Whitney nodded as she came out holding a little number in black dancing from a hanger. “It’strue.Hestyles all my wigs these days, and does my hair whenI’mfeeling lazy.Marriageis awesome.”
“You lucked out,”Willowsaid as she sorted through her tackle box of makeup and my sparse cosmetic bag. “Abodyguard, personal trainer, husband, and hair stylist all in one.”
“He’s a pretty good cook too,”Whitneychimed in as she plucked a pair of high heels out of her tractor-trailer of a suitcase. “Andgreat at finding coffee in an airport.”
“Hell yeahIam,”Milessaid as he came at me withWillow’scurling iron. “Jack’sgonna love being a part of theWWs.Ittakes a strong man to be one of the girls.”
“Is this my movie makeover montage?”Iasked as foundation was smeared on my face and blended out byWillowwhileMilessectioned my hair, curled each piece, then pinned it up to cool.
“No,”Willowsnapped defensively. “Youcan’t get the dead aunt clichéanda movie makeover montage.That’snot fair.Thedead aunt cliché is awesome on its own.”
“It’s totally a makeover montage,”Milessaid.
“Ah yes.”Icoughed as powder plumed from the makeup brush, sealing my face down. “Becausesplinters and blisters aresosexy.Whycouldn’tIhave gotten the bodyguard cliché likeWhitneydid?”
“Hmm,”Whitneyhummed. “Psychostalker, kidnapping, third-degree burns, head trauma, and nightmares.ShallIgo on?It’sdefinitely not sexy.Takethe dead lady’s cool house.”Hervoice was light and jovial, butIdidn’t miss the way she glanced down at the deep burn scars circling her wrists like macabre bracelets as she looked through our collective jewelry options.
“Fair,”Isaid.
Miles finished setting my hair and jogged to get the hairspray.Hepaused whereWhitneywas laying out the three final outfit options on the bed and kissed her lips, then lifted her hands and kissed each scarred wrist.
“Nowthat’sa moment,”Willowsaid, her words staying just between us.
“They’re perfect for each other.”
“Sorry to say, but we’re going to suffocate you, gorgeous,”Milessaid as he uncapped the hairspray at the same timeWillowcame at me with makeup setting spray.
“Don’t breathe!”Willowwarned before dousing me.
The cool mist felt divine.Milestossed the hairspray can onto the bed, grabbed anAuroraArcherpaperback, and used it as a fan to dry my face.Iglanced in the mirror and was shocked at the woman staring back at me. “Youtwo should go into business together.”
Willow andMileshigh-fived.
After a unanimous committee decision thatWhitney’slittle black dress was a classic,Mileswas kicked out while they undressed, re-dressed, and accessorized me like a storefront mannequin.
He reappeared, carrying a pair of expensive stilettos, whileWhitneystrangled me with a necklace.
“I can’t wear those,”Iblurted out. “I’lltrip and fall on my face.”
“They’re not so bad,”Whitneysaid asMilesknelt in front of me and slid them onto my feet likeIwasCinderellatrying on the glass slipper.
Miles offered his hand for support asIstood and found my balance, butIimmediately toppled over.
“Easy for you to say,”Iwheezed asIwas placed back on my feet byMilesandWillow.
“Don’t look down at your feet,”Whitneysaid, mother-henning me as she brushed non-existent lint off the spaghetti straps kissing my shoulders. “Lookstraight ahead and walk heel to toe.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Roar?Youready?”Jackcalled as he let himself into the house.
“No!”Ishouted.
“She’s ready!”Whitneyyelled over me.
“I’m not!”
“Do you need a pep talk?”Milesasked.
