"Hey girl!" Jenna shouts as she enters Sephora.
"Oh, thank God, please help," I cry, holding four different tubes of foundation, some bronzing stuff, and a few pallet thingies of eye shadow.
"Whoa, whoa, sister, slow down. What's going on? You just said meet you at Sephora, and here I find you loaded up with a shit ton of makeup."
"OK, you want the long story or the short one?" I ask, dumping the makeup I'd collected into the basket Jenna had grabbed.
"Give me the short, and you can always elaborate later."
"So my day goes like this: I workout way too fucking early, take an ice cold shower, erm, makeout with my boss, have a glitter bomb go off over my head, and now I have to buy and wear makeup for a photo shoot," I say, adrenaline shooting through me while I feel like I'm having heart palpitations.
"Dear Sweet Baby Jesus, you kissed that already? That's my girl," Jenna cheers, jumping around and shaking her ass a little bit.
"Shhh," I say, moving to cover her mouth. "Don't announce it to the world. I just, umm, made out with my boss, and I'm pretty sure that is against code of conduct and would get me fired. You know, AGAIN. For the same shitty reason. Ish. I don't know. All I know is I need help, and you're the only girl I trust to fit me out with a full face of makeup. So get to it. We have the company card and a five hundred dollar limit."
"Well, shit, we can get you the good stuff. Alright, let's start with the basics. Let's put these,"—she instructs, grabbing the tubes of foundation out of my hands—"back, and go to the good brands. Now, we just need to color match you."
"Well, hey there, Jenna, long time no see," a girl in a red frock says, coming up to us. "How's it been?"
"Hey Chelle, it's good. Oh, this is Blake. She needs the full works makeover," Jenna says, gesturing at me.
"Oh nice. Got a hot date or something?"
"Or something," I respond, loathing the bubbly attitude of this girl. Anyone wearing that much makeup without grimacing has got to be high maintenance. I'd rather sleep the extra half hour in the morning, thank you very much.
Between the two of them, I get dolled up. They insist I need two foundations, one for home and one for work. I get two concealers, two powders, two bronzers, two blushes, and two eye shadow primers. They are making me tired and dizzy with all of this. I have no idea how to be so girly. The best I can do some days is put a bra on when I get out of bed.
After they mix and match and figure that stuff out, I figure I'm done, right? Nope, apparently there's more to makeup. Add in like seven eye shadow pallets, some similar, some different, and four mascaras because apparently you need one for home bathroom, one for work, one for the car, and one for your purse. Who knew you needed so many?! Finally, to round it off, they get me a package of like eight sets of false eyelashes because apparently mine are puny. Then they start off on this bunny trail about getting eyelash extensions and lash lifts, and I walk away to look at the pretty sparkly stuff.
At some point Jenna notices their living doll has wandered off only "partially finished" and comes and grabs me gently, herding me to the lip station.
All I see are hundreds of lippies. Glosses, matte, stick, they all just run together. You want to know how many lippies we bought? Twenty. They tried over thirty on me, scrubbing my lips raw after each one. Now I look like I've been kissed by a herd of angry bees. Or is it a flock? A fluff?
"Ok, ENOUGH. I have more makeup than I will ever use, some of which I have no idea how to use or when or in what order. Shit, I don’t know anything about this crap," I rant, ready to scrub my face and call it a day.
"Oh, crap, we forgot brushes, sponges, and cleaners," Chelle says. Jenna not-so-gently pulls me by the arm over to their application station. I ponder throwing a full on two year old in Wally World tantrum but decide against it. Who knows how many people with dog crap on their shoes have walked on this floor today.
Finally, they say they're done. When the total rings up, I have two reactions. First, I want to freak out at the price since it's WAY above my limit. Second... I rub my hands together.
"You know, Jenna, you did all this work picking things out for me. I think the company should thank you. Why don't you get yourself something too?" I grin, the evil me coming out to play.
"Well, I wouldn't want you to get mad at me if I were to refuse, so I guess I had better pick out at least a shadow palette and a lipstick for my troubles," she says pleasantly, catching on.
