Bear Faced Liar

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Shots?” Pris gave her a sidelong look. “On a week-night? Have you eaten?”

  Carole-Ann groaned again. “Couldn’t face breakfast.”

  “Do you want to get food now or-?”

  “I picked us up some sandwiches from the diner. You were gonna show me the drug store products I could use until the end of the month, when I can afford the fancy stuff,” Carole-Ann reminded her.

  “No problem,” Pris was just glad her new friend was still keen on her new beauty regime. “I need to pick up a few things too. Do you know any houseware stores in town?”

  “Sure,” Carole-Ann told her.

  “Oh, and I need to know where the laundromat is.”

  “I’ll give you the full whistle-stop tour.”

  Pris was enchanted by Cranston Falls which was a quaint old-fashioned town with a handsome main street boasting a beautiful old vaudeville theatre which Carole-Ann said now showed movies, independent bookstores, antique dealers, bakeries, and a bunch of mom and pop stores. She checked her cell phone, but Jared hadn’t replied to the early morning message she’d sent him about her fully-booked clientele for the rest of her trial week.

  “My apartment’s in that building over there,” said Carole-Ann, pointing to a tall handsome building in red brick.

  “You live above the hardware store?”

  “Sure do. Nice and central. You ever want to do a girl’s night in town, you’re welcome to stay at mine. Here’s the drugstore.” They ducked into a decent size store and Carole-Ann made for the display counters on the far wall. “Now, help a girl out. What do I need to buy to repair this face.” She slid the sunglasses down her nose to show her tired eyes and dull skin.

  “Okay,” said Pris, sucking in her cheeks. “Let’s start here,” she said going for the first stand that was a cheap and cheerful brand with a cruelty free logo on it. “We need to find you a concealer with decent coverage.” They spent a good twenty minutes, testing products on Carole-Ann’s wrist until they found good matches and contrasts for her skin-tone. By the time they had selected five products which Pris deemed were necessary to her friend’s new and improved appearance they had worked their way right to the other end of the cosmetic stands. Pris was confident that Carole-Ann now had everything she needed, until she could afford to buy a few more luxury items. She also had her buy three brushes and a sponge applicator. Then they sat on the grass in the park with a couple of sandwiches that Carole-Ann had bought for them from Misty’s. After they’d eaten, Pris watched Carole-Ann apply the products, stepping in with directions when needed, but leaving her to it by and large.

  “So much better,” said Pris. “Though you do need to buy a better compact mirror. That one is tiny. You need one with a magnification.”

  “Gotcha,” Carole-Ann answered, smacking her lips and then blotting them with her napkin. “What did you think of the sandwich?”

  “Delicious,” said Pris. “How much do I owe you?”

  “My treat,” said Carole-Ann. “You can get them next time. Apple and swiss on rye. Misty said you like fruit.”

  “I do, thank you,” said Pris climbing to her feet and dusting her knees. “You know, we’ve been talking this morning. How do you feel about being our poster girl at Bettina Lorena’s?”

  “You mean the photo on Facebook? Sure, I love it.”

  “Not exactly. We’re considering getting a photographer in and doing some glamor shots for publicity. Billie knows someone doing a photography course who she thinks would be interested in expanding his portfolio. Bettina’s got this fantastic studio photo from when she was younger. We want to all have our pictures taken in retro-style poses.” Pris hesitated. “We thought maybe we could start with you, if you were interested.”

  “You want me,” said Pris. “To do a glamorous photo-shoot? Hell, yes I’m interested. It’s about time this town woke up to the fact that I’m more than just a ram-Shackleton.”

  “A ram-Shackleton?”

  “That’s what the whole town know me and my brothers as,” scowled Carole-Ann.

  “Well, this would certainly be one way of showing them.”

  “Sign me up, girl.”

  Before she climbed back into her tabard for the afternoon, Pris shot a quick message to Jared. Do you still want to head to the strip mall after work? Should I meet you there or at the trailer? She was just slipping her cell phone back into her purse, when she felt it buzz with his one-word reply. Trailer.

