by Shyla Colt
He nods. “I think we might have enough here to bring him in and keep him. I’ll get to work on this. Expect to be hearing from me, Mr. Hemnway.”
“I look forward to it, Detective.”
Burying my head in the sand when this man almost took my life isn’t an option.
Chapter Four
Quinn
Going back to work is odd. This is my first job since everything happened. I felt a mental break was in order. My locations can be odd, and the hours even stranger. The last thing I wanted to do was freak out on set. I’m starting out small with a wedding party. I should be happy. Instead, I’m nervous. I’ve been watching the road for signs of a car following me from the minute I left the house. Detective Kunes disclosure ate away even more of my sense of security. Men like the ones he mentioned don’t seem the type to leave loose ends dangling, and that’s exactly what I am.
Maybe they’re convinced I don’t remember anything or I’m too scared to talk. It’s a double-edged sword. If they’ve forgotten about me, testifying will place me back on their radar. If they’re biding my time, it’ll give me access to protection. I’ve been going back and forth with it in my head and drawing a blank. I’m a pros and cons list type. In this case, I have no way of knowing all the details.
I pull in front of the cute, bungalow-style home where the bride and her party will be getting their makeup done. Putting the car in park, I take a deep breath as I put on my business face. It’s all about the bride, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure Amanda Thomas gets the best possible send off to a new life.
I step out of the car, smooth down my knee-length black dress, and grab my makeup kit from the back seat. I scan the area. It’s a nice neighborhood with neatly cut green lawns, small but well-kept homes, and mid-grade cars. I feel safe here. There’s no one who seems out of place, and I haven’t seen the same car for the entire drive.
I roll my shoulders, eager to get back to work. My three-inch heels click over the asphalt as I make my way onto the sidewalk and up the stone pathway that leads up to the white home. I ring the doorbell and I’m swept into the joy of the day as her mother welcomes me in.
With her wide smile and high volume big hair full of curls added by a crap ton of comb-teasing and hairspray, Mrs. Thomas is the quintessential southern woman. Her makeup is flawless, and her ice blue dress shows off her slender frame and the glow of her honey skin.
“You must be Quinn. Please, come in, come in. We are so excited to have you working for us. You came highly recommended. I’m Mrs. Thompson, Amanda’s mother.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Thomas,” I say, shaking her hand.
“The girls are sipping mimosas in the living room. I set up a table and chair for you by the French doors because of the natural light.” I follow her in nodding my head. I know from the tone of her email she’s a woman who likes to be in charge, so I’ll be taking my cues from her while giving Amanda exactly what she wants for her special day. I’m used to dealing with mothers who don’t know how to let go. The mother-in-law might be the one who makes life hell after the wedding, but during the nuptials, it’s usually the mother of the bride.
Amanda is seated in the center of the couch in a white silk robe that has an embroidered blue B on her chest, and her brides are in light blue robes with their names on it. Their champagne glasses are full, and the laughter and flowing conversation fills the space with good vibes. Amanda fixes me with her almond-shaped hazel eyes and beams. It’s a look of love I wonder if I’ll ever wear.
“Amanda, this is Quinn.”
“It’s so good to finally meet you.” Amanda stands. She’s petite with a heart-shaped face, and curves most woman would kill for. She holds out her hand, and I shake it.
“I’m pleased to be here. Tell me, what do you envision for your day?”
She glances over my shoulder at her mother, and I keep my gaze pinned to her, refusing to differ. I can’t tell her I’m on her side with my words, but I’m hoping my eyes get the message across. Her grin widens.
“I really love the makeup from the 20s ... dramatic eyes, tinted cheeks, and a bold lip. I want to do that with the girls, but played down with a lighter lip color.”
I glance at the four girls, make a note of their skin tones, and mentally riffle through the shades in my kit.
“I can do that. I think it’ll look fabulous on each of them, especially with the bridesmaid dresses you chose.”
“Thank you.”
“What about your look?”
“I want the same style, but amped up. Bold red lips that won’t stain my husband’s mouth and fake lashes. Basically, the whole nine yards.”
I laugh. “I’d be happy to do that. Would you like to go first?”
“No, I’d like to get them taken care of first so they can help keep me from freaking out.”
I laugh. “You got it, boss. Let me get set up over there, and we’ll get everything started.”
The bridal party is a riot. Quick-witted and boisterous, they’ve kept me laughing as I go down the line.
“So your life must be pretty glamorous, Quinn. We’re going to need the dets,” her maid of honor, Brittany, says. The sassy redhead with bright green eyes wasn’t the type to pull punches.
I laugh. “I wish I could validate your statement, but it’s not true. I love doing beauty makeup. But my real passion is prosthetics and horror, so usually I’m up to my neck in blood and guts.”
Amanda barks a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah. As my friend Ollie says, I make monsters.”
“That’s cool and creepy at the same time,” Summer drawls from the chair where I’m adding a base to her chocolaty skin.
I laugh. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“So you work a lot on movie sets?” Abby asks. The tall blonde it the next in cue.
