Massie by Lisi Harrison

highlight at a time. And Southampton in the summer was teeming with potential customers. Sunburned lips, dry hair, oily complexions, and last year’s eye shadow were as common as crab cakes.
    But not for long.
    “Massie!” Ellie Neufeld appeared in the open doorway wearing an XL SOUTHAMPTON KIDZ KLUB T-shirt that fell over her bulky B-cups and skimmed her scraped knees.
    “Surprise!” Trini sauntered in with a toss of her stiff orange hair. She dropped her orange Fendi on the marble credenza and spread her arms, inviting the blasting air-conditioning to cool her underarms. “Who wants to see my new Burberry—” Her wide green eyes stopped dead on the crate of makeup. “Hold. I thought Saks was tomorrow afternoon.” She pouted. “Did you and Mona sneak off without me?”
    “Of course not.” Kendra stood and smoothed her navy silk Elie Tahari blouse. “My daughter just became a Be girl,” she said proudly. “Massie, why don’t you take Ellie up to your
    room while Trini and I visit?”
    “But I have so much work to do.”
    “I’m sure Ellie will find your new job very fascinating.”
    Kendra shot her an and-that’s-an-order smile. To which Massie responded with an eye roll and a foot stomp. But until she got her Visa back, Massie was a slave to her mother’s infuriating demands.
    “Can I help do your job?” Ellie asked as she followed Massie and her crate into her bedroom.
    “How can you possibly help? Your style is worse than . . .” Massie paused, her amber eyes zeroing in on Ellie’s chapped, cracked lips. Then her watery blue eyes. Then her dull complexion, her limp red hair, and her thin brows. “Of course you can help.”
    Massie reached into the crate and pulled out a purple makeup caddy. It was fully stocked with towers of purple boxes filled with lipstick, eye shadow, blush, gloss, and eyeliner. The she popped the Be Motivated CD into her Bang & Olufsen player and turned up the volume. It sounded New Age-y—like a female alien singing, “Be, be, be,” while a pan flute whistle-moaned in the background.
    “Do you want me to do your makeup?” Massie hurried to her apple green chaise by the window, where the natural light was best, and wave-invited Ellie to join her.
    “Could you make me as pretty as you?” Ellie asked.
    “I’m a makeup artist, nawt a plastic surgeon.” Massie orangey-red bangs from the crime scene, and took a long hard look.
    She unscrewed the cap of Be Clear and squeezed a dime-size ivory dot onto the back of her hand. “I’m going to start with some foundation. It will balance out your uneven skin tone.”
    Ellie nodded solemnly and let Massie get to work.
    “Now for some Be Rosy cheek stain to keep the morgue from hauling you away.”
    “Do I really look
that
pale?” Ellie touched her face.
    “Stay still,” Massie insisted. “And close your eyes.” She brushed some smoky gray Be Sultry eye shadow on Ellie’s fluttering lids. “This will totally cover those gross red veins. And this . . .” She penciled in her sparse brows with Be There brow pencil in chestnut brown. “. . . will keep you from looking like an extraterrestrial.”
    “Can I see now?” Ellie bobbed up and down on the chaise.
    “Freeze! I still have to apply the Be Bold eyeliner.” Massie rubbed the sharp tip over her wrist to check the color.
    “What are you doing now?”
    “Stay still.” Massie tilted Ellie’s head toward the light, then began lining her lids with dark blue pencil. “This will make your eyes look a lot less . . . missing.”
    After two coats of Be Dramatic mascara, Massie took a step back to admire her work.
    “Perfect!” She beamed. “I am so good at my jobby.”
    “Let me see,” Ellie begged.
    “Almost done.” Massie dusted Ellie’s cheeks with translucent powder, added a touch of cheek shimmer to highlight her low cheekbones, and topped it all off with a thin coat of clear gloss over her flaming red chapped lips.
    “Owwww, it stings!” Ellie