Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel

by Bethany Maines

  Nikki stared at it in horror. It was one of the gaudiest things she had ever seen. Never in her life had she taken that much makeup anywhere. She wasn’t sure that she even owned enough makeup to fill the thing that Rachel proudly hefted onto the table.

  “All right, the trick here, Nikki,” Rachel said, “is not to confuse your actual product with our lab product. Although we do try to make it multipurpose, I cannot claim that all of our lab versions are up to the high standard of Carrie Mae makeup.” She shook her head sadly, as if this were a personal failing.

  “This is your shade of foundation, I believe,” she continued, holding out a silver Carrie Mae tube with its telltale gold butterfly. Nikki nodded. “But it also happens to be a handy bit of high-grade plastic explosives that can be set off with the detonator cord concealed in the bottom of the cap.” She whipped the cap apart with practiced ease and showed Nikki how to arm the foundation. “Of course, because of the chemical content, it’s also fairly flammable and it doesn’t taste very good. It wouldn’t explode or anything,” she said hastily, seeing Nikki’s expression. “Plastique doesn’t work that way; but you wouldn’t want to get too close to any open flames.”

  Rachel reassembled the cap, put it back on the tube, and handed the foundation to Nikki. Nikki examined it critically. It really did look just like her regular tube of foundation, but a quick check of the label revealed that it was “EXP015-A.”

  “Then we have pepper spray body splash. The stun gun compact. And the tracking device earrings.” The gold butterfly earrings were each about the size of a nickel.

  “We didn’t cover those in class,” Nikki interrupted. “What do they do?”

  “Oh! These are a great new innovation!” Rachel pulled out another pair to demonstrate. “Simply, bend the ear post to activate . . .” She snapped the small tine of the earring straight down. The earring made a small beep and the gemstone eyes of the butterfly flashed red. “Then just pop it into someone’s pocket and track it in live time with your Carrie Mae–issue phone or this compact.” She pulled out a small blush compact and pressed down on a raised butterfly icon. The mirror portion faded and became an LCD display, showing a grid pattern and a central blinking dot; the blush well flipped over and became a small panel of buttons. “The great thing is that they’re a set. One earring is a tracking device, and the other is a bug. See, I’ve got them labeled.” She flipped the earrings over, and Nikki saw that one earring had a little embossed ant on the back and the other had two squiggly lines.

  “It’s a track and a bug, get it?”

  “Got it,” Nikki said, poking at the buttons on the compact.

  “The earrings have a lifespan of twelve hours, which is unfortunate, but we’re working on improving the battery life in the beta version. I know, it’s not that long, but it’s the best we could do and still have the earrings look stylish. We did have one set that lasted longer, but nobody wanted to wear them. The review panel said they were ugly.” Rachel seemed disheartened by this opinion of her work.

  “Can we get a couple of those flash-bang lipsticks?” Val asked, hopping up on one of the tall counters.

  “Oh, yes, that would be good. I got three new shades in yesterday.” Rachel perked up again and continued on around the room, filling Nikki’s arms with gear. As the pile of equipment grew larger, Nikki began to worry. She had no idea what half of it did.

  “Don’t worry,” said Rachel, as Nikki walked away with a duffel bag and toting the enormous makeup case, “I included the manuals.” It wasn’t a reassuring statement.

  Returning to the elevators, Nikki lugged the vast duffel and tried not to grimace at Val’s dainty bag. Val had just hit the button for the lobby when Rachel came running down the hall.

  “Wait! I almost forgot,” she panted. Val put a hand over the door sensor and the door slid open again.

  “Your cell phone,” Rachel huffed, dropping the book and a cell phone into Nikki’s hands. “Can’t believe I nearly forgot that. Can’t send you out without a company phone. It’s got all the other normal stuff, and of course our extras. Unfortunately, it doesn’t come in the right purple.”

  “Or I wouldn’t use it,” said Val behind Nikki.

  “But the silver looks nice, don’t you think?” Rachel asked, oblivious.

  “Yeah, nice,” answered Nikki.

