Bear Faced Liar

by Alice Coldbreath

  Her phone gave another blip and Pris found she had been added to a messenger group called ‘Bettina’s Belles’. It seemed to be her fellow staff members from the beauty parlor.

  Lois: Hey honey, welcome to the group. Billie and me are watching GPB as per your rec.

  GPB? Thought Pris, wracking her brain. Then she realized, ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’.

  Billie: My fav scene is the gym no. with JR!! She’s awesome!

  ‘Enjoy’, typed Pris. ‘Gonna see if I can find anything good to watch’. She switched on Jared’s TV. The vintage selection was a bit limited, but she selected one, after a bit of searching. ‘I’m watching ‘How to marry a Millionaire’, she updated the group. Her phone blipped and to her surprise she saw Bettina joining in.

  Bettina: Just love me some Lauren Bacall. Classy dame.

  Lois: Is that the one with Betty Grable and the ranger? She kills me!

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen this one’, Pris typed, settling in. It wasn’t cold, but she really wished she had a fleecy blanket or a cushion to snuggle up with. Her phone blipped, and Lois sent through a picture of a glass of white wine and a glass of soda, captioned ‘Cheers gals’. This was fast followed by a photo from Bettina of a rum and coke. ‘Carole-Ann’s photo has 570 likes!’ she’d typed. Maybe it was Bettina updating the comments after all. ‘Good work Pris and Billie!’ Billie sent a smiley face. ‘Thanks Bettina’. Pris sent a love-heart and ‘Best 1st day ever!’ ‘Dream team’ typed Lois.

  The next hour passed in a flurry of messages which kept a happy smile on Pris’ face. Carole-Ann sent her a selfie of her stood in front of five guys at a bar with a ‘who knew?’ look on her face. ‘Everybody’s buying me drinks tonight at Elmer’s’ was the accompanying text. ‘-he hell’s that about?!’

  ‘Don’t drink too many’ Pris typed back in alarm. ‘U said you’d got the early shift at Misty’s tomorrow’.

  ‘Relax g-friend’ was Carole-Ann’s reply. ‘I’m a bear shifter. Ain’t a one of these guys could out-drink me.’

  Pris had to content herself with a ‘Stay safe x’. Carole-Ann’s hair and make-up looked immaculate, but her outfit still left a lot to be desired. They needed to go clothes shopping to get her something feminine, she decided. Baggy jeans and a plaid shirt was criminal with that face.

  Every so often she rolled onto her side to look over her shoulder at the clock in the kitchen. Jared had been gone an hour and a half now, the film was just winding up. Pris had to switch on a lamp as darkness was falling. As the end credits were running she heard a rattle of the door, then the sound of a key in the lock. Jared came through the door looking disheveled.

  “Hey,” she greeted him.

  He turned and shut the door behind him. “Hey yourself,” he said, his voice low and rough. He headed to the refrigerator and snagged a beer. He held it up with a questioning look.

  Pris wrinkled her nose. “Do I normally drink beer?” she asked.

  He seemed to consider this for a moment. “We should have bought you wine,” he rumbled. “White.”

  Her frown cleared. “We can get some for the weekend.”

  He stepped out of his boots and made his way through, heading straight toward her. Pris edged over on the sofa, making room for him, and he slid right into her space, his arm wrapping around her to draw her in close to him. Pris curled around him with a sigh.

  “What’re we watching?” he asked.

  “This? It just finished. Me and the girls at work are on a vintage movie kick.”

  “Girls at work?” he seemed to find that amusing for some reason, and took a swig of his beer.

  “What kind of movies do you like?”

  “Ah...” he scratched his head. “Action movies, I guess.”

  “Well, I already picked one movie tonight, so you choose.” She passed him the remote and he started scrolling through the options. Pris hooked a leg over his and ran a fluffy sock over his calf. “I thought I needed a comforter, but you’re throwing out a lot of heat,” she said appreciatively.

  He cleared his throat. “You want me to turn up the heating?”