  The afternoon flew by. Jared’s Aunt Petunia came in and had a facial with Bettina and then her hair colored and set by Lois. Lastly, she came and sat obediently for her make-up consultation with Pris. Despite Pris’s best efforts not to push any products on the older lady, Aunt ‘Tunia still insisted on buying a Matinee blusher called Dusky Peach which really did look very pretty with her faded blue eyes, and Pris showed her how to fill out her eyebrows which were very thin on the ground.

  “You still want them to look natural and not blocky, so you need to be careful to add them with brush strokes, like so.”

  “How much is this eyebrow tint, Pris?” Aunt ‘Tunia asked her with interest.

  “I’m buying it you for a present,” Pris answered firmly. “I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said as Jared’s aunt started to protest. “Don’t I have these beautiful rings, thanks to you?” she said spreading her fingers out.

  “Those are from Jared,” Aunt ‘Tunia corrected her, looking flustered.

  “It’s a thank you for welcoming me into the family,” Pris said, reaching for a small gold box containing the eyebrow tint. “Billie, would you fetch my purse from the back room?”

  The young girl hurried off to fetch it for her and Pris paid for the item before slipping it into Aunt ‘Tunia’s handbag. “There’s a small applicator brush in the box, but let me know if you can’t get on with it and we can find you a new long handle one.”

  “That’s terribly kind of you,” said Aunt ‘Tunia as they both walked over to the register for her to settle up. “Did you hear from Debbie yet about the barbecue at their house on Saturday?”

  “Um, I don’t think so?”

  “She’ll probably have gotten Luke to ask Jared,” the older woman replied. “Hopefully Daisy and Lloyd will be there too, so the whole family.”

  “Sounds great,” said Pris brightly, though in truth it sounded a little daunting. “Do you think you might swing by Amos Fletcher’s store on the way home?” she asked Petunia. “Let him see your new look?”

  Aunt Petunia blushed as Pris helped her into her jacket. “Well, there are a couple of things I could do with picking up from the store,” she said vaguely. “So, I may call in.” She patted her freshly set curls carefully.

  “And don’t forget your new peach blusher,” said Pris, picking up her purchase from the counter and handing it over.

  “Thank you, dear.”

  Pris watched as the older lady crossed the street and then paused outside Fletcher’s store to check her reflection in the mirror of the new blush compact she had just bought, before walking in.

  “Old people are so cute,” said Billie, leaning on her broom next to her.

  Pris laughed. “You probably think I’m old,” she said wrapping an arm around Billie’s shoulders.

  “No, you're not," she protested. "I texted my friend Patrick,” Billie told her. “Did you get the chance to speak to Carole-Ann?”

  “Carole-Ann is definitely game,” said Pris, looking over at Bettina. “We spent our lunchbreak talking about make up tips, so she definitely is in.”

  “Awesome,” said Billie. “We’ll need to let him set up his lights and back-drop after work one evening this week.”

  “I’ll find out what shifts Carole-Ann is working this week,” said Pris.

  Lois cleared her throat. “So…I had an idea,” she said, straightening up from the perm she was giving to Eileen Parkes. “You know how we all sent each other a photo of our drinks last night when we were relaxing?”

 
; “Except Pris,” put in Billie.

  “You don’t drink Pris?” asked Lois.

  “Oh, I do,” said Pris. “But I didn’t have any white wine about the place. So, I just had to make do with a few sips of Jared’s beer.”

  “White wine?” said Eileen. “Only way I can drink that is if I make it into a spritzer, so it’s a long drink.”

  “Oh?” said Pris, “Now, I like a Pinot Grigio.” Then she almost gasped. Did she? She had no idea where that extract of personal knowledge had come from.

  “What was your idea, Lois?” asked Bettina, looking up from where she was waxing a mono-brow.

  “Oh, well I thought we could do a line of mocktails for our customers. To make it more like a luxury treatment. You know you can make non-alcoholic versions of most cocktails, but we could serve them in glasses like the real thing with umbrellas and such. Give it a touch of Hollywood glam. Whaddaya think, Bettina?”

  Bettina looked thoughtful. “It’s not half bad,” she admitted. “If we really do decide to give this place a Hollywood glamor overhaul.”

