Warpaint

by J J Maya

  Warpaint

  J.J. Maya

  Contents

  1. Primer

  2. The Sandman

  3. Girl in a Hurry

  4. Prep and Go!

  5. Sharks on the Shop Floor

  6. Scar Tissue

  7. Transformation

  8. Big Reveal

  9. Exfoliator

  10. Colour Corrector

  11. Runway

  12. Port Wine Stain

  13. Shock Value

  14. Keeping up Appearances

  15. Solution

  16. Earl Grey and Cucumber Sandwiches

  17. Once Bitten

  18. Camouflage

  19. Empire State of Mind

  20. Panstick & Spackle

  21. The Next Step

  22. Christmas in New York

  23. Heaven or Las Vegas

  24. Winter Flurry

  25. Being Fabulous

  26. Cat Flick

  27. Flush

  28. Blush

  Dedication

  In Memory

  Acknowledgements

  Subscribe

  Copyright

  1

  Primer

  KAREN CARPENTER SANG “We’ve only just begun,” as the hired limousine pulled into priority parking at Glasgow Airport.

  “Mrs. Campbell and Mr. Delgado, congratulations! I’ve reserved seats 2a and 2c. Please go to gate 12 where your flight will soon be boarding.”

  Rick and I locked eyes as the economy class passengers looked on.

  I could get used to this, I thought as I smiled at a young woman who was watching me from behind the cordoned off area. As I strode proudly into the First-Class Lounge on the arm of my new American husband, I gazed at the assistant who was serving complimentary drinks to the passengers awaiting the call for their flight. It was a well-known fact that they liked to turn up for boarding at the very last minute to avoid the others who would be sitting down the back in economy. Her manicured hand trembled slightly as she poured two glasses of celebratory champagne. I noticed that Rick held her gaze a moment too long for my liking.

  Once airborne, and the first service of the flight had been completed, I reclined in the leather seat and took my yellow book out for a quick read.

  "What's that you're reading?" Rick asked, twisting the light switch above his head.

  "Only the book that brought us together." I ran my fingertip lovingly across the title, feeling at once happy and relieved.

  "Not that garbage again!” Rick stopped playing with the switch and turned to look at me. "You really believe in all that stuff, don’t ya?" I noticed the light above his head appeared to illuminate brighter, casting an almost angelic glow over the two of us.

  "If it wasn't for this garbage, you wouldn't be sitting in First-Class with me now, would you?" Cheeky git! I thought, as the light above us bounced off my diamond wedding ring and flashed across the aircraft ceiling. Rick and I exchanged glances. I was sick of him calling my book ‘garbage’ and on this special day—our wedding day—I wasn’t prepared to let it go.

  Sensing my discomfort, Rick mumbled under his breath, "S'pose you got a point." He took the yellow book from my grasp and let it fall casually to the cabin floor. Leaning in for a kiss, I didn't protest. I'm sure the stewardess with the broad, red-painted smile had seen it all before.

  ***

  We had met just six weeks earlier in the department store where I worked as an account manager for a leading beauty brand. Rick had walked towards me, full of swagger and self-confidence and asked me for directions to the Hermes Counter. From his accent, I guessed he was an east coast American. My ear had become tuned to years of watching the Housewives of New York City. I had sent him off in the direction of the counter before taking the opportunity to take a quick read of the yellow book. I hid it under a pile of paperwork making sure to keep it well under wraps. I opened at a new chapter and read the words, “Taking a chance is the first step on the ladder of success.” The words flitted in and out of my mind as I had drifted into a reverie, recalling past memories. Wracking my brain, I tried to think of times when I had taken a chance, but to my annoyance I couldn't think of anything that stood out from my childhood. Moments passed… I looked up to see the same man staring at me, the American. He had returned.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” I asked.

  “I have now,” he replied, his brown eyes glinting wickedly.

  It was instant attraction. When he asked if I wanted to go for a coffee after work, I shook off my normally shy demeanour and found the courage to say ‘yes.’