When the last and final bill comes up, we've almost doubled my allowance. "Well, ladies," I say, "I pray this day is a day that all men remember. Never give three women plastic and expect them to stay at the limit. Am I right?"
The two loudly cheer in response.. All three of us grin at each other, and Jenna and I each pick up three bags and head to Cherry. This is going to be good.
Jenna and I walk into SHG like the queens we are, three bags each, sunglasses on and hair flowing in the wind, or at least that's what I think I look like. You know those memes that pop around with expectations versus reality? Yeah, that's us right now. It's more like the wind is whipping my hair in my face, I'm eating half of it, my sunglasses almost fall off when I shake my head to stop eating my hair, and then I trip over my own feet. So much for a grand entrance.
We walk in and head straight for Bossman's open door. Moving my hair out of my face, I scootch my glasses up on top of my head and enter.
"Hey Bossman, got everything I should need for now," I tell him.
"No, she didn't, but she cut me off," Jenna chimes.
"Bossman, Jenna. Jenna, Bossman. And I only cut you off a little. Here's the card back, sorry we had to go over, but a girl’s got to look fucking pretty, and good makeup is expensive." We start heading for the door, nothing on Bossman's face but horror and bewilderment.
It's only after we exit his office that I yell back, "Oh yeah. I need a fucking mirror to myself if you want me to look good." Giggling, we pick up the pace toward the lockers. It's nearly five already, and she has to give me a glam look for the pictures tonight.
This time, we do walk through the doors like we own them. "Oi! Cover your cocks. Anyone who doesn't want a makeup lesson, OUT," my bestie hollers as she enters the room. Masculine chuckles follow her, and a few guys exit, others staying behind getting dressed or ready to shower. Or there's Aster, I think his name is, who just grins at us from the open showers. Oh, and North.
North sees Jenna and thrusts his hips at her.
“North, you fucking asshole, quit being a prick!” I yell. “Ignore him, darling, he’s nothing but an ass.”
Jenna is completely lacking in the "politely don't stare" thing because she's totally checking these guys out. We're talking full blown stop for a moment in the middle of the road, huge eyes, mouth agape, checking them out. I don't blame her. Aster's got this dark brown, nearly black wavy hair that has these natural red streaks in it. His eyes are a unique blend of gray-blue with a ring of brown around them. That, combined with the six pack and dick he's just letting hang around, definitely make him a contender for show stopper. North, though, I blame her for.
I drag her around by the arm, passing the lockers and heading over to the only big mirror in the place. Thankfully, we have a lady who comes in daily to clean the locker room because otherwise I can't imagine how it would look. It's been a whole day, and there are already shavings in the sink, hair product gunked all over, and the hairspray has left its residue on pretty much the whole mirror.
The counter draws Jenna out of Aster/North-staring, and I can tell the moment she wakes up. She grinds to a stunned stop, her mouth opens and closes, and she gets flushed and starts swinging her bags around.
"What— who? Who uses this crap? And why is it such a mess? Oh no, no, no, no, no. We will NOT be having you share a mirror and counter with anyone this messy who uses such shit product. I'm gonna need that credit card back, so I can supply the guys with some stuff that will actually work and not gunk up." She shudders at the mess of cheap-ass pr
oduct.
"So, where do we start?" I ask.
"First, we clean this shitty mess up. Then I go yell at your boss. Then I give you a great makeover so you look and feel fabulous. Now, where are your outfits for the shoot?" she asks.
"I don't know which ones they want me to wear, but here are my lockers. Oh," I say, opening the locker doors. "Someone pulled them out and labeled them 'Photo shoot' for me. It better not have been Drake or Landon going through my things," I mumble, heat rising to my cheeks. "So help me, if it was them, I will—"
"Yo dork, it says here it's from Presley. Who's that? Another one of those hot Santas?" Jenna asks.
"Ah, morning receptionist. It's Sarah here tonight, the one that I probably traumatized. Oh well, she can deal. I'm sure I'm not the first person to come in here and be a pain in the ass."
"No, but you're definitely one of the most annoying people I know and love." I glare at Jenna's words. "Hey, I said 'and love.' No need to give me the death glare. I think you can just be, you know, a little bit of a pain. Not a whole lot, just enough to make someone slightly crazy. Now, where's the cleaning cart and a garbage can? I'll donate some damned product if I need to," she grumbles, digging around in the back cleaning corner.
