The Makeover (4 page)

***

The doorbell rang shortly after seven p.m. Irritated, Greg dropped his pizza slice. He wondered who it could be. After getting dumped by Daria, he’d been too ashamed to call his old buddies. They used to have a standard game night once a week, but he’d stopped participating. Daria said it was a waste of time and he should be devoting his evenings to her.
Since that usually included sex, she didn’t really have to work that hard to convince him.

“Hi,” said his beautiful neighbor from next door. She wore a short-sleeved black t-shirt,
matching leggings and neon pink pumps with heels so high he wondered that she hadn’t snapped an ankle on her walk across the yard. Flashing him a bright smile, she toed off her shoes. “Where are your garbage bags?”

“Huh?” But he was talking to her back. She was already headed for his kitchen. Shaking his head, he muttered, “Come right on in, why don’t you?” He closed and locked the door before following her. This was becoming an annoying habit. Beautiful women seemed to traipsing in and out of his house taking whatever they wanted.

She was rifling through his pantry. Coming out with a box of garbage bags, she announced, “It’s cleaning day.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome to borrow them.”

“These aren’t for my house. My place is spotless. It’s for yours.
” She took out a bag and shook it out.

“I can clean my own place,” he pointed out, trailing behind her as she
began attacking his den.

She held a pizza box between her fingertips as though it were distasteful. He noticed that her long nails were the same shade of pink as her shoes. And, of course, her dainty little toes matched as well. “Then why don’t you?”

Speechless, he sputtered.
“I was going to,” he said finally.

“H
umph. Well, don’t just stand there. Go upstairs, take a shower, shave, and put on your best clothes. Whatever you would wear to impress Daria.”

Greg blinked.
Maybe she was crazy? She was slender but with curves in the right places. He could take her in a fight if he had to. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re not going to see her tonight.” She straightened up from where she’d been
struggling to dislodge a takeout box that had somehow wedged itself under his sofa. Her eyes flicked over him from head to toe. He hoped that she hadn’t seen him ogling her ass. But seriously, it was
amazing
. She couldn’t blame a guy for taking note. “You’re not ready for that yet.”

“Look…” He stopped, realizing that he didn’t even know her name. “What’s your name?”

“Mykal.” She stuck her hand out
and spelled out her first name as though it was an activity she had to do often. “Mykal Cooper.”

He shook her hand. It was slender and soft. “Gregory Scott. Call me Greg.” Her full attention focused on him, he was on
ce again struck by how lovely she was. Her skin was smooth and creamy like caramel. Her black hair was shiny and sleek. Her beauty was the reason he’d been so angry with her in the first place. Why did beautiful women treat normal, nice guys like dog shit? But then he’d been wrong about her. She was as much a victim of a cheating mate as he was. He cleared his throat. “So, you want me to change. Why?”

She smiled at him. “I’ve decided I’m going to help you win Daria back.”

His heart stopped and then thumped back to life. Every day for the last two months, he’d been hoping that it was some misunderstandi
ng. Daria hadn’t really left him for another man. She’d be back any day now. But then night came and he went to bed alone. And reality came crashing down. For the first month, he’d lived in denial. But then July came. He had no job. No woman. No reason to even get dressed in the morning. “You can’t help me. She won’t even take my calls.” Lately, he hadn’t been able to reach anything but her voicemail.

She made a strangled sound. “Please tell me you haven’t been calling her?” Before he could come up with a way to answer that didn’t shame him, she
waved a hand and continued. “Trust me on this; I can get her crawling back to you. Who better to help you win a woman’s heart than another woman? I admit, we’re not all the same, and I don’t know Daria well, but I think I know her type. And you can fill me in on any questions I might have. You’re going to have to make some changes. Some you’ll like, some you won’t.” She went back to cleaning.

“Not that one,”
he said as she picked up the pizza box he’d left on the couch. “That’s tonight’s dinner.”

“Then eat it in the kitchen like a civilized person. Or at least use a plate.” But she put it down. “Are you with me on this?”

“You really think you can help?”

“I know I can.”

He took a deep breath. She was so confident.
Maybe this could happen. He could get Daria back. God, he was so lonely! He’d have his life back. Excitement gripped him. “What do I need to do?”

She grinned and winked at him, which had the unexpected effect of making his dick go rock hard. “Go get pretty for me.”

When he came back down half an hour later, she had cleared ou
t all the old boxes of food, cans, bottles and napkins. Two large garbage bags sat by the door. He hated to tell her that his bedroom was almost as bad as the den had been. “Oh, good,” she said when she saw him coming down the stairs. “I’ve cleaned out your kitchen also.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I could have done it myself.”

“That was easy. The stove looks like it’s never been used.”

That was close to the truth. He could cook simple meals, but lately he hadn’t been in the mood to do so. Holding his arms out to the side, he asked “How do I look?”

She came forward and studied him with narrowed eyes. Slowly, she walked around him several times, her eyes sweeping over him from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. By the time she was done, he was certain that a bug under a microscope couldn’t have gotten a more thorough examination.
“Can you handle brutal honesty?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

She blew out a breath. “Okay. Let’s start with the hair. You need a trim, but you knew
that didn’t you? The color is good.” She reached up and grabbed his cheeks, turning his face from left to right. “Why did you cut off your sideburns? Don’t do that. Sideburns are sexy, they frame the face, and without them, it makes your hair look like it’s sitting on top of your head. Like a wig.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, sounding muffled and no doubt resembling a fish.

She ran her hands over his shoulders
and he suppressed a shiver. He wasn’t accustomed to attractive women, aside from Daria, touching him. “Nice width.” She took his hands and examined both sides. “Not bad. Manly.” She grinned. “Where’d you get this shirt? Did you buy it or did Daria?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Do you like it?”