  “I’ve activated it. Here’s the recharger cord, car kit, and instructions. Just push here to talk. Don’t worry, the rest is in the manual.” Rachel shoved the instructions and cords at Nikki as Val took her hand off the sensor.

  “Now you know why we keep Rachel in the basement,” Val said, as the doors closed.

  “Am I going to blow myself up with this thing?” Nikki asked, holding the phone at arm’s length.

  “Possibly.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.”

  “I strive for honesty,” replied Val. “I don’t usually make it, but I do try.”

  CALIFORNIA XV

  Gym Stones

  Evening had closed into full dark and they drove through darkened streets that seemed to be full of small Hondas with underbody neon and pimped-out Caddies sporting huge stereos and bizarre hydraulics, and pulled up in front of a large, square building.

  “Did you bring gym clothes?” Val asked abruptly.

  “Yeah, in my bag somewhere.”

  “Good, let’s go to the gym. I need a workout.”

  Nikki nodded as Val took a sudden right. They pulled up outside a dark-looking building with papered-over windows and an aura of pending abandonment. Val’s idea of a gym was definitely not Nikki’s idea of a gym.

  Val had hopped out with her gym bag, as if it wasn’t a big deal that three large men wearing wool caps and tank tops were loitering suspiciously around the entrance. The men gave Val the head jerk acknowledgment and scanned Nikki’s ass like professional ass appreciators. Nikki wished she’d worn something more covering. Possibly something like a burka. Then she got pissed off. It was her ass. It was adequately covered and there was no reason why she should have to feel embarrassed. But she did anyway.

  “So, um, what kind of gym is this?” she asked when they were inside the lobby.

  “Kick-boxing,” Val said.

  “Oh.”

  “You know how to fight, right?”

  “Uh, well, you know, we covered it in training and everything. But truthfully, I think I’m more about the gentle way.” The “gentle way” was a rough translation of judo, but from Val’s blank stare, Nikki guessed she didn’t know that. Nikki had meant the remark to be a little funny, but she guessed that Val didn’t know that, either.

  “Right,” Val said incredulously. “Well, here they’re more about the ‘kick you in the face’ way.”

  “Well, that could work, too, I guess,” Nikki said, feeling like an idiot and wishing Jenny or Ellen were with her.

  They walked through double swinging doors and onto the main floor of the gym. The center was taken up by a full-size boxing ring; the edges of the room had been sectioned off into weights, heavy bags, and smaller rings. On the far side of the room a guy was hitting the heavy bag. At first glance he looked a little pudgy, but every blow moved the heavy bag sideways in the air. A couple of other guys were doing manly workout things with weights. Nikki watched as a skinny dude with abs like a twenty-four pack worked crunches on an incline bench. He’d been doing them since they walked in the door and he didn’t show any signs of stopping.

  After changing in the women’s locker room that Nikki suspected had once been a broom closet, she and Val started the work-out proper. They alternated their weight sets with cardio sets of jumping rope, and by the time Val was ready to spar, Nikki was sweating profusely. She was also acutely aware of the slowly fading bumps and long purple bruise left by her dirt bike crash on the final training test. As she strapped on the shin pads and footgear, a short, stocky Hispanic man approached her.

  “Hola, Domingo,” Val said when he got closer.

  “
Hola,” he replied.

  “Nikki, introduce yourself to Domingo.”

  “Hola, Domingo. Me llamo Nikki. Es agradable satisfacerle.” She was excited for a chance to practice her Spanish.

  “Slow down there, babe,” Domingo said. “I may look Mexican, but I was born in freaking Idaho. The only thing I do in Mexican is order food.”

  “Sorry,” she said awkwardly, grabbing for her headgear and dropping it on the ground. She wanted to correct his use of Mexican versus Spanish, but it was his language, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself more than she already had.

  “S’okay,” he said, picking up the headgear and handing it back to her.

  Nikki threaded her ponytail through the helmet and jammed it down on her head.

  “Val, I’m glad you came in,” Domingo said, turning away from Nikki. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I wanted to talk to you about the . . . thing.”