Finding what she wants, Jenna comes back and quickly cleans off the whole area, moving all the men's products to a box and pulling up a stool. The woman is quick, efficient, and slightly scary, to be honest.
"Sit," she demands, "and let me get everything out." She pulls out and separates all the makeup into two piles, one on each side.
"This," she says as she gestures to the smaller pile, "is your stuff for our place. I'll take it home with me and help you learn to apply it and stuff. This," she continues, motioning to the larger pile on the right, "is to stay here. This is going to be where you match with your outfits and such. And this tiny pile is for your purse. Basic lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner. Can't go anywhere without those three things on, at a minimum.” Pausing her seemingly endless directions, she points to the left. “Now, let's get this pile in a bag to go home. Then we need to get a move on the rest of this and get you dolled up. I'll do your face tonight, but you'll need to learn how to do all of this eventually."
"Not fair. I can put mascara and lip gloss on," I exclaim, turning on my stool to face her with my hands on my hips.
"I'm sure you think you can."
"Hey sexy, I'll take a lesson in makeup," one of the guys, Phoenix, I think, laughs out.
"Nah," I jest, "there's no fixing that ugly mug of yours, toots. Not even the best makeup in the world can fix a face only a blind mother could love."
The few guys left in here start ribbing on Phoenix.
"Nix, she's right."
"Burn. Need some ice?"
And so on. Used to men going back and forth (because lawyers all think they have the biggest dick and love to metaphorically measure them), I turn back to the mirror and start moving stuff around in the order I think it goes. I'm probably wrong, but it's worth a shot. After a few moments of Jenna shooing me from the makeup, I look up. She's staring at the guys, who are all mid-change. There are some fine asses in this room, and every now and then you get a peek at some of the packages, too.
"Hey, Earth to Jenna. What's in your head?" I wave for her attention.
"Most of these guys REALLY need to wax. Wait, what? Sorry. Back to your face." Jenna, blushing like a mad woman, turns back to me, and I just grin at her.
"You get used to it, I’m sure," I say, shrugging as I open the eyeshadow palettes. "Oh, I forgot how pretty these are! Can we use them all?" It's like I've been transformed into a teenage girl on Christmas. Eww.
Jenna just laughs at me and shakes her head, the right side of her mouth tipping up. "We are going to do a basic smokey eye that will go with all your outfits. Now, this can be simplified, or it can be glammed up. I propose we do medium first, then I can layer for some of these more elegant pieces."
And so the makeup tutorial begins. Jenna turns me from the mirror and has me face her as I learn eyes, face, contouring, layering, lashes, lips, even some contouring on my chest. Like, really? This is a thing that people do? I'm completely out of my comfort zone, and I think Jenna can tell by the way she's looking at me and giggling.
Finally, over thirty minutes later, she proclaims me finished.
"Go ahead and close your eyes, turn, and wait for me to say 'open,' ok?"
I just roll my eyes and grin, closing my eyes and lifting my brows while keeping my grin in place. I hear her heels click away, then come back again. Impatient, I give a little cough.
"Hold your damned horses, woman. It's going to be worth it," Jenna chuckles.
Almost a full minute later, she whisper yells, "Open them."
Immediately, I notice the gorgeous goddess looking back at me, and I yelp. "Holy shit, Jenna! She's a fucking Queen!"
"You mean, you’re a fucking queen. Told you I could make you look good." She smirks.
"I don't know how you did this, but holy wow. Ok, makeup isn't the spawn of the devil." I grin.
"Damn, Sweetness, you know how to make a man sweat," a deep voice rumbles from behind me.
Startled, I turn my head to look in the mirror further, where I see Landon, Drake, Seb, Aster, North, Nix, and a guy who must be some new Santa, all standing there looking at me. I get a few wolf whistles and hoots, and Drake even throws in a hand clap with his heated look. Heat is rising to my face, and I do my best to shrug it off, getting busy putting brushes and such back in the Sephora bag.
