Becoming Blue (Chubby Chasers, Inc. #1)

by Angie M. Brashears

  Once I’m snug as a bug in a rug, she rubs my back. “Lola will be here in a few hours. She’s hair and make-up. To get your look just right.” I smirk, coming down from my sugar rush, and a loud yawn escapes me. “We’ll get a few stills for the site, nothing major. And then we’ll hit the town.” I nod, because it’s expected, and feel my eyes closing. She jumps up. “You sleep. Time for me to change and shop!”

  Just as I’m about to go under, I see his beautiful blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Sasha, is he okay? I mean, he’s not camping out on a park bench, is he?” My words are thick from my earlier tears.

  She continues to rub my back. “Blue, he’s fine. This is not your doing. It’s been brewing for a long time with him. He just needs a few days of peace and quiet, a few rainbow-colored pills, and he’ll be as good as new.”

  Her words follow me down into sleep, rubbing my wounded heart.

  Chapter 28

  Two hours later, I wake to the green light blinking overhead. Chase and Belinda getting their money’s worth, no doubt. I hope they’re pleased to see they’ve worn me out, I think, as I head to the bathroom to take care of a few things.

  When I come out, there’s a note, along with a stacked meat sandwich on crusty white bread on my desk. I tear a huge chunk out of it, chewing as I read the note. ‘Eat me, bitch!’ is scrawled on it in Sasha’s writing. I smirk and unfold it.

  Meet us in the basement. Your pin up days are about to begin!

  She’s left a big red smudge of a kiss on the bottom of the page in case I didn’t know it was from her. As I leave the room, sandwich in hand, I don’t know the protocol for my viewers so I give a stiff wave and shut the door behind me. Walking towards the stairs, I head down, hoping this is the way. The tour seems so long ago. My eyes divert to the kitchen, and I swear I can smell flan. Oh Javi, I think, you sick little bastard you.

  Before I’m off the bottom step, both Sasha and Gretchen envelop me in a cloud of perfume and step back to introduce me to a tall, reed-thin lady who is all smiles and bustle. “Good afternoon, sunshine!” Sasha sings out. Gretchen drags me by the hand into what looks like a full-service beauty salon—like someone dropped a mini version here and built the house around it. Sasha follows us in, pointing, “That’s Lola, but I just call her Oz since she’s the one behind the curtain making all the good shit happen.” I nod her way, and the introductions continue. “This here is Ming, our resident hair and nails girl.” Ming bows from her sitting position, beckoning me to sit in her pedicure chair. “Ming’s part time, comes in twice a week to do Mani’s and Pedi’s, so we’ve got to get you on our cycle.” She winks and I return one of my own, before sitting for Ming. “But Lola’s always here, aren’t you, dear?”

  She smiles and nods in my direction. “Ello, Blue. I’m here to get your character underway.”

  “She’s the best.” Gretchen assures me. “She does all the ladies.” This brings a giggle out of Lola who’s setting up her station. Various brushes, combs, curling irons, and scissors come out of the drawers.

  My two bosses sit off to the side at a table spread for a queen. I see the cold cuts from my sandwich, along with rolls, chips, some cut-up fruit, and a tiered tray of desserts. My stomach rumbles at the sight. Gretchen catches my eye, nods once, and stands with a plate. “More sandwich or desserts this time?” Her eyebrow goes up, and her hand hovers over the sweets.

  “Desserts please.” I give her a smile, take the plate that’s offered, and dig in. With Lola’s fingers weaving through my hair, and Ming massaging my feet, my whole body relaxes. This is heaven. I sigh.

  We chat, mostly about my new clients, which impresses the hell out of Gretchen. “We’ve never been able to nail those two down,” she says around a mouthful of sandwich. “Usually the normal voyeur stuff, paying the minimum club membership per month, until you. Then poof! Gold members! I never would’ve dreamed they’d been waiting on you, Blue, to make the move into Favors.” She grins and toasts me with her lemonade, making a show of coming over to clink my glass.

  I turn towards the knock on the door, and a petite Asian woman enters the room. She’s quiet, introduces herself, and motions for me to stand. Which I do. Right in the basin of water. Ming clucks but lets me, her face saying, Amateur.

