thought of sharing space with him, at the thought of having him listening to everything she said, observing everything she did.
It would be like living inside a box.
A very, very small one.
She heard a worried sound, realized it had come from her and covered it with a fake cough. She was aware of Raine and Stephen watching her from one side, Max and William from the other.
She imagined Zed watching from above. Beside him sat a teenage boy with drooping eyelids and an angel’s smile.
“Okay,” she said finally. When the word came out sounding weak and near tears, she swallowed hard and tried again. “Okay. I’m in. When do we start?”
Stephen pointed to the door leading to the elevators. “Right now, because, girlfriend, we have a
lot
of work to do.”
A sinking pit opened up in Ike’s stomach, but she breathed past it and told herself she could handle this, she could handle the makeover, could handle William. When that breath didn’t settle her stomach, she took another. And another.
Then she lifted her chin and marched out the door.
Chapter Five
By noon the next day Ike had decided that the term
makeover
was a myth propagated by reality TV and people who sold cosmetics and home gyms. It wasn’t about being made over at all. It was about being unmade, about being stripped of uniqueness and turned into some
Pretty Woman
stereotype.
And even though she knew that was the whole point, there was a line she wasn’t willing to cross.
“No way.” She leaned back in the salon chair and heard a crinkle of protest from the tinfoil the stylist had folded into her newly extended hair. When Stephen kept coming at her, she cupped a hand over her right ear beneath the foils. “The earrings stay. Nonnegotiable.”
“It’s not permanent,” the big makeup artist said in his unexpectedly soft voice. Today’s T-shirt, worn over silver-toned pants, sported a turquoise happy face, but Ike wasn’t smiling.
She shook her head. “Look, I’ve given in on everything else.” Maybe not always gracefully, but she’d given in. “I’ve let you pick new clothes from the skin out, I’ve put up with hair extensions, a new makeup regime and lectures on how to walk, talk and act.”
The worst part was that, unlike the makeover reality shows where the producers kept their victim away from mirrors until it was time to unveil the finished product, Stephen and his minions had let her watch each stage of the unmaking, and she’d seen herself gradually disappear. Everything that made her unique and different, everything that made her stand out from the crowd and made her who she was…it was all gone. No more spiky black hair or tight clothes, no more swagger or attitude.
No more Ike Rombout.
She swallowed past a lump in her throat and continued, “My head is spinning, and I’m going to be paying off my credit card until well into next year. I’m not backing out, not by a long shot, so if that was Caine’s plan, it failed. But I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and this is it. The earrings stay. Work the hair around them or something.”
She’d meant that last sentence to come out like an order, but it ended up sounding like a plea, one that had Stephen’s eyes darkening with speculation as he said, “Why? Do they remind you of a man?”
Picturing Donny, who’d had more guts than any two grown men she’d ever met, she touched the stud in the middle of the three piercings. The clear diamond had a small blue inclusion at its center, making the stone more beautiful for its flaw. “Yeah, sort of. The middle one is for my brother. The bottom one was a gift from my parents a long time ago. And the top one…” She trailed off as her fingers found the blank spot where the glittering black diamond used to rest. “It’s a work in progress.”
The original stud lay in Zed’s casket. She’d buy herself another once his killer was brought to justice.
Stephen touched her arm through the stylist’s plastic cape.
It would be like living inside a box.
A very, very small one.
She heard a worried sound, realized it had come from her and covered it with a fake cough. She was aware of Raine and Stephen watching her from one side, Max and William from the other.
She imagined Zed watching from above. Beside him sat a teenage boy with drooping eyelids and an angel’s smile.
“Okay,” she said finally. When the word came out sounding weak and near tears, she swallowed hard and tried again. “Okay. I’m in. When do we start?”
Stephen pointed to the door leading to the elevators. “Right now, because, girlfriend, we have a
lot
of work to do.”
A sinking pit opened up in Ike’s stomach, but she breathed past it and told herself she could handle this, she could handle the makeover, could handle William. When that breath didn’t settle her stomach, she took another. And another.
Then she lifted her chin and marched out the door.
Chapter Five
By noon the next day Ike had decided that the term
makeover
was a myth propagated by reality TV and people who sold cosmetics and home gyms. It wasn’t about being made over at all. It was about being unmade, about being stripped of uniqueness and turned into some
Pretty Woman
stereotype.
And even though she knew that was the whole point, there was a line she wasn’t willing to cross.
“No way.” She leaned back in the salon chair and heard a crinkle of protest from the tinfoil the stylist had folded into her newly extended hair. When Stephen kept coming at her, she cupped a hand over her right ear beneath the foils. “The earrings stay. Nonnegotiable.”
“It’s not permanent,” the big makeup artist said in his unexpectedly soft voice. Today’s T-shirt, worn over silver-toned pants, sported a turquoise happy face, but Ike wasn’t smiling.
She shook her head. “Look, I’ve given in on everything else.” Maybe not always gracefully, but she’d given in. “I’ve let you pick new clothes from the skin out, I’ve put up with hair extensions, a new makeup regime and lectures on how to walk, talk and act.”
The worst part was that, unlike the makeover reality shows where the producers kept their victim away from mirrors until it was time to unveil the finished product, Stephen and his minions had let her watch each stage of the unmaking, and she’d seen herself gradually disappear. Everything that made her unique and different, everything that made her stand out from the crowd and made her who she was…it was all gone. No more spiky black hair or tight clothes, no more swagger or attitude.
No more Ike Rombout.
She swallowed past a lump in her throat and continued, “My head is spinning, and I’m going to be paying off my credit card until well into next year. I’m not backing out, not by a long shot, so if that was Caine’s plan, it failed. But I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and this is it. The earrings stay. Work the hair around them or something.”
She’d meant that last sentence to come out like an order, but it ended up sounding like a plea, one that had Stephen’s eyes darkening with speculation as he said, “Why? Do they remind you of a man?”
Picturing Donny, who’d had more guts than any two grown men she’d ever met, she touched the stud in the middle of the three piercings. The clear diamond had a small blue inclusion at its center, making the stone more beautiful for its flaw. “Yeah, sort of. The middle one is for my brother. The bottom one was a gift from my parents a long time ago. And the top one…” She trailed off as her fingers found the blank spot where the glittering black diamond used to rest. “It’s a work in progress.”
The original stud lay in Zed’s casket. She’d buy herself another once his killer was brought to justice.
Stephen touched her arm through the stylist’s plastic cape.
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