May shrieks with laughter, and I think it’s my favorite sound in the universe.
“Shush,” I tell her anyway, feeling my cheeks get hot.
Izzy is suddenly standing next to me. “No,” she says.
“Yes,” May tells her.
“No,” I say firmly. “Stop looking at me like that, Iz,” then, “Get away from me, Iz,” when her wide eyes are inches from my face.
She punches me in the arm.
“Ow.”
“Shut up,” Izzy laughs. “Really?” she asks May.
“Really,” May replies.
“No,” Izzy repeats.
“Yep,” says May.
“No,” I insist.
“This one just couldn’t get anything right,” Elodie the horrible one says out of nowhere, indicating to Rosalia, the other makeup artist. “I had to do it myself.”
I don’t even blink. “Yeah, well, maybe the problem’s not the artist. Maybe your face just rejects beauty.”
May coughs hard to cover a laugh.
Izzy doesn’t bother and cackles like a witch. “Rosalia could make a potato look luminous. But she’s not a magician,” she adds on for good measure.
Rosalia tries to hide her grin.
“Excuse you?” Elodie says to us.
“You’re excused.” I smile. “You’re free to take a walk. I hear nature is healing. Maybe some fresh air will fix your face.”
Elodie mutters something under her breath that sounds like “fucking bitches,” but she grabs her bag and strides out of the room.
Izzy waves.
I whirl towards May. “What the hell?”
May sighs. “I know. She’s Tom’s best friend. I had to include her. She’s not usually this bad.”
“Want me to slice up her dress?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Break one of her heels?” Izzy offers.
“Nuh uh.”
“Cut off a piece of her hair?” I try.
“I’m good.”
“Because we will,” I assure her.