He looked down at the shirt. It was black with cream colored palm trees. He thought it did a reasonable job of concealing the weight he’d gained in the last few months. “Yeah, it’s good.”

Mykal shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s a Hawaiian shirt. It should only be worn in Hawaii—and not then either if it can be avoided.
The same applies to bowling shirts. They should only be worn at the bowling alley. They make even the most gorgeous man appear oddly shaped.” She stood back and examined his pants. She took the material between her fingers and rubbed. “They’ll do but jeans are better.” She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his attention to her breasts. He quickly looked away. “So did Daria give a reason for breaking up with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Something about us not meshing and me not being ambitious enough.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Now? Nothing. Then, I was a used car salesman at her cousin’s car lot.
Admittedly, not a very good one.”

“What did you do before the two of you met?”

“I was a gamer. But she thought it was risky.”

“Were you good?”

He grinned. “One of the best.”

She paused, tilting her head to the side.
“You have a very sexy smile.”

He blushed. “Thank you.” When she’d asked if he could handle honesty, he’d expected this to be much more difficult. But she gave him as many compliments as she did criticisms. “Daria…also said I was getting chubby.”

“That bitch,” Mykal muttered under her breath but he heard her. Pursing her full lips, she stared at him again. “Do you want to lose the weight?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re going to have to cut down on the pizza and cook an occasional meal.
Most women won’t care about your weight, but she’s dating a trainer. I’m assuming he’s fit. And though we won’t be able to emulate his physique, we can trim you down. As for your job, it’s not that you’re unambitious. It’s that she made you quit something you were passionate about and shoved you into a job you hated. So your career is up to you. Whatever you want to do.”

He rubbed his chin. It was clean shaven for the first time in months. “I’d like to go back into game design. The gaming was fun, but excelling at a game is time consuming. I’d have to be in front of a console most of the day. But if I do that, Daria-”

“You can’t give a woman everything she wants. Especially if it’s at a cost to your self-respect. If you don’t respect you
rself, we won’t either.” That was a change he could get behind so he didn’t object. “Since you’re going to trim down, and you don’t have much to lose, we’ll tackle shopping later. Do you have a gym membership?”

He averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “I’ve got a year’s membership at Gary’s gym.”

“The trainer?”

He nodded.

“Any home equipment?”

“Yeah. I bought Daria an elliptical and a
treadmill.” He’d planned to use the downstairs bedroom as an office but Daria had claimed it as a workout room. “I’m guessing she didn’t take them when she left. I didn’t see them on the back of the truck.”

They checked out the equipment to make sure it was there and that it was working. Then they carried out the trash. It was growing dark so Greg walked her back to her house. “I’ll see you bright and early in the morning. So get a good night’s rest.”

And the funny thing
was, for the first time since Daria left him, he did.

Chapter Three

Greg intended to clean up his bedroom before Mykal came over. But he certainly wasn’t expecting her at six in the morning. He rolled out of bed, managed to make it down the stairs without stumbling, and snatched open the door as she was leaning on the doorbell for the fourth time. “What do you have for breakfast?” She breezed by him as usual and headed toward his kitchen.

“Should I give you a key?”

“Only if you’re always going to be such a slow poke about opening the door,” she called over her shoulder.
She opened his fridge and then went through his cabinets. “You really don’t use this kitchen, do you? What do you usually eat for breakfast?”

“Pizza.”

“You’re really that fond of pizza?”

“More than the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

“
And how fond are you of cartoons?”

He could feel a blush scalding his cheeks. “No more than the average guy.”

She grinned. “My favorite is
Phineas and Ferb
. It was a shame that they got canceled.”

Her response surprised him.
He couldn’t imagine someone as perfect as her watching cartoons. Though it was early in the morning, her hair was sleek and shiny as always, not a single strand out of place. She wore a figure hugging black exercise tank top and matching pants. The outfit was too cute to be any actual use. Her nails were immaculate, painted purple with silvery sparkles on top. He liked that she kept them a reasonable length. They were feminine and long, but in no way reminded him of claws. Everything about her screamed dainty, tea-sipping flower. She was an interesting mix of sex and class.

“We’ll eat breakfast at my place
.”

“I should dress first.” He was in an oversized shirt and shorts.

She smiled. “Why? I’ve already seen you in your skivvies.”

So he followed her over and watched her prepare two ham and cheese omelets
. She gave him the task of washing and cutting strawberries and fixing coffee. When they sat down to eat, he noticed her pause. She put her fork down and bit her lip. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to become a harpy but…”

“No, go on. What is it?” He wondered what could make her hesitate. After all, she’d told him his hair looked like a wig.

“Your house…I noticed that you’ve got several…accent walls.”

Greg almost spit out his coffee. He swallowed quickly and laughed. “Don’t worry. I’d be glad to paint over them.”

She smiled. “That’s great. And you should also remove the nails from the walls or put up new pictures.”

“But what about when she comes back?”

“She can put her photos
elsewhere or put them in an album. You don’t want her to think you’ve been pining away for her. You want her to think the door is closed.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand. When do I go after her again?”

“You don’t. She’ll come to you.”

He sighed. “This is never going to work.”

“It will. Once we’ve got you ready, we will find the perfect opportunity to conveniently bump into her. She’ll see that you’re doing better than ever and she’ll want to be a part of that. But that is a long way off.” She sipped her coffee. “Now, I picked up at your house, but you still need to vacuum and dust. You’ve got to shop for groceries. I’ll give you a list later and give you dinner ideas. We’re going to limit you to lean meats and veggies. No desserts. No beer. No soda.”