  She shook her head. “This is cozy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh. Did you pick a movie yet?” He looked distracted. Pris reached across him for his beer and took a sip of it. He sucked in a breath and then exhaled noisily. “You okay?” she asked.

  “You’re not wearing a bra,” he commented somewhat randomly.

  “Well, no,” admitted Pris. “I’m in comfort mode.”

  “Comfort mode?”

  “You know. Stretchy pants, fluffy socks, no bra? Didn’t we do chill-time together before?” she frowned. Then a horrible thought occurred to her. “Oh god,” she said, sitting up straight. He gave a grumble of displeasure at the loss of contact. She turned her body to face him. “Oh shoot! Are we not at that point in our relationship?”

  “What point?” he echoed, clearly mystified.

  “The point where I let you see me like a slob?”

  He nearly choked on his beer.

  “Do I still wear full make-up for you and put on hot pants when we watch TV?” her voice rose. “Let me just-“

  His arm shot out, pulling her back against him. “You don’t look like a slob, Pristine. You couldn’t even if you tried.”

  “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

  He shrugged. “Cos you look so pretty. And I like having you here.”

  She felt her mouth fall open. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, and I like how affectionate you are. Spontaneous. It’s real nice.”

  Pris stared at him. “Wasn’t I affectionate toward you before?” she asked slowly.

  “Not like this.”

  “Maybe I was shy?” she suggested, then remembered she was a stripper. Still, he didn’t rubbish the idea. “Maybe I didn’t feel secure before? But now we’re living together…”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “Whatever the reason, I like it. I like it a lot.” His big hand slid under her sweater at her back and just rested there against her skin. He selected a movie and pressed play.

  Pris re-settled back against him. The movie started with a car chase. Maybe she should have had a beer. As if reading her thoughts, he passed her his bottle and she took another sip before handing it back to him. She watched his adam’s apple bob in his throat as he took a deep draught. “I should get you some fluffy socks to match mine,” she murmured, looking down at their feet. Jared’s were clad in boring grey socks. He just quirked an eyebrow at her. “What do you say to couple’s socks, for when we chill out?”

  “Sure,” he didn’t even think about it. For some reason, that made her really happy. The film was actually pretty good, and Pris got into it, much to her surprise. She didn’t think she’d be into action movies for some reason. “I like the French cop guy,” she said. “He’s my favorite.”

  “Yeah,” Jared agreed. “I think he’s in both the sequels.”

  “That’s good. Is it the same love interest in the sequels?”

  “Nah, different women in both sequels.”

  “That’s so annoying! I hate when they do that.”

  Jared laughed, and she elbowed him in the ribs. “Why do they do that?”

  “Action film sequels aren’t always great for their continuity,” he suggested.

  She turned to look him full in the face, before turning back to the screen.

  “What?” He squeezed her hip.

  “I thought you were going to tell me action films were made for men, and full of fast cars and women.”

  He shrugged, wisely keeping silent.

  “Is it the same BMW in the sequels?” she asked tipping her head back and narrowing her eyes.

  He paused. “No, babe. It’s an Audi A8 in the sequel.”

  Her expression cleared. “Oh, well, that’s alright then.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, if he’d kept the same car and changed his women, I’d have been pissed.”<
br />
  He laughed.

  Pris’ phone blipped and she reached for it. It was a friend request from Deb, Jared’s cousin’s wife. She accepted it and flashed the screen at Jared. “Deb,” she said. He grunted, and she put the phone on silent and put it on the arm of the chair. “Do we need to set up some rules around movie nights and phones?” she asked.

  “You tell me.”

  “I do seem to be quite popular,” she joked, turning her head to look at him.

  He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lips. “Let me up, babe.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to get another beer.”

  “I can get it.” She got up and walked across to the kitchen. “Do you want anything else?”

  “There’s some chips in the cupboard over the sink.”

  Pris reached up for the potato chips, and then searched around for a bowl.