  “Everything working out OK?” Val asked.

  “Yeah, more than OK. I wanted to thank you.”

  “Forget about it,” Val answered, cutting him off. “This makes us square, right?”

  “Five by five,” Domingo replied with a firm nod.

  “Good. I don’t like leaving my markers out there,” said Val, shaking his hand as if sealing a bargain.

  “So,” said Domingo, turning back to Nikki, his business apparently concluded, “you’re going to go ten rounds with Muhammad Al-Val, huh?” Nikki paused in pulling on her hand gear. She didn’t like the sound of that.

  “It’s just a couple of rounds for fun,” she said weakly.

  “Well, fun for me, anyway,” Val said, shoving in her black mouthpiece and grinning. When she smiled, the black plastic gave her a creepy, toothless look. Nikki put in her own white mouth guard and gestured for Val to lead the way.

  “I think I’ll stick around and ref,” Domingo said. Val shrugged, but Nikki was relieved.

  Val tended to kick in a sharp, upward, flicking motion directly into Nikki’s ribs, and when Nikki lowered her guard to protect her ribs, Val punched her in the head. Nikki tried to work to the angles and use her footwork; she threw everything she could think of, but it was as if Val could see everything Nikki was going to do from a mile away. For every point she scored, Val got two. Valerie Robinson was just better.

  Domingo called points and generally controlled the speed and ferocity of the matches, which Nikki appreciated, but by round three she felt her temper rising. And then, in a sort of cosmic gold star granted for some previous lifetime’s good behavior, Val skipped forward in a long, jumping front kick and Nikki slid off to the side at the last possible moment. There was a momentary tangle of limbs, and Nikki found herself in the perfect position for a hip throw. She grabbed Val by the neck and wrist and swung her down in a perfect arc. About halfway through, she decided to take the ride with her and they both landed with a thump on the mat, with Nikki on top with an unbreakable hold on Val’s head and arm. Val bridged her back and tried to roll, but Nikki shifted her weight over her shoulder blades and forced Valerie back down, tightening her grip around Val’s neck and arm. She hadn’t dated a wrestler in high school for nothing. Val was squirming, and Nikki thought about letting go. She knew that it wouldn’t be long until Val ran out of air. She didn’t want to be responsible for choking out her partner on the first day. For a second Nikki wavered, and then she felt the meanspirited part of herself that always wanted to win flicker to life, and she squeezed harder. Domingo went down on the mat with them and be scrutinized the space between the floor and Val’s back until it ceased to exist.

  “That’s it, babe,” he said, slapping the floor with his palm. “You’re done. Tap now before she puts you out,” he advised.

  The tension ran out of Val’s body.

  “OK, let me up.” Val didn’t sound pissed, but Nikki offered her a helping hand a little hesitantly.

  Domingo started the next round, and Nikki ate a front kick to the gut. The air went out of her lungs like a whoopee cushion without the humor. She sat down making gasping noises.

  “Lay down and stretch out your stomach,” ordered Domingo.

  “You OK there, kid?” Val asked, taking out her mouth guard and leaning over.

  “Man, Red,” said Domingo, appearing in her view. “When you get nailed like that, you just got to blitz like mad and worry about it later. You don’t want them to know you don’t have any air. Right?”

  Nikki nodded, unable to make any other comment on the subject.

  “We’ll call it a night, then, shall we?” Val asked. “We want to be well rested for the flight tomorrow.” She grinned and gave Nikki a padded thumbs-up.

  Nikki nodded again. There was nothing else to do.

  CALIFORNIA XVI

  Sake Time

  Nikki stripped off her gear slowly. Sweat coated the interior of the latex foam, and there was a slight pop of broken suction as she slid off the shin guards. Val pulled off her gear and dressed easily, with none of the winces or groans that Nikki was making. Nikki wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to make conversation now that Val had kicked her ass.

  “Sushi,” announced Val, zipping her gear bag shut with a sound of ripping finality and walking briskly out of the locker room. Nikki yanked on her sneakers and hurried after Val, struggling to do up the button fly on her jeans and manage her awkward bundle of sweaty clothes at the same time.