"Hey Bossman. Yeah, you," Jenna grounds out, staring at Drake. "You and I need to have a talk. This is no place for my girl to be getting ready. She needs her own damned dressing room or something."
"I'm afraid that probably won't happen. She signed on to be a part of the crew, so this is being part of the crew."
"What, watching cocks all day long? Nope, nuh uh. And on the subjects of cocks, these guys need some product for their hair that will actually work all day and hold up and not be shitty." Scary Jenna stands up. "I'm gonna need that card back. I'll get it for you at my price and won't even charge you for my time and expertise. And you guys," she says, waving her hand around at the small group of Santas, "some of you need a waxed chest or back or, hell, even a complete wax of your junk. My girls do great work, and I have a male waxer as well, but for goodness sake. If you're going to be sexy Santas, at least do some man-scaping." The five Santas standing there are blushing a bit, and Aster is backing towards the door. Sebastion’s scuffing his foot while blushing way more than just a little. It's kind of nice to see Scary Jenna get on someone else for a change.
"You heard her boys. Get some 'scaping done," Drake says, shooing the guys out. "Ethan, I'll meet you in the office if you give me just a few."
"Sure thing, Drake. Ladies." The new guy nods to us and exits.
"Now, about this dressing room that's never going to happen. And what the hell is with all the makeup? You rang out at almost one thousand dollars for MAKEUP. And look," he says, gesturing at the small pile still on the counter and the bulging bag on the floor, "you didn't even use any of that. So no, I don't think you'll be getting anything else from me."
Having Bossman lecture me is one thing, but seeing him lay it on my Best Bitch Forever? No way, nuh uh, not happening.
"Listen here, Bossman," I say, finger going up and hand waving around. "Makeup is fucking expensive, especially good makeup." I throw both hands in the air. "We told you that. And not only that, but I have to have some for at home AND here," I say, losing control of myself and letting him have the hand waves. "If you want my face," I continue, pointing to the perfect goddess herself, "to be one of the faces for this business and be done up anytime I leave my apartment or here, then you better be damned sure I have what I need at both locations so I'm not lugging all this with me." With those parting words, I poke myself in the chest, unable to control my growing indignation. Heat is flaring up through my soul, and it's not the sexy kin
d. Standing, I move towards him and get as up in his face as I can, being a might bit shorter compared to him.
"I had to be poked and prodded and wiped off more times than I care to count, all so I could be the image you want." Still, I don't feel he is getting the point, so I climb on the bench next to him, finally tall enough to look down and poke him in the chest. "Do I feel pretty?" Poke. "Yes. Do I like it?" Poke. "Yes. Would I otherwise do this to myself every day of my life?" Double handed push that doesn't even move him a smidge, dammit. "HELL NO. I like sleep, and I like sweats and a tank and a messy bun run at two am to the corner gas station because I want ice cream." Bossman just looks impassively at me, crossing his arms across his chest. "So don't you even say a damned thing about this. You got it?"
I'm really up in his face at this point, and all he does is smirk while his eyes get that sexy heat to them. "Oh, I get it, Brat. Still doesn't mean you can't return that pile you didn't use."
Jenna jumps in finally with, "Oh, but she can't. Those are for those days you want her to have the more expensive look or for different events like you mentioned.” Shaking her head and tossing me a sly wink, she adds on, “Besides, returning makeup when you're a hot shot business like this would really look bad on your reputation. It would look like you either don't care about your female employee as much as you do your men, or it could look like you really can't afford it." She shakes her head again. "Neither of those options sound like a good plan to me, do they to you, Blake?"
I stand barely above Drake but still manage to cross my arms, pop my hip, and say, "No, I don't think so."
Drake just looks at us both, rolls his eyes, silently throws up his arms, and stalks out of the locker room.
Jenna and I look at each other and just laugh, high-fiving and grinning over our victory.
"Now," Jenna says, "let's set it with some spray and get your hair done. There are only fifteen minutes ‘til show time. How do you want it done today?"
I climb down off the bench and head for the stool again. "Just straighten it. That's how I'll likely wear it for everything but the high rolling nights. Those nights, I'm going to make Drake pay someone to do it for me."
A Naughty Santa Gram Page 10
