And immediately begins screaming at the sight of his own face.
Lana looks up from the fresh unicorn she’s drawn on the cheek of the princess beside her and joins the small boy’s screams. “What are you doing, Ricki?”
“You know.” I gesture to the kid who’s now crying inconsolably. “Painting faces.”
“Why would you paint anything that scary on a child?”
I look at the little boy with oozing wounds across his adorable cheeks and say, “He said he wanted to be a Ninja Turtle and, well, I don’t know how to do one of those. So I made him another movie character who lives in the sewer.”
“You made him into . . . Who is he even supposed to be?”
I smile and pull up the hood on the kid’s yellow sweatshirt. “See?” I say. “Now he just needs to go get a red balloon from the volunteers handing them out and he’s Georgie from It.”
“Seriously?” Even with her face bandaged, Lana puts a hand up to hide her smile. “Ricki, you’re the worst.”
“It feels good to be called Ricki again,” I say.
“Are you okay?” she asks the boy as she wipes his tears.
“I told Mommy I didn’t want her to do my Ninja Turtle,” he says, pointing to me. “And I was right!”
“But isn’t getting to be right kind of wonderful too?” Lana asks.
The kid blinks at her a few times. “I want a balloon.”
“Go ahead,” Lana says, pointing to where a volunteer is handing them out. She adds with a giggle, “Make sure you get a red one.”
“Tell your mommy, ‘I told you so,’” I say as he stands to leave. “Also, see if she can fold you an origami boat.”
He runs away, and Lana reaches across the table to slap my arm.
I tell her, “This is fun.”
She says, “The goal is not to send all these kids into therapy.”
Our line is steady, and Lana and I have a great time painting faces for almost an hour straight. A few cool youngsters are even into the blood and gore I’m serving.
Two brown-haired pre-preteen girls keep whispering to each other as they wait in line. When they finally sit down to have their faces painted at the same time Lana asks, “Are you two sisters?”
The girls launch into a fit of giggles at this, and the one in Lana’s seat says, “I love it when people ask that!”
“Our parents are best friends,” my girl says. “So, we’re basically like cousins.”
Lana turns her sunglasses my direction. “This is my actual cousin, Ricki, and we used to tell people we were sisters when we were your age.”
“Wow,” one of the girls says. “Did people believe you?”
“Nope,” Lana says. “Underneath all of these bandages we look nothing alike.”
I say, “Boy, do I ever wish we had two blue baby doll dresses for you girls to wear right now. You’d be perfect as the Grady twins from The Shining.”
They look at each other and look back at me with furrowed brows.
“Don’t tell me you two haven’t seen The Shining?” I turn and say to Lana, “What are they teaching these kids today?”
“They’re like, seven, Ricki,” Lana says, and turns to them. “Never mind her. What movie characters would you two like to be made up as?”
“That’s the problem,” my girl says. “We can’t agree.”
“I want us to both be Disney princesses,” Lana’s girl says. “But she’d rather be something gross, like a monster or Harley Quinn.”
“Harley Quinn isn’t gross,” I say. “And I can use pink and blue shadow to color your hair.” I scoop my girl’s hair up into two pigtails. “Just need to do your eyes and lips all crazy and write rotten across your right cheek.”
“That’s not going to look cute,” Lana’s girl says.
Lana laughs. “I hear you.” She leans down and asks her girl, “Which princess would you like to be?”
“Well, I really wanted us to be Anna and Elsa from Frozen, but now I don’t know who to be.” She crosses her arms and slumps her shoulders.
“I understand,” Lana says. “Sometimes we don’t know who we are when we feel abandoned by the people we love. It can be really hard to feel so alone.”
The girl looks at Lana for a beat and says, “Yeah, I’ll just be Elsa.”
I hold a long, rubber scar up to my girl’s face and ask, “Would you like your Harley a little extra-scary?”
She grins up at me. “Yes, please.”