  The rest, as they say, is history.

  ***

  The flight passed quickly, hurtling me towards my new life in New York City. The thought was both immensely exhilarating and oddly frightening at the same time. Rick sat by my side, snoring. Loudly. Everything would be fine for him. He was returning home to the life that he had left behind only six weeks ago. I gazed at the outline of his face. His tanned skin bore some little indentations and pock marks left over from his teenage years, but overall, he was wearing well. He told me he was 35 years old, a fact authenticated by his Fed-Exed birth certificate. (I had no reason not to believe him, although I had occasionally caught myself wondering why such a good-looking man was still single and childless.)

  I banished that thought to the back of my mind as I became aware that the other passengers in the cabin were looking over at us. Rick’s snoring had become noticeably louder. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I realized that the potent mix of being newly married and consuming four Tanqueray Gins at an altitude of 30,000 feet had proved a little too much for my new husband.

  As we flew ever closer to our destination, I began to think about my own situation; there I was, living alone in a rented flat in the west end of Glasgow My parents had died in a car crash when I was just eight years old, leaving me to bear the full brunt of years in foster care. It had been a miserable existence as I was shunted from family to family and from pillar to post, hoping that some day a loving family would adopt me…it never happened.

  Rick’s surprise marriage proposal had shaken me to the core, but I hadn’t needed to think twice. In the short time I had known him, he had proven himself to be one big surprise that I just couldn’t let go of.

  As expected, everyone I spoke to had an opinion, most of them negative. A few of my colleagues told me I was crazy to be leaving Glasgow behind to jet off into the sunset with a man I barely knew. Deep down, I knew they were all wrong.

  I’d like to see them in my position…would they have said no? I don’t bloody think so!

  A creeping thought snuck into my frontal lobe most people would have given it more time, Willow. I shrugged it off and took another sip of the bubbling champagne. Too late now!

  Not surprisingly, my flat-mate, Geneviève, had the most to say about my imminent departure.

  "You can't go off and leave me; what the hell am I going to do?" or “This is all the thanks I get for renting you a room? Now what am I going to do?” She couldn’t have cared less about my happiness; all she could think of was herself. Geneviève was the ‘pretty one.’ The one who always got what she wanted when we went clubbing. Now, she would have to find someone else to be her wing woman

  I had made up my mind. No-one would have been able to change it. I was about to fly the nest, and no-one was going to stop me.

  Rick's snores grew louder, to the annoyance of our fellow first-class passengers who, like us, were flying on the business expense account. Looking around me, I felt like an outsider. I bet that not one of these privileged, entitled passengers had ever had to think about how they would scrape together enough money to buy a sandwich for lunch. Now, my life was about to chang
e for the better!

  What had surprised me the most about our whirlwind wedding had been Rick's ‘no expense spared' attitude towards getting me whatever I needed. Every purchase had been put on his credit card. He flashed it at every opportunity. It was black. One of the girls on the shop floor told me she had seen that type of card before and that it was very exclusive. Only a few managed to obtain one. I remember how she had looked at me when she said that. She looked like she wanted to be me. It was the first time in my life that I realised someone wanted to be me. Willow Campbell, pushing 33, slightly plump for my 5ft 7 and three quarters of an inch frame. Facial features scarred by a brush with a basal cell carcinoma. But looking on the positive side of life I had acquired an inherent skill for making myself look borderline glamorous. I was a skilled makeup artist who had learned every trick in the book over my eight-year long career working behind cosmetics counters in stores all around the Glasgow area.

  Looking over at Rick, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Here was a man who loved me so much that he was willing to propose after such a short time. And here I was, finally finding myself ready to embark on this huge commitment called ‘marriage’ without even giving it so much as a second thought. The unhappy cloud that had been hanging over me for such a long time had finally been banished to wherever it was that unhappy clouds came from. Now, when I looked up at the sky, I could finally see the sunshine.