  “What you looking for?”

  “Serving bowls?”

  “Pretty sure we don’t own any.”

  The cupboards did seem pretty bare, she noticed and made a mental note. She handed Jared his beer and opened the bag of chips, setting them down on the sofa beside him. “We could use a small table maybe?” she suggested, sitting down between his spread thighs. “To put drinks and snacks on.”

  “Sounds good,” he agreed.

  “Maybe I could go back to the mall, once I get my pay check?”

  He frowned. “Don’t want you spending your money on that,” he said. “We can go together after work tomorrow if you want?”

  “I don’t mind spending my money on us,” she objected.

  “You might have to work a month in hand,” he pointed out.

  “Not for my trial week.”

  “Hmm, we’ll see.”

  “Don’t you think Bettina will take me on?” she asked.

  “Babe, I saw that waitress’s face,” he said. “She’d be a damn fool not to.”

  She relaxed back against him and he wound an arm around her waist. They watched the rest of the movie and then Jared took another shower and Pris got back into her shorty PJs and into bed. He sure does take a lot of showers. Was that a shifter thing? She preferred to take her shower in the morning, so she could wash and style her hair before work. At least, she thought she did. Today, she told herself, is the first day of the rest of my life and fell asleep listening to the comforting sound of the rain pattering on the roof of the trailer.

  **

  Pris drove herself in to work the next morning and was feeling happy and confident in her white shorts and white ditsy blouse with the mint green dots and frills. A little gold belt would have completed the ensemble, but she could get one later. She was wearing her gold gladiator sandals again and had done her smoky eyes to perfection. She’d also washed and blown out her hair with the hot air styler and was pleased with the results. As soon as she walked through the beauty parlor door she was accosted.

  “Come see this, Pris,” said Billie catching her hand and pulling her over to Bettina’s chair. Sat on it was a large black and white studio photograph of a gorgeous brunette with big hair and loads of eyeliner. She was wearing a black dress with a wide skirt and stared out of the canvas with a bold, knowing stare.

  “Oh my God, Bettina. You look gorgeous!” breathed Pris, recognizing her boss at once.

  The older woman gave a crack of laughter. “Well, in my heyday…”

  “I love the beauty spot!” said Pris looking from the canvas to Bettina.

  “Used to draw it on with an eye pencil.”

  “We want her to have it mounted here on the wall, behind her spot,” said Lois.

  Pris nodded enthusiastically. “I think that would be fantastic!” It would certainly be an improvement on the yellowing poster that was currently there.

  “I don’t know about that…” said Bettina. “Everyone will just be comparing me to what an old crow I am now!”

  “You should all have one!” said Pris, as inspiration struck. “Pictures done post Hollywood glam make-over.”

  Lois breathed out. “Yes! We could put them up instead of these tired old magazine photos!”

  “We’d have to dress up though!” said Billie, turning bright red. “Like classic movie stars in vintage outfits, like Bettina’s.”

  “Oh, could we?” asked Lois, turning to Bettina. “They have a vintage fair over in Tipton on the first Saturday of the month. We could see if we could pick up some bits and pieces from there.”

  “Well…” wavered Bettina, who was clearly taken aback by the enthusiasm of her employees.

  “Say yes, Bettina!” implored Billie. “I have a friend at school, Patrick. He’s doing photography. He could come and take the pictures and use it for his college portfolio.”

  Bettina blinked. “We-ell… I guess it couldn’t hurt with our Hollywood glamor makeover promotion,” she conceded.

  “Bettina honey,” said Pris urgently. “There’s a queue. Outside our door.” She pointed to their door where indeed, there was a crowd gathering.

  “-the hell…?” murmured Bettina, staring out the window. “Pris, go and flip the sign to ‘open’ and then - Billie, get them written into the appointment book.”

  “On it,” Pris ran and grabbed her tabard. The door made a tinkling sound as the first person came through.

  “I want one of those porn star makeovers,” announced an elderly woman in a floral print. “Like what that Shackleton gal had.”

