“It should be, because clothes do maketh the man. Now this is the uniform tonight. White shirt, denim skirt, sneakers, and red bandana. So change already, and I’ll see you downstairs.”
“I don’t wear red headscarves.” Hope looked at the offensive item Faith held out to her.
“Don’t be a sissy, it’s a bandana.” Faith snatched the bandana back. “I’ll put it on you when you get downstairs. Now hurry up and stop bitching. You’re getting paid, aren’t you?”
“You people are way too used to having your own way,” Hope muttered when Faith had left. Stripping, she pulled on the shirt, which fit, but was a bit snug over the breasts, as she had a bit more there than Faith. The sneakers fit perfectly, as did the skirt.
“Great, I look like a preppy schoolkid, but I’ll do it for money,” Hope said, looking in the mirror. She was all about being different, and not following any trends. Individuality had always been her thing, because her mother didn’t have the money to clothe her in what the other kids wore.
Stuffing her clothes into her backpack, Hope left it and her boots beside the bed and headed back down to the bar.
Noah’s wolf whistle had her giving him the stink eye.
“Get behind the bar, you sexy thing, and we’ll get you started.”
“I want to beat him now,” Hope said to Faith when she joined her.
“He has that effect on people.”
Hope had worked there years ago, so it wouldn’t take too long to reacquaint herself.
“So what’s the deal tonight?”
“It’s rock ’n’ roll night.”
“Okay, so that explains the preppy look,” Hope said.
“Now sit while I fix your hair.”
“Aww, look at you girls, playing hair and stuff,” Noah said, walking past with several bottles of wine in his arms. “Brings back memories… no, wait, that was someone else.”
“Dickhead,” Faith said dragging a brush through Hope’s hair and making her eyes water as she tugged at the knots.
“Christ, Hope, I may need to get the rake from the yard for this. When did you last brush it?”
“Bite me.”
It was ruthlessly brushed until it was knot-free. Faith then tied the bandana in place.
“At least it’s red so it will soak up the blood.”
“Wimp. Now, I’m applying makeup, so don’t kick me.”
“What?” Before she could move, Faith was painting stuff on her face. “I didn’t sign up for makeup.”
“What’s your problem with doing girl stuff?”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” Hope muttered. “I just don’t like it.”
“You’ve never tried it because your mother doesn’t use it. But it’s nice to wear now and again. So sit still, because tonight you’re wearing some so you don’t scare our customers away.”
Hope had never worn makeup. It was just never a thing she’d explored as a teen, and then as she got older she’d lost the urge. “Whatever, just get it done, will you.”
Faith wielded a brush on her eyes, and eyeliner pencil, and brushed something over her cheeks. She then stroked mascara on her lashes.
“Relax your mouth.”
Her lips were then painted.