  I feel the little woman’s hands all over my body, dragging a measuring tape here and there, grabbing hips and boobs. I give the ladies a WTF look, but all they can do is laugh. “That’s Hari for you. Hari Handful.” Sasha grabs both her own boobs as she introduces us. This cracks us all up, and the tension leaves my stance. “Let the fondling commence!”

  When my measurements are in the books, Hari sits in a chair she’s pulled up alongside my salon chair and flips through a book of designs, using her lap as a table. I’m impressed, not only with the cutesy pin-up clothes she’s drawn out for me, but also with sketches of styles I’ve seen on the other girls. “You did this?” I ask, amazed to see Esmeralda’s lace dress.

  “I did,” she answers proudly and turns to my designs.

  “They’re all so beautiful! I don’t know how I’ll ever pick!” I feel dazed just looking at all the fabrics and pictures. So much work has been done on these already, the attention to detail in her drawings leaves me speechless.

  Hari shakes her head, closing the book. “These are all for you, Blue. There’s no need to pick. These are the base patterns for your pin-up clothes. Here, let me show you.” She heads to a garment bag hanging on the closet door and unzips it with a flourish, revealing a beautiful A-line dress on a hanger. I’m stunned. The fabric is so cute—crisp black with blood-red cherries. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. My hand flies to my mouth, and I’m up out of my chair, trailing soapy water as I go, wanting to touch the beautiful creation.

  Lola grabs my hand. “Oh no you don’t! Hari, I get her first. I’ve got to do something with this hair.” And to me, she adds, “What happened? Did you sleep on it wet?”

  A sheepish smile crosses my lips in response.

  “That’s what you get the big bucks for, Lola!” Sasha tells her around a mouth full of salami.

  I’m pushed down by my shoulders back into my beauty chair. But my eyes stay on the dress. Loving it. I’ve never had anything so feminine before. I don’t want to look back in the mirror, at the WW escapee who doesn’t belong in a dress like that.

  While my hair is being brushed and straightened to within an inch of its life, Hari walks over to me, the dress out of the bag and held up by its shoulders so I can see it. “Like I was saying, they’re all for you. I have a few basic patterns. This is what’s called a Tierney dress. An A line skirt, halter top, with a peekaboo bullet bra sewn in, see?” She caresses the blood-red cups and continues. “All the dresses are this basic A-line pattern. It’s just a matter of adding cap sleeves, a different bodice, well, whatever you want.” She says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world and shrugs.

  Setting the dress aside, she pulls out another, this one red with white polka dots. It has the cutest little cap sleeves and a white belt. She points to the sleeves to emphasize her previous point. This, too, goes to the side, and two half-skirts come out next. “Crinoline skirts. Just remember, pin-up and even rocka-pin-up are all about the swing of the skirt. These push the skirt out, giving it a dramatic flair.” She winks, spins her body, and I watch the skirts move with her. “These draw the eye down to your ass and legs, and feet…oh I almost forgot!” The skirts go on my growing pile, and she pulls over a black steamer trunk.

  “Sasha said you’re a size 8.” She says, motioning to my feet.

  “In gym shoes.”

  What she reveals in her box of tricks brings oohs and ahhs all around.

  “Shoes!” Sasha and Gretchen both jump up, clapping their hands as they run over, leaving the cold cuts behind.

  Hari beams. I, however, sulk while Lola rolls my hair in hot pin curls.

  “What’s wrong, love?” Hari sees my crestfallen look in the mirror.

  “
I’ve never worn a pair of heels, much less owned any.”

  “Oh don’t worry, honey!” Hari says, digging through the see-through labeled boxes of shoes. She holds up three bins. “I’ve brought trainers!”

  My brow wrinkles, not understanding. “Won’t basketball shoes look funny with the dress?”

  The room erupts in laughter as she opens the bins and lays them right out on the floor for me to see. “These,” she says with a dramatic wave of her hand, “are wedges, aka trainers, silly. Easy to walk in, they’ll get you comfortable in heels, and besides,” she adds, “they’ll make your legs look fabulous!” I’m doubtful, but she’s not. She grabs the foot closest to her, dry now, and shoves it into the shoe. “Perfect fit!” They’re peekaboo’s, and I see my gnarly toenails peeking out, saying “Cut me! Cut me!” Ming balks, shooing Hari away, but it’s all in good fun. I can tell by the rapport of all the women that they work together often and well.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Let me get her toes done first before you start gussying her up!” Ming gives her back her shoe and starts cutting and shaping my toenails.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for the free food!” My sass is leaking out.