Lana and I clean our brushes and get to work on their faces. The two of us work smoothly in sync, sharing colors and trading brushes without needing to say a word.
After a while I say, “You know, girls, staying close as you get older isn’t always easy.”
“True,” Lana says. “Communication is really important.”
“Crucial, really,” I say. “Like, don’t hide how you’re feeling from each other, because how can you help each other if you don’t share what’s going on?”
Lana has stopped making up her princess and is looking at me. “And don’t ignore problems. Clearing the air can be a good thing.”
I say, “Fighting can be ugly and painful sometimes, but it means at least you’re trying. And arguing with each other is so much better than totally cutting each other out of your lives.”
I look down and realize the two girls are watching us with horrified expressions.
“We just wanted our faces painted,” Lana’s Elsa says. “We could never ever, ever stop being friends.”
“I love you, bestie,” the girl in my chair says, and she leans over to hug her little friend.
Elsa hugs her friend back and says, “I love you too. This is going to be such a fun night!”
“Is my Harley Quinn almost done?” my girl asks with a grin, and I realize I’ve made her a little over-the-top creepy with the cuts on her face and undead-looking eyes.
“Er, sure, I think we’re finished here,” I say.
“Can I see?” She points to the hand mirror sitting face down on the table.
I say, “That mirror’s broken.”
The girls look at each other and smile. Harley tells Elsa, “You look beautiful!”
“Oh wow. You look so scary,” Elsa says, then smiles. “You’re going to love it!”
The two of them actually hold hands as they run off to find their parents, and when I turn back I feel Lana’s hand in mine.
“Do they remind you of anyone?” she asks.
I laugh. “Just a little.” I look at my cousin. “You know I’ll always have your back, right?”
“Ha,” she says. “Literally! Get it? Because you have my back and I have yours.”
“Too soon,” I say and give her a playful shove.
Lana laughs and then stops and looks at me a moment before lunging in for a hug.
I catch her with a grunt and wrap my arms around her. We rock back and forth a few times.
Lana says, “Besties?”
And I whisper back, “Always.”
Lana lets out a shaking sigh and I half expect us to change back. But when we separate I stumble a bit on my high heels and know that nothing has changed. Even though truly, it has.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around to see Wes standing behind me in his cowboy hat.
“Hey, Ricki?” he says and then looks back and forth between Lana and me. “You are Ricki, right?”
“Yup, I’m the Mummy,” I say, pantomiming a straight-armed grope as I give a few half-hearted Mmmmoohs. “Lana’s the Invisible Man.”
Wes says, “First of all, I really want to thank you both for doing this face painting today. Really. So great. But see . . .” Wes doesn’t seem to know how to finish what he’s trying to say.
Lana cuts in, “Ricki’s been doing all the gory-looking ones.”
“I knew it,” he says. “Seriously, Ricki, you need to stop.”
“What? I think everyone looks great.” I look around and see that there are several ghoulish children crying h
ysterically with mothers swiping at scars and oozing sores. “They were already crying like that before I did their makeup.”
Wes points and says, “That kid you turned into little Georgie from It is pretty upset.”
“That kid? He’s barely even made up,” I say. “What I really wanted to do was tuck in one arm and make his loose sleeve all bloody. Now that would’ve been a good Georgie.”
Lana and Wes just look at me for a few beats.
Finally, Lana says, “Sorry, Wes. I tried to make her stop.”
He sighs. “Anyway, I really need to talk to you, Ricki.” He gestures toward the snack stand. “Privately?”
I stay sitting. “If this about the face painting, I’ve just run out of fake blood, so I think we’re good here.”
“No, there was one other thing.” Wes sounds uncomfortable, which is not at all like him. “I have Jake managing the ticket booth. Can we maybe go talk in my office?”
“I’ve got this,” Lana tells me, gesturing to the small line of children still waiting. “And don’t worry, Wes. I only do cheery face paintings.” She points to a boy with a Captain America shield on one cheek and adds, “Superheroes are my specialty.”