  “I think it’s a great idea, Mom,” said Billie. “It would be fun.”

  “Thanks honey,” beamed Lois. “We could maybe get one of those forties style cocktail cabinets off Ebay or a flea market or something?”

  “No need,” said Bettina. “I got one in my basement. I put it down there after Frank died. I’ve never been much of a drinker.”

  “Really?”

  “It could do with a good clean, and maybe a re-paint, but I bet we could outfit it with some straws and swizzle sticks and what not. Project for you Billie,” she said. “Research those non-alcoholic – what did you call ‘em Lois?”

  “Mocktails,” said Lois.

  “On it,” said Billie. “I’ll research it tonight on Mom’s phone.”

  “That’s another thing,” said Bettina. “I got a laptop at home that my sons clubbed together to buy me last Christmas. I never use the damn thing. How would it be if I bought it in here for work purposes. Billie you seem quite a whizz on these things.”

  “That’d be great, Bettina,” said Lois, opening her eyes wide at Pris.

  Pris walked back over to the appointments book to check who her last appointment of the day was with and was surprised to find it was Jared’s sister Daisy. The door jangled and in Daisy sailed in an oversized rock band t-shirt, probably belonging to her husband, and a pair of tight black jeans with biker boots.

  “Oh lord,” murmured Lois under her breath.

  Daisy had her phone glued to her ear and was giving someone merry hell. “I do not care Lloyd!” she was seething. “If you do, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the rest of the month!” She whisked her phone from her ear and stared at the screen in disbelief. “That son of a bitch hung up on me!”

  “That’s your mother-in-law you’re cussing out,” Betttina told her dryly. “One of my son’s wives started up with that kind of attitude, she’d never eat at my table again.”

  “Do you see Lloyd’s mother in here anywhere?” asked Daisy belligerently. She plunked a hand on her hip and scanned the beauty parlor. “Cos I sure as hell don’t!”

  “Take a seat, Daisy,” said Pris hastily, turning her seat around.

  Daisy sniffed, slung her phone in her purse and then walked around Pris’ chair as if examining it for dust. Then she sat herself down, tossing her shaggy dark head of hair.

  “What are we doing today?” asked Pris looking at Daisy’s heavily applied black eyeliner. “If you want me to start with a blank canvas then we’re going to have to wipe off your existing make-up…”

  “Touch my eyeliner and you die, bitch,” said Daisy dramatically. She settled back in the seat, crossing her arms. “I don’t need the likes of you to school me on how to do my own face. Let me tell you, I won’t appreciate you pushing any over-priced cosmetics on me either.” She curled her lip, glancing around the clientele. “Unlike the rest of this town, I’m not impressed by some cheap tricks with concealer and photoshop.”

  Pris stiffened as a hush fell over the rest of the beauty parlor. “There was no photoshop used on Carole-Ann’s pictures,” she said, standing up straight. “Here at Bettina Lorena’s we stand by our results. And if you don’t want the benefit of my expertise, then I will have to ask just why you are here. Because you sit in my chair, you will be paying a consultation fee, bitch,” she added distinctly.

  You could have heard a pin drop. Then someone sucked in a noisy breath and Lois leaned over Eileen’s perming curlers. “You tell her, Pris,” she said loudly and stabbed the air with her feathering scissors.

  “Daisy, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” said Bettina heavily. “And make sure not to linger on the sidewalk outside. I don’t want anyone to think you got that ugly-ass eyeliner drawn on by one of my girls.”

  Daisy turned a very dull red as she snatched up her purse. “Not a very smart move,” she hissed as she sprang out of her seat.

  “I’m glad you recognize that,” retorted Pris, as Daisy stalked past her.

  “I don’t know what my brother’s thinking bringing you here,” bit out Daisy snatching open the door. “He must have rocks in his head.”

  “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out,” yelled Lois as the door swung shut behind her.

  Eileen Parkes let out a whoop of appreciation and she and Lois did a high-five.

  Pris let out a breath, as Bettina shook her head. “You alright?” the older woman asked her shrewdly.

  “I’m fine,” said Pris, though she did feel a little shaken.

  “Don’t you pay her any mind,” advised Eileen. “That Daisy’s always been hot-tempered.”