  Ming waves me off, but I can see a little smile peeking out from under her long black bob.

  Sasha walks over to me, and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Blue, do you remember those cut out dolls? The kind that came with all different clothes, with tabs on the shoulder?” I know what she’s talking about and getting at.

  “Yes! That’s exactly what I feel like right now. A paper doll.” I giggle along with the rest of the girls as I visualize paper tabs on all the beautiful dresses Hari’s made. “My ass would get kinda cold in those dresses-they only covered the front-if I’m remembering correctly.”

  Lola leans my chair back. “Enough with the paper dolls. I’m going to put a beauty mask on. Your skin’s beautiful, and we want to keep it that way. Pin-up is all about glowing complexions.” I close my eyes, letting her work. At one point she starts tweezing. I try to hold very still, not wanting to lose an eye or mess with Ming’s—who’s now painting my toenails—concentration.

  “Okay. Up, Blue.” Unbelievably, I’m hovering on the verge of sleep again.

  Who knew getting beautified was this much work? Gretchen walks me to a bathroom in the back where she wets a rag and motions to my face. “Here, wash and dry.” I bend over the sink, watching the white rag turn green from the mask.

  “Ming’s just about ready to wax you.”

  “Where?” I ask, but I know what’s coming.

  “Everywhere!” Gretchen draws it out, leaning in to make a scary face.

  “Oh no!” I laugh.

  “Oh yes!” Sasha yells from the other side of the door. “Drop yer drawers!”

  When I’m as hairless as a baby, I’m moved from the waxing table to a different chair. Lola’s station. “Tonight we’ll be going for loose waves. I don’t know if you want to roll your hair back every day, but with your eyes, you could always do sweet Bettie Page bangs. Super cute and less work, too.”

  I’m admiring my new blood-red toenails, before I realize the room has gone silent around me. Hari, on a portable sewing machine, stops altering my dresses. The bosses stop their chewing and gabbing. Even Ming stops, midair, with my hand hovering over a bowl of soapy water.

  “What?” I say, not knowing what it was that I did to stop traffic.

  “Uh… Blue?” Lola clears her throat. “I was asking what you’d prefer. To roll or cut bangs.”

  “Oh! You were talking to me this whole time? I didn’t know I got a say in all of this.” It feels good to know I’m not just a doll to be moved from here to there. Without a thought, I yell, “Bangs it is, Lola!” and the bustle of my makeover continues.

  Midway through my make-up tutorial, Hari drops a pile of print fabrics on my lap. “Pick a few you like,” she says, but I don’t even have to decide on this. If it’s not from the Hanes section, I don’t know what works. Waving my hand at her I say, “You pick. I’m not really up on fashion.”

  She jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “I love you. You may just be my new favorite client.” Sasha harrumphs in the corner but giggles at Hari’s little display.

  Lola talks through the application of my make-up, teaching as she goes. I learn about cat eyes, the art of lining the perfect red lip—red being my new signature color—how to fill in my eyebrows—“The most important part next to the red lip!”—and always skin care, skin care, skin care.

  While my nails dry, I eat a few more of the delicious bite-sized desserts and watch Hari lay floaty scarves side by side on a table by the door, arranging and rearranging. When she’s happy with their display, she pulls out a Rubbermaid container full of fake flowers and headbands. She carries it over to the red and white polka-dot dress and holds various flowers against it until she finds the perfect one. She lays that aside and starts the matching with the other dress.

  Gretchen’s gone—she’s been requested—and Sasha is chatting on the phone in the corner with Mr. Matted and Tatted. When she’s done, she’s smirking and feisty. “How’s that going?” I ask, pointing to her phone.

  “Oh, it’s going, all right.” A half-smile and a wink let me know how far.

  I can’t help a twinge of jealousy. “Will you date him, or will he just be a client?” I wonder how love works here in the chubby house.