  It was one of those mornings. Pris was run off her feet. She had done four make-overs before lunch and was booked solid for the rest of the week. And it wasn’t just her. Lois and Bettina were also benefitting from what they now referred to as ‘the Pristine effect’.

  “I think we should make Carole-Ann our first poster girl,” said Pris as she worked liquid blush into Mrs Coombes cheeks. “It has to be on the apples of your cheeks,” she explained. “This is like a stain, so a little goes a long way. You shouldn’t have that problem you were complaining about with the powder one that doesn’t stay on.”

  “Carole-Ann Shackleton, as our poster girl?” echoed Bettina, placing a waxing strip on the top of Edna Filmore’s upper lip.

  “Absolutely,” agreed Lois. “the Facebook page has blown up thanks to her.”

  “This is true,” admitted Bettina. “But how do you know she hasn’t reverted to her old ways overnight? She’d be our walking talking advertisement. And how’s that gonna work if she’s slouching round town in a lumberjack shirt and timberlands?”

  “I’m meeting her for lunch,” said Pris over her shoulder. “I can check she’s still committed to her new look.” She thought it wise not to mention the beers in the bar photo from the previous night.

  “I have an idea,” said Billie, clearing her throat. “I think we should make up Carole-Ann up and have her perched on, like, a bar-stool to show off her long legs. Maybe wearing some high-waisted shorts and like a bustier so she looks like a fifties glamor model.”

  “I have a black silk bustier!” said Pris, remembering her stash of clothes in the cardboard box. “’I’ll bring it in!”

  “No offence honey,” said Bettina eyeing Pris. “But I doubt your bustier would fit Carole-Ann. She’s a strapping gal.”

  “No, it’s from before…I think I lost some weight,” said Pris remembering the tops that would fall off her now. “Or I was planning on getting a boob job or something.” She shrugged.

  “Do not get messing with that bod, Pris,” said Lois pointing a hair comb at her. “I’m serious. That would be a crime.”

  “No, I won’t,” said Pris, with a laugh. “It must have just been a phase.”

  “Maybe you thought you’d get more customers with big boobs?” suggested Edna, sticking out her chin so Bettina could get the wax on all her hairs.

  “Possibly,” Pris agreed. “But that’s all behind me now.” Billie put a mug of coffee down at her elbow. “Thanks honey.”

  “I put cream in, how you like,” mumbled Billie, scuttling
off to the back-room.

  “Besides, shifters tend to like things au natural,” chimed in Mrs Coombes. “I doubt Jared would appreciate silicone. My Ernie doesn’t even like me wearing scent or–” she glanced around. “Waxing – down there.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Bettina dryly. “There’s not much demand for Brazilians in Cranston Falls.”

  Lois snorted with laughter and Pris took a hasty sip of coffee.

  “You sure you were a stripper?” asked Edna narrowing her eyes. “Cos you blush a surprising amount at a little straight-talkin’.”

  “Actually, what I did was more like exotic dancing,” improvised Pris.

  “Ohhhh I get ya hon,” said Mrs Coombes. “In one of those spangled leotards? With a pole?” Pris nodded vaguely. “I don’t know how you dance in those platform shoes,” she tutted. “They would really aggravate my corns.”

  “I’ve got a pair back at the trailer with an eight inch heel,” said Pris. “I doubt I could even walk in them anymore, let alone dance.”

  “Girl, sounds like you quit at the right time - before you broke an ankle!” her client said, shaking her head.

  “You may be right,” she agreed with a smile.

  Carole-Ann met her at one o’clock, lurking outside the parlor rather than coming in. She had on a pair of over-sized sunglasses and had her hair forward over her face. “Don’t let the others see me,” she murmured as Pris linked arms with her and they started off down the street. “My shine’s worn off.”

  “I thought you said you could handle your beer?”

  “I handled my beer just fine,” Carole-Ann told her. “It was the shots that did for me.”