“As much as I can. I want to break into movies one day, but until then I have to pay the bills. I’m lucky to get to do what I love, so I’ve no complaints.”
“Have you met a lot of actors?” Amanda asks.
“I have, mostly up and comers.”
The topic shifts to me and I answer their questions as I apply foundation and set it with translucent powder, or bake as some like to call the process.
“It must make dating hard. All the traveling and odd work hours,” Amanda observes as she gets in the chair.
“It does, but you can make it work. My best friend is a makeup artist, too, and she and her husband are madly in love. It’s kind of sickening, but she deserves it.”
Amanda laughs. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, Ms. Gore Ambassador. Is there someone special in your life?” Amanda asks.
It’s the same question every bride asks me. When you’re in love, you think the rest of the world should be, too. The reality is, some of us never find the one. My mind flashes to Ollie—the only man I’ve been around recently.
“Nope. I haven’t found that one yet. But I’m hopeful.”
“Oh, your story has to be as interesting as you are. I bet you met him on a set,” Brittany says dreamily.
Their optimism amuses me. After the last month I had, I do not feel like the glass is half full.
“You never know. Look up for me,” I say as I line her bright eyes with a pencil.
The girls are a breath of fresh air, and I’m kind of sad to say good-bye when I finish the final stroke of my brush on Amanda’s lips.
“Perfection, darling,” I say as I hand her a large mirror.
“Oh my God.” She places a hand on her chest. “I cannot believe that is me.”
“I just helped what was inside come out a little more.” I give her a wink.
She turns her head slowly to the left and right, adjusting the mirror to take it all in. My heart swells with pride. I love helping someone see the beauty inside of them they’ve overlooked. I don’t think people need makeup, but I believe accentuating our best features
can change the way we feel about ourselves. And who doesn’t like to play dress up every now and then? Besides, we all need a boost and a pick me up from time to time. There are days I don’t think I could go outside without frightening folks if it wasn’t for concealer.
“This is a twenty-four-hour non-smudge. You won’t need to apply anymore or worry about it transferring to anything, okay?”
She nods and I reach in my bag, removing an unopened box with a tiny bow. “That being said, I want you to have something to remember this day from me.”
“You are so sweet, Quinn. Thank you for everything,” she exclaims, opening the box and removing a tube of lipstick that matches the one she’s wearing.
“Are you kidding me? You guys are a blast. This felt more like a girl’s day out than a day at work. You ladies rock so hard. If you ever need me to do your makeup for a special day, please don’t hesitate to call.”
I finish saying my good-byes and move to the door feeling lighter than I have in days. I make the choice to put Detective Kunes and the D.A.C. out of my mind and ride out the streak of happiness that came into my life unexpectedly.
I’M BARELY IN THE APARTMENT when my phone rings and Ollie’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hey, Ollie, what’s up?”
“We got the pictures back from the shoot.”
“And how are they?” I ask cautiously.
“Really good. As the head of PR, it’s my job to go through them and decide which we’re going to use. I thought maybe you could come over and look them over with me.”
“I could, but it’ll cost you.”
“Umm, okay?”
I laugh. “I just got done with a gig, and I’m starving. If you order a pizza, I’m there.”
“I can do that. What toppings?”
“I’m a purest ... pepperoni and cheese?”
“Done. When can I expect you?”
“Give me twenty minutes, I have to change.”
“Okay, I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t be, its heels and a little black dress.”
“You sure you have to change?”
My eyes widen. Is he really making a move on me right now?
“I’ll be overdressed if I don’t, unless you plan on putting on a dress shirt and slacks.”
“Next time.”
His cocky attitude makes me smile. He sounds like the Ollie I first met.
“Promises, promises. See you soon, Ollie.” I hang up feeling a bit of my swagger return. I still got it.
I kick off my heels and hurry to my room, slipping out of my dress. The promise of food and good company hastens my movements. After throwing on an old pair of blue jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt that hints at my cleavage without showing too much, I slip on my socks and black and white tennis shoes. It’s casual yet plays up my best attributes. I’m not looking for anything to happen, but it doesn’t hurt to put a little effort in. The attraction between us has been muted by circumstances, but it’s still there. I check my makeup and apply a little more powder before I head out.
OLLIE
I hurry around the house straightening up things that are out of place. It feels good to be back to work, even if it's from home. I’ll hit the shop next week. Whether I’m ready for it or not. This will be my first time looking at the shoot. It’s like a ‘before my life changed forever’ photo. It only seems right I share this with Quinn. The thing about internal scars is on the outside looking in, you appear fine. So no one truly understands the complete metamorphosis you’re going through. Like a caterpillar emerging from a cocoon, I’m a completely different human being now. Even I am uncertain of how deep that change runs.
I toss my last dirty shirt into the hamper in my room and move to the bathroom. I’m fairly neat, but this busy work helps me keep my nerves in check. Satisfied with my clean up job, I order the pizza and park myself in front of the desk where the photos await.
I used to love this part of my job, deciding what images and events would strengthen our brand and get the right kind of potential clients in. I’m a people person. I get the way they think and what they want. This allowed me to use the skills that came naturally to me while remaining artistic. The co-running of the day-to-day operations is just the price I have to pay to do what I love.