I stand and take a few shaky strides in my heels. “All set,” I say, “Aaand if you don’t mind, I’ll just stay completely in character, cool?”
“You’re acting so strange today, Ricki. Even for you,” Wes says as he slows his pace down to match my wobbly one. “And that’s saying something.”
“Oh, I am aware,” I say as I focus on not falling.
The outdoor lights switch on, signaling it’s getting close to movie time, and I’m grateful for the extra light, but feel like time is moving so much faster than I can shamble along.
chapter 28
I manage to teeter the whole way to the concession shack with Wes. Once there, I use the countertop to help me stay upright as I drag myself along, hand over hand, making my way to the back. Finally, I find myself clutching the door handle to Wes’s office.
“Wait!” Wes shouts too late. “It’s booby-trapped!” I hear him just as the door pops open, and I wince in anticipation of more glitter. Instead, I’m immersed in furry full-body slams from my aunt’s three wolf dogs.
They knock me to the ground, thanking me for releasing them by licking my face until they’re dangerously close to exposing my identity.
Instinctively, I reach up and begin massaging the closest wolf’s ears. The giant dog gradually rolls onto his back and gives a happy grunt.
Moving quickly, I manage to subdue the other two dogs before my Lana face is uncovered. With three dogs and only two hands, it’s a bit like playing a game of whack-a-mole.
“That’s amazing,” Wes says, “it totally blisses them out.” He drops to his knees to help me massage pointy ears.
“Was this what you needed help with?” I ask as we continue to sit on the ground with the docile wolves.
“Not exactly. You see . . .” Wes opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then closes it, reconsiders, and tries again.
Mutely, I watch him struggle to find words, and a fear begins to grow in my chest. “Are you accepting the MegaMart offer from that real estate guy?” I ask through the lump in my throat.
“What?” He sounds surprised. “No, that’s silly. Folks have been after me to list this property for years. People who only care about money, and that guy is the worst one yet. Can you believe he had the nerve to go ahead and find a buyer without my okay? And then to come in here badgering me right when we’re in the middle of an outstanding reopening. I mean, obviously MegaMart is offering a lot of money . . .”
“So then what did you want to talk about, Wes?” I cut him off before he realizes “a lot of money” may be too much to pass up.
“It’s about your aunt,” Wes says and then looks at me. “Those white eyes are freaking me out, Ricki. Can you maybe lose the contacts while we talk?”
I think about Lana’s blue irises underneath these contacts. “Sorry, I forgot contact solution. What do you need to ask me about my aunt?”
Wes blushes. “I was kind of wondering if May is, er . . . free? I mean, not free, but available?” He sighs. “I don’t normally do relationships, but Ricki, I really like your aunt May.”
“Well, based on that drive-by kiss I saw her give you earlier, I’d say you’re in.”
“Oh, you saw that, huh?” Wes gives a bright smile. “Yeah, I mean I know we like each other and all, I’m just thinking I might be ready for, you know . . . like, if she might be open to a just her and me for good sort of thing.”
“I have never seen you so uncomfortable, Wes,” I say. “It’s nice. And hey, look, you’re already bonding with her wolf babies and that’s a really big step.”
“Yes!” He grins and leans down to give a belly rub to one of the dogs. He’s immediately whacked in the head with a giant paw that knocks off his hat. Wes laughs as he places his hat on the desk. One of the pups instantly accepts it as a gift and sniffs the inside thoroughly before moving on to chew the brim.
I ease the hat out of the dog’s mouth before he can do too much damage.
“Well, if you’re asking for my blessing to date my aunt, you’ve got it,” I say. “In fact, I wish you luck because you both happen to be two of my favorite people.”
Wes rubs some of the slobber off the brim and puts his hat back on his head.
“I may need every bit of that luck,” he says. “Remember how you and I were discussing whether or not she was avoiding me earlier today?”
“She wasn’t, I told you,” I say. “And look at the amazing pendant she was busy making you.”