  “Sushi?” repeated Nikki, as they approached the car.

  “For dinner.”

  “Sushi would be good,” Nikki said cautiously.

  “Great, I know just the spot. We’ll get take-out and go to my place.”

  Val drove the Impala with her customary speed, but without her customary cigarette. Nikki noticed that she seemed more relaxed than she had been at any time besides while shoe shopping. It seemed worthy of note that ass-kicking equaled a happy partner.

  They had been driving in silence for several miles when Nikki’s phone rang, startling her into a seat-bouncing hop, which caused Val to cast an amused look in her direction. Nikki fumbled on the floor for her purse, and then dug around until she found the phone. Flipping it open, she saw her mother’s number on the Caller ID. With a sigh, she pushed the Talk button.

  “Hey, Mom,” said Nikki. She caught Val giving her a quizzical look.

  “Darling, I was starting to think you had broken all of your fingers.”

  “Just the dialing ones,” Nikki said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You know, you could call a bit more frequently.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been busy.” Understatement of the year.

  “Yes, how’s the new job going?”

  “Oh, you know, it has its ups and downs.” She still hadn’t told her mom about the “clandestine” aspects of her job, and doubted that she was ever going to.

  “Are you through with training yet?”

  “Yeah, kinda. I’m . . .” Nikki wasn’t sure how to describe her evening so far. “I guess I’m into the orientation phase now.”

  “Well, what kind of stuff are you doing?”

  Nell had picked a fine time to be interested in Nikki’s life.

  “Um.” Nikki shuffled through recent events, trying to find one suitable for the public. “I’m going to a conference on women’s health.”

  “Really? Where’s that?”

  “Thailand,” said Nikki, without thinking.

  “What?!” Nell’s shriek was deafening and loud enough that even Val looked startled.

  “Nicole, I don’t think I’m comfortable with your going to Thailand.”

  “Mom, it’s for work. I have to. I told you there might be travel involved.”

  “Do you have all your shots?”

  “You don’t need shots for Thailand.”

  “I don’t know, Nikki. I don’t like all this travel.” Nikki sighed. Her mother wasn’t comfortable with her going much of anywhere. The only Lanier who ever traveled was her father.
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  “It’s the job, Mom. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “Well, you call me the minute you get there.”

  “Sure, Mom. I’ll call. Look, Mom, I’ve got to go. I’m with . . .” Nikki hesitated, trying to find ways to explain Valerie Robinson, and then gave up. There wasn’t any way to explain Val, and she wanted her mother off the phone. She used the one line that always worked. “I’m on a date.” In her mother’s eyes, nothing was as important as a man.

  “Nikki! Why didn’t you say so? Call me later.”

  “OK,” Nikki agreed.

  “OK, bye.” Nell rushed to get off the phone and Nikki let her go, feeling only slightly guilty.

  “Bye,” Nikki said, and hung up the phone with relief.

  “Jeez, kid, you don’t have mother issues or anything.”

  “I don’t have mother issues. I have a mother,” Nikki said, rubbing her temples.

  “Yeah, and not a lot of backbone. Have you tried telling her to go to hell?”

  “It’s more trouble than it’s worth, and I just don’t like trouble.”

  “You picked just the right career for yourself, then, didn’t you?” Val said. “Here’s my sushi place. Wait here. Won’t be a minute.” Val jogged into the restaurant and returned a few minutes later with carefully bagged boxes, which she dropped neatly into Nikki’s lap.

  A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a small house that unexpectedly made Nikki long for Washington. The Craftsman construction of thick, square beams and geometric design looked very much like the first house her mother had rented after the move to Tacoma.

  The neighborhood seemed strangely quiet after the rushing wind of a moving convertible. Val walked to the rear of the car. Opening the trunk, she tossed Nikki her backpack. Nikki managed to catch it and swung it up onto one shoulder without dropping the food.

  “You’re selling your house?” asked Nikki, walking past a Realtor’s sign.