese. Riya is Indian. This woman was so clueless and so out of touch she could not even insult us properly. The image of Cruella Deville driving her car off a cliff kept going through my head. Then my mind replaced Cruella with this pitiful excuse for a human being and I watched her go off the cliff a couple of times.

"Can you believe her?" I asked Staci.

Staci had not thought the statement funny. She was enraged to the point her nostrils were flaring. I had never seen that before. She pulled away from me and walked right up to the couple. "Mr. Carter," Staci said politely to the man while curtsying. Then she turned to Mrs. Carter and got right into her face. Staci was so upset I would not have been surprised if she had slapped the woman. "Mrs. Carter. I didn't find your comment about my friend appropriate and so I must insist that you apologize."

The fact that Staci was standing up for me was a serious turn-on.

The woman took a step back from Staci. Then she tried to cover her fear with bravado, "How dare you talk to me like that? Do you know who I am? Just who do you think you are? You crossdressing hussy."

"I know very well who you are Mrs. Carter. Do you know who I am?" Staci fired back.

Mrs. Carter looked confused. Mr. Carter tried to help, "It's Staci, Phillis. Elizabeth's oldest girl."

"I know that you fool." Mrs. Carter said even though it was clear to everyone that she hadn't. "Wait till I have a talk with your mother, young lady."

Staci seemed prepared for that response. "Talk to her all you want, Mrs. Carter." Staci paused to take a breath, "She can't stand you any more than I can."

"Perhaps we should go?" Said, Mr. Carter. "George, can you please have my car brought around?"

"Yes sir," George said taking Mr. Carter's valet stub, happy to have something to do and a means of getting rid of the vial woman.

Mrs. Carter didn't seem to like that suggestion any more than the suggestion about eating in the bar. Just like before it sent her into hysterics. Knowing that she could not stand up to Staci she turned her fury on her husband. "Well, I don't. Are you going to let her talk to me like that?"

I thought for a moment that the man was going to respond, no, but then he seemed to come to a decision. "Yes, Phillis I am." He took a deep breath, "It's about time someone did."

Mrs. Carter looked at her husband as though he had grown a second head. "Charles? What are you thinking?"

The little man stood there for a minute and then a single tear rolled down his cheek, "I'm thinking that because of you and your prejudices, I have not seen Cara in three years. (Mr. Carter held up three fingers.) I have never met my son-in-law or our granddaughter." He took another deep breath, "Well, that changes tonight."

Mrs. Carter was stunned. At the mention of Cara's name, it hit me like a lightning bolt. These were Cara Reed's Parents. This was the rich lady that had got Alexis banned from doing pageants so Cara would have a better chance to win. I stared at the woman with renewed loathing.

Mr. Carter in stark contrast, looked like a new man. He pulled out his cell phone and started to scroll through his numbers. He found the number he was looking for and hit send. Mrs. Carter asked, "Charles, who are you calling?"

Mr. Carter walked toward the wall. He held up his hand to silence his wife. For the first time in years, she obeyed her husband and fell silent. He sighed noticeably as someone must have picked up. "Hello sweety, it's Daddy... No, I'm fine and so is your mother...Sweety, I know this is out of the blue and it's late but can I come over and see you...I don't care about how your house looks...I love you, sweety. I miss you and if I may I would like to see you tonight...Well, I have not eaten either...I can grab food on my way over...Anything you want...Pizza...Black olive and pepperoni no problem...You got it. Love you."

Stace pulled a coupon for Big Mike's out of her wallet and handed it to Mr. Carter. "This will get you a free breadstick plus the takeout number is on the back."

Mr. Carter hugged Staci. "Thank you, my dear," he said and then he started for the front doors.

"Charles?" Mrs. Carter said her voice stern on the edge of scared, "You can't just leave..."

Mr. Carter kept walking. Mrs. Carter moved over to us and stuck her forefinger in Staci's face. She was the perfect villain to the last, saying to Staci, "You will regret crossing me, Staci Kline."

She never apologized. She was definitely deflated but far from defeated. I had heard firsthand from Diana how dangerous this woman could be and I wasn't taking any chances. She just gave me a harumph as she walked past and headed out at a brisk walk, presumable to catch up to her husband.

Part 2

George apologized to us profusely for all the commotion and promised that he had his best table and his best waiter ready for us. His best waiter turned out to be a good friend of Staci's named Kent. Kent looked like he was barely 18. He was taller than Staci but pretty skinny. He had short dark brown hair, and hazel eyes and was trying to grow a mustache but not having much luck.

The best table turned out to be a booth in a corner of the restaurant. I sat first on one side and Staci scooted in from the other. It was pretty far away from the restrooms, kitchens, and front door. Very private and cozy to say the least.

Kent brought us our water and said he would give us a minute to look over the menus. I almost had a heart attack at the prices. I had thought about bringing John here sometime, but maybe not. True to my penny-pinching nature I found a comfortably priced meal. Staci spent more time looking at me than at the menu. "You were very impressive," I said, and put up my menu like a cubical wall so I could duck behind.