I scrub my face with my hand. I’ve missed a lot in the past month. Part of me is worried about going back and picking up where I left off. I’ve never had this much down time since Maloney Mechanic’s inception. We worked out asses off making a name for ourselves and bringing in enough work to pay the bills. I never could’ve imagined we’d end up being one of the top car restoration shops in our state. I’m proud of what Houston and I have accomplished. Everyone thought we were two best friends playing at being business owners.
I guess we showed them. If two men in their mid-thirties can take a chance and turn it into a goldmine, I can get over this and move forward. There’s a real fear that the robber stole a piece of my soul I’ll never get back. It’ll take up to six months minimum for me to fully heal. I understand that, but I don’t feel like myself. The soreness is fading, the physical therapy is continuing twice a week, and yet I’m no closer to being whole. Closing my eyes, I massage my temples as the stress of unanswered questions becomes an invisible vise threatening to squeeze my brain.
A knock sounds and I’m grateful for the distraction it provides. The woman on the other side of my door is a highlight. With her full lips, quick wit, and all too tempting packaging, she occupies more of my thoughts during my waking hours—and some of my sleeping—than she should.
I stride toward the door and open it up with a smile. “I’m glad you came.”
“We’ll see if you’re still saying that when I eat you out of house and home. Did you order two larges?”
I smirk. “I did.”
She pats my shoulder and steps inside. “Good man.”
I take in the jeans hugging her thick ass and lick my lips. Even casually dressed, she makes my blood heat. I lock the door behind her and spin on my heels.
“I have us set up in the office. The first step is to look at them.”
“Wait, you haven’t yet?” she asks, and I hear the surprise in her voice.
“No. This is like a snapshot in time before shit got too real. I didn’t want to go there without you.”
She slips her hands into mine. “I get it. I’m here.”
I keep our hands linked as I guide her through the house to my office.
“Oh, dude, this is amazing. Is that you?”
Following her gaze to a collage of me during my skateboarding circuit years, I laugh. “Oh yeah, I was a professional skateboarder for over ten years.”
“That does not surprise me one bit. How the hell did you end up in the car business?”
“You can only ride that wave for so long. I was missing my family, and Houston, my best friend, was starting up this new venture. I’d already invested money when I decided I wanted to have a more hands-on role as well. He was gracious and invited me in. We built this thing up with hard work, time, and buckets of sweat. He’s got a mind for business ... not so much on the creative spectrum.”
“Which is where you come in.”
“Correct. I also handle some of the day-to-day operation, but that’s the necessary evils.”
“You’re a freaking onion like Shrek.”
“What?” I ask.
“Layers, Ollie. You got a bunch of layers.”
“So does cake, and it tastes a hell of a lot better than an onion.”
She laughs. “I don’t choose the movie quotes. They choose me when the time is right.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Pot meet kettle?” she says. “Since you let me in on your first day back to work, I have to tell you mine was today, too.”
“Oh, on a movie set?”
“I wish. No, it was a bridal party.”
“How did it go?” I ask, searching her face or signs of alarm.
“Better than usual. The girls were a riot, and the bride, Amanda, was adorable. They made me remember why I love this gig so much. When you remind someone who has forgotten about their inner beauty, it’s a magical thing, and in this case, I’m helping them bring their dreams to life. Most women dream of their wedding day their entire lives. Being a part of giving them that fairytale experience is a special thing.”
“I’m going to pretend I get that,” I say.
She laughs. “I appreciate your attempt.”
“It’s so different for dudes.”
“I know. But to be honest, I never dreamt of mine.”
“Were you married?” I ask, interested in the response.
“Almost. We didn’t quite make it down the aisle, but that was a good thing. We fell in love young, and I was blind to his many flaws.”
“Let me guess. The people closest to you weren’t?”
“Nope, and they don’t let me forget it either,” she mumbles.
“That’s how family works, man. There’s nothing like them, but their memories are unforgiving.”
“Exactly,” she crows.
“You’ve met Rolly’s mother, Allie. My family was never keen on her, and after she got pregnant they did nothing to hide their disappointment. Except for my mom. No matter what, she’s always been on my side. Even if I'm a dumbass, she lets me know she doesn’t agree with my choices, but will always be there.”
“She sounds amazing.”
“She is,” I agree. My mom and I are thick as thieves. That’s what happens when you have a broken family with clearly drawn battlefields.
“Okay, I could spend a day exploring things in your office. We should probably get to work, so we can eat.”
“You’re right.” The room shrinks in around us, and I take a shaky breath. This feels like a momentous occasion. I release her hand and walk to the desk, pulling out the spare chair I’d brought over.
“Sweet set up,” she says sitting beside me in front of the double monitors.
“Thanks. I splurged a few years back. It helps to be able to compare images side by side.” My fingers fly over the keys as I log in and pull up the images on the thumb drive. “All of the photos are edited and ready to go. We’re looking to replace the banner on the site, post some in the newsletter, and do a sneak peek of what’s coming in the calendar. Then I need to pick twelve for each month next year.”