  “Don’t you get it by now, Blue? Everyone’s a client until they’re something else. He needs to prove himself for a good long time before he’s anything else.”

  I nod. I get it, but it makes me think of my long lost Javi.

  “Is that how it is? I mean, do you think that that’s how it is between me and Javi?” Her brows shoot up at the mention of his name.

  “Who cares what I think, Blue. All that matters is what you think.”

  “Well, me and Javi, right?” I ask, but she’s shaking her head. “That boy’s gaga over you, don’t you know?”

  I shake my head because I don’t know anything. Scanning the room for dramatic effect, I blurt. “Really? Gaga, huh? Where is he then? Because the last I checked, he needed space from me, not the other way around.”

  “Okay, hold up. Take it down a notch.” Not breaking eye contact, she says to the others, “Can we have the room please?”

  Hari throws her hands up, thread and needle in one, my dress in the other, but gets up to leave. She drops undergarments on the chair next to us. “Get her in these while you two fight. Virgie’s here to shoot, and it’s getting late.” Before long, she, too, scoots out, leaving us alone.

  “He didn’t leave on his own. We—me and Gretchen—gave him the option of a restraining order, or treatment.”

  “Wait, treatment for what?” I’m puzzled.

  “He’s not a druggie or an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s just intense. Let’s just put it this way. ‘Intense’ as in ‘fixation intense,’ but once you came into the picture, he got kidnap-y fixated on you. First clue? The kidnap kit. That threw us both for a loop. Then the have-to-have-her-at-all-costs fixation, leading up to—tada!—roofie-ville.”

  My mouth drops open. Sasha really does know everything.

  “We knew if he kept going down this path, you’d disappear one day. End up tied to a bed, being force-fed melted Häagen-Dazs through a tube. A total food-fuckfest. Until you’d lose yourself in his fetish.” Her voice lowers a bit. “I told him, ‘Please don’t make me take out a restraining order on you.’” She gives me a grim smile. “You see, if he makes us choose, it’s always gonna be you. And don’t friggin’ mess up your make-up. You look too fab for tears!” She hands me a napkin from the table and continues.

  “He’s our friend and knows we love him. But you’re our sister now, and we will protect you at all costs, even from Javi. His friendship’s a small price to pay for your safety and happiness. He and we just want to balance the scales.” She holds both hands up. The left, palm up, high in
the air. “This is Javi, with his ‘I must have her, feed her, and care for her, 24 hours a day. I need her so bad, I will kidnap her and tie her to me forever.’” So dramatic. I roll my eyes. “And here’s you.” Palm held way lower. “‘I think Javi’s a little intense but cute, I’d like to date him.’” She bats her eyes and sashays around. I guess that’s me.

  “So until you’re both closer to the middle.” She clasps both hands together. I laugh at her silly parodies. “You stay apart, so no felonies occur.”

  Huffing and puffing, she snaps, clips, and yanks garters onto me.

  She looks up at me through thick eyelashes and waggles her eyebrows. “Now that’s not to say he’ll come back a totally changed man. He’s called ten times just today checking on you.”

  “Hmm, I didn’t know…” Now I feel stupid.

  “And you’re not supposed to, so mum’s the word.” She feigns a zipped lip without mussing her actual lips. “He needs time to get his head as right as it’s gonna get when it comes to you. And you Blue Butterfly, need time to shine bright.” She turns me towards the full-length mirror. She sighs in my ear, and I’m floored by the luscious, curvaceous, fabulous version of me that stares back. “I look…”

  “Fuckable,” she finishes for me with a wink and a smirk. She’s sooo cheeky.

  With that settled, my crew of fabulousness is allowed to enter, oohing and ahhing at my feet.

  “We’re using the roll bangs for the first few stills, then I’ll cut your bangs for the last ones.” As if I was complaining. If I didn’t already know I’d never be able to pull off this hairstyle, I’d argue. Instead, I just nod and smile.

  Hari helps me into a pale blue, sheer nightie, complete with feathers on the collar and sleeves. My feet slide into white peep toes with detachable silk bright yellow bows at the back. “A splash of color.” She adds a huge, fake, blue magnolia flower to my head.