  Twenty minutes into our journey through the streets of New York and after what seemed like an age stuck in traffic, our grubby yellow cab with the cracked leather seats pulled up in front of the entrance to a towering brown bricked building in what looked like, to my untrained eyes, an insalubrious part of town. I peered out of the window, then looked over at Rick.

  "Is this it?" I asked

  Surely not, I thought. No matter how hard I tried, there was no way in hell I could disguise the notes of disappointment in my voice.

  "This is it. Home Sweet Home." Rick stared over the top of my head and looked wistfully at his apartment home.

  "I thought you said you lived in Manhattan?” I queried, hoping against hopes there had been some dreadful mistake.

  Rick grinned from ear to ear, "I do." I followed his gaze as he stared up at an apartment window nearing the top of the building.

  He smirked as he pointed to the sign above the entrance to the apartment building ‘Manhattan Heights!’

  “Home Sweet Home.”

  Only the 'H' and 'E' were missing, and an ‘N’ had been crudely spray painted in making the sign read 'Manhattan Nights'.

  Sucking up my disappointment, I carefully climbed out of the cab, putting my best Repetto Ballet Pump forward, trying not to look how I felt. A blast of ice-cold wind whipped around me, taking my breath away as Rick led the way into the apartment building lobby, dragging two huge suitcases behind him. I followed on behind him, taking everything in at once. As I closed the apartment building door behind me, I saw that much to Rick’s annoyance, there was an ‘out of order’ sign placed across the elevator door.

  So, this is why New York women are so skinny, I calculated. Everything makes perfect sense now. Thinking I had just come up with the perfect title for a woman’s non-fiction book, I was startled out of my thoughts as Rick led me over to a honey coloured wooden bench that was pushed up against the lobby wall.

  "Sit your boney ass down over there while I take the cases up...I might be a while; when I get back, we’ll go for brunch."

  "But Rick, I want to see the apartment." I stared at him squarely on. I hadn’t waited all this time to be told I had to wait some more.

  Rick smirked, "You'll have all the time in the world to see it, trust me, and you don't want to do this climb after a transatlantic flight." Relenting, he put his arms around me, cosseting me it seemed, from all New York City’s unpleasantness. "I'll be down in 10.”

  Huddling under my thin coat, I sat on the lobby bench and leaned against the great expanse of faux marble lining the wall. It was a shame really; my grand entrance in the Big Apple hadn't been the glamorous event I had conjured up in my imagination all these weeks.

  As I waited, my mind flicked vigorously over the days preceding our departure and the build up to our big day. The yellow book had had a huge part to play.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Rick finally re-appeared, whisking me from my daydream state straight back to the present, red in the face and seriously out of breath.

  "Six weeks. That's all it takes. Six weeks in Glasgow and my fitness is gone," he panted, wiping a smattering of dust from his navy-blue pea coat.

  "It must have been all those fish suppers washed down with lashings of Irn Bru!" I said, grabbing him around his slightly paunchy waistline. Patting him on the stomach, I smirked, "Or perhaps it was those pineapple cakes from Greggs that did the trick!"

  "But look at what I gained,” Rick gazed into my eyes, wiping a wisp of brunette hair away, “- a brand new wife!" He planted a kiss squarely on my lips. "Come on, let's go! I've got a lot to show you." Leading me out towards the icy sidewalk, Rick put his two fingers in his mouth and hailed us a cab with the kind of nonchalance that only a native New Yorker could muster.

  "Park Avenue, please!” he told the cabbie.

  Thirty minutes later, the drama of our arrival soon forgotten, we found ourselves huddled on a rickety bench in front of Cafe on Park Avenue. The chic little cafe had a window display that looked like something straight out of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, with cupcakes piled high on dainty wire cake stands. I snuggled into the warmth of his neck, inhaling the faint fragrance of cedar and vetiver, as I stood and contemplated the amazing dream-like life I had suddenly found myself walking into. This time though, I, Willow Campbell-Delgado, had the starring role. No more watching from the sidelines, no more hoping, praying and wishing for a better life.