  “Pris, you were awesome,” said Billie, striking a pose. “Oh, you will be paying a consultation fee, bitch!” she quoted. “You too Bettina,” she gabbled enthusiastically, pointing a finger in the air and waggling it around. “I don’t want anyone thinking one of my girls gave you that ugly-ass eyeliner!”

  Bettina gave a crack of laughter, though Pris winced. She hoped Aunt ‘Tunia wouldn’t hear that she called her niece a bitch. At the very least, she figured her invite would be rescinded to the family barbecue.

  **

  Pris drove back to the trailer in a somber mood. For all she knew, Daisy may have been straight on the phone to her brother, but when she arrived, Jared was nowhere in sight. She had stopped at the store to pick up a few more staples for the food cupboards, so she set about hauling them in to the trailer and fitting them into the confined storage space. She’d had an interesting chat with Amos Fletcher about Jared’s aunt. Behind his bushy moustache, she was sure the older man had blushed when she’d suggested he ask Petunia out for a meal sometime. It had been most interesting, thought Pris as she changed from her work clothes into the Juicy velour shorts, a pink tee, and the soft grey hoody. Glancing out of the window and seeing no truck, she set about making a batch of short-crust pastry. After all, she had promised Jared an apple pie. She knew the measurements and handling the dough seemed familiar enough, so it was quick work and she hummed a tune under her breath as she did it. Setting the pastry in the small refrigerator to chill, she set about coring her bag of apples and then slicing them into thick wedges. Then came her own particular twist for an apple pie. Taking a fresh lemon, she halved and squeezed it for juice and then cut away small shreds of the rind for extra flavor. This and two teaspoons of cinnamon were added with brown sugar to the apples in a bowl and then it was carefully stirred until each slice was liberally coated with the spiced juice and sugar mix. As she took the pastry out of the fridge and halved it, she fancied she heard an engine turning into their field. Guessing Jared was back, she figured she still had time to prepare the pie and rolled out the base with an empty glass bottle which she half filled with cold water. She then greased and lined a large tin dish she had found in the cupboard under the oven with pastry and piled the fruit mixture into the middle. She had just rolled out the pastry for the top of the pie
and was cutting the excess pastry from the dish-edge, when she saw movement in the trailer doorway behind her. Turning with a smile on her face, she promptly froze when she found herself confronted by a stranger.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, falling back against the counter. There was something disconcerting about the fixed way he was staring at her. It forced her to add firmly, as she straightened up. “My husband will be back any moment.”

  His eyes boggled at her, then his gaze swept down over her bare legs before returning to her face.

  “Are you here to see Jared?” she persisted, holding the knife she had been using in a firm grasp at her hip.

  He swallowed, and seemed to struggle to compose himself, throwing out a hand which smacked against a cupboard door. “Er…yeah. I’m here to see Hunt. He’s…uh, working on my house.” He had shifty eyes, she thought. And rather a weak chin. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and hunched his shoulders which did make him look non-threatening but still, she didn’t like being in such a small space with him. “Did you just make that pie?” he asked incredulously.

  Pris glanced at the counter, covered in flour and apple peelings and nodded. “I don’t mean to be rude Mr …?”

  “Harber.”

  “…Mr Harber, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait for Jared outside the trailer,” she said lifting her chin. “He’s a shifter you know, and they’re very territorial. It’s for your own safety really.”

  Mr Harber’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “He’s a shifter?” he echoed.

  “Yes,” she answered coolly, not caring for his shocked and slightly disgusted tone. She pointed to the door with her knife. “Outside, if you please,” she repeated with emphasis.

  He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before wheeling round and almost falling out of the door. He really looked rather clammy and wild-eyed, she thought with distaste, glancing out the window and spotting a silver Porsche which he must have arrived in. Harber shambled toward it, glancing back over his shoulder in her direction several times. He wiped his hands on his beige trousers and through his rather long hair a few times, as though in agitation before Pris turned away from the window and began clearing away. Maybe he owes Jared money, she thought as she sprayed kitchen cleaner over the surfaces and started wiping them down. He certainly had an uneasy, guilty look about him.