Wes wraps his hand around the twinkling blue stone at his chest and takes a deep breath. “But that’s the thing,” he says. “Tonight’s movie was supposed to be our first date and a really big deal. And now here I am, with The Wizard of Oz all cued up as a special after-the-movie movie surprise, and here she is, well, not here.” He lets the pendant drop to his shirt. “I’m really worried about her deciding to take off for LA just now—does she know I’m serious?”
I think a minute and then shake my head. “If you understood the bond that my aunts and my mom have, you’d know that she had to go with them. No matter what. My aunt April is going through some stuff and needed the support.”
“So, you think I might have a shot with May? For, like, something real?” Wes pulls at the hem of his shirt.
“Here’s the thing about my aunt,” I say. “First of all, May is amazing. She’s the most unique and creative and generous person I know. She will make you see nature though a new lens of beauty, and I can promise she’ll make you belly laugh at least once every single day. She is absolutely worth loving.”
Wes says, “I can see all that in her. It sounds like you were about to say ‘but.’”
“I was just going to add that there are no guarantees. There are reasons the both of you have gotten to this point in your lives single, and you’re each a bit set in your ways.”
His face falls.
“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pursue this!” I say. “If I guaranteed she would say yes to a real relationship with you, that would be cheating. Fear of rejection is part of the journey.”
Wes says, “Rejection is the worst.”
“I totally agree,” I say. “But someone special recently told me that getting rejected means you tried something that you weren’t sure you could do. And that’s a pretty cool way to look at it.”
Wes’s eyes light up. “So, you really think I should go for it?”
“Yes, I do.” I give the brim of his hat a playful tug. “But you’ll have to ask her all this yourself because, Wes, this is not high school.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Ricki.” Wes straightens his hat. “The whole world is high school.”
I laugh. Wes puts a hand on my shoulder and I steady myself by putting one back on his.
He says, “I want you to know I’m really grat
eful for all the work you and Jake have put into saving the Starlight. You two jumped in right when I was starting to run a little low on hope for this place and it truly means a lot.”
“We’ve loved every minute,” I say. “This drive-in is incredible.”
“Yes, it is,” he says. “And so are the two of you.” He pauses a moment. “Can I ask why you’ve been avoiding Jake today?”
“Wow, Uncle Wes, feel free to barge right into my business.”
“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just that you don’t run a drive-in for as many years as I have without developing a knack for spotting couples in love. I’ve been watching you two for a while now, and today was kind of hard to witness.”
“It’s complicated,” I say. “But I haven’t been avoiding Jake.”
“You told him to meet you in the bouncy castle and then drove off in that crazy pink convertible with your cousin’s boyfriend,” Wes says. “Poor kid looked crushed.”
“You don’t understand,” I say. “That wasn’t really me.”
“Well, it sure looked like you,” Wes says. “And anyway, that wasn’t the first time I saw that crushed look on Jake’s face. Am I wrong about you liking him?”
“That’s not . . .” I start, and then try again. “I was waiting for . . .”
“Waiting for what?” Wes raises one eyebrow.
“Fine!” I growl. “I was waiting for a Magical Starlight First Kiss Under the Stars. There, I said it. To my boss.”
Wes laughs so hard the dogs all rush to his face to check on him. He pushes them away and says, “Holding out for one of those magic Starlight kisses, huh? You know who came up with that legend?”
I keep my white mummy eyes turned on him, but he just grins and nods. “Seriously?” I say. “It was you?”
Wes tips his hat to me. “Turns out, it’s easier to start an urban legend than you’d think. Just tell a few folks a success story or two using specific examples. Make up a catchy slogan to put in your ads, and voilà: A Kiss Under the Stars at the Starlight turns magic. Next thing you know, we’re all wearing the T-shirts.”
“But wait,” I say, “what about all the people who were still together after sharing their first magical kiss here? I talked to some of them. Still totally in love after years. The magic works!”
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