  Perfectly located for a spot of people watching, we sipped our ice cold Peroni whilst nibbling on tiny portions of bruschetta, accompanied by dainty bowls of olive tapenade. The citizens of New York City strutted, strolled and jogged past us enroute to their various appointments with their hairdresser, doctor, or personal trainer. A particularly elegant looking woman, dressed in an expensive camel coat, caught my attention. As she strutted confidently towards us, I studied how she kept her balance in those towering heels and admired the bounce in her hair as she walked. I wonder if this is how I might look after a few months spent as Rick's wife.

  Snapping me abruptly out of my daydream, Rick stood up abruptly and announced, “Be back in five, got to take this call” I sipped the last few dregs of my beer, yawning as the jet lag kicked in. Now, all I could think of was climbing into a huge king-sized bed, and relaxing between crisply laundered Ralph Lauren sheets, before falling into a deeply restful slumber entwined in Rick's arms.

  Just as I was about to light my imaginary Jo Malone candle, Rick returned, wearing an expression I had never seen before.

  “Em…do you have your credit card on you? Or is it in one of the suitcases?”

  Rick looked embarrassed as I rummaged around in my bum bag or ‘fanny pack’ as the Americans like to call it. I handed the card over to him, feeling relieved that I had managed to clear the balance before leaving for the USA.

  As Rick paid the bill, I realized there was a lot I didn't know about my new husband, but I consoled myself that with time on our side, these looks and expressions would soon become second nature to both of us. Of that I was sure. Rick grabbed my hand and pulled my now weary body up out of the spindly chair.

  "C'mon babe! You look tired. Let's go home."

  Arriving back at ‘Manhattan Nights’ for the second time that day, I prayed inwardly for a small miracle - that the lift would be working. Both Rick and I had been nowhere near a gym since the day we met, and I had the added pounds to prove it. But there was to be no way around it. Fourteen flights later, my legs shook, my head spun, and visible beads of sweat dripped from my foreh
ead. As Rick, who looked like he was in a similar state to me, went to put his key in the door, it took all my might to find the necessary breath to stop him.

  "Just a minute!" I gasped, holding onto my knees as I looked down at my swollen ankles, "Wait a wee minute."

  Rick took the key out of the lock and shot me an exasperated look.

  Squaring up to him, I placed my hands on my hips and breathing heavily exhaled loudly, "Well? Aren’t you going to?"

  "Aren't I gonna what, for Chrissakes?"

  I felt my face fall. How could he possibly not know what I want?

  "Carry me over the threshold?"

  Thick, damp-filled air hung heavily around us as I awaited his answer. Rick frowned as he registered what I was asking him to do. Then he looked me up and down like a physicist making a complicated calculation before deciding whether to go ahead with the experiment. It was evident from his body language that he thought I was too fat to be picked up.

  He erupted, slamming the side of the door with the palm of his hand, as biting peals of laughter rang out of him.

  Cheeky git! How dare he? I’ve been on Weightwatchers for the past month!

  "What's so funny?" I asked, grim-faced, sucking in my abs for good effect.

  "You gotta be joking me, Willow!” he gasped, trying to straighten his face into a serious looking expression.

  Silence.

  "You're not joking, are you?" He cocked one eyebrow as he attempted to regain his composure, but I could tell another rolling bout of laughter was threatening to erupt.

  "Christ almighty, Rick! Isn't this what every woman wants?" Now it was my turn to second-guess myself. Isn’t this what every woman wants, or have I just been watching too many romantic movies?

  Finally registering the look of disappointment on my face, Rick took a step towards me, then, catching me by surprise, scooped me up. That’s more like it!

  The walls swayed as Rick staggered one step forward then two faster steps back, “Jesus! Willow!"

  "Whoa there! Steady!" I screamed hysterically as we lolled from side to side like a ship at sea navigating the swells of the ocean. Regaining his balance, and holding his collection of mail in his mouth, Rick somehow managed to put the key in the door and open it while I held on tightly with my arms around his neck, secretly loving the absolute romance of it all. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me! I’m having the time of my life!