Accidental Makeovers Read online

  I shake off my whiny girl thoughts, and tap Eric’s number. If I can’t control my relationship, at least I can take charge of my career. I am my mother’s daughter, after all.

  “Hello, Eric? This is Bianca Osbourne returning your call.”

  Max

  “Do you see yourself? Laughing like a girl…I swear, Bianca has turned you into a pu—”

  “Men do find things funny, Rob. You should have seen your face when that woman tried to tell you that she needed cooling off in her bedroom.”

  I bust out again and Rob continues to glare and shake his head.

  “Hey, I can’t help it if all the chicks want me. She wasn’t bad for a woman her age. I bet she was no older than Sharon. Now, there’s a woman I wouldn’t mind—”

  “Bianca would stab you. I mean it. She would gut you like a—”

  “I’m just kidding. Jeez…so do we have any jobs today that don’t involve morbid old ladies or horny housewives?”

  Rob opens up his lunch box and starts chowing down on something delicious looking. Nobody makes me a sandwich like that. I have to hit the Wendy’s drive-thru for one of those bacon heart attack burgers.

  “Yes, we have a commercial job this afternoon. Should be all guys, so normal people for a change.” I pause and say, “But you know, there was a time when I would have left you to finish that last job and met up with you after lunch. She was pretty hot. What’s going on with you? Are you really serious about Diamond?”

  Rob throws his sandwich down onto his lap. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Well that chick did say her blower wasn’t working, and she licked her lips when she clarified that her other blower works fine.”

  I try not to laugh so Rob doesn’t punch me while I’m driving again.

  “Yep, I would have banged her in the past. But not now. Diamond is all I need.”

  Rob continues to eat his sandwich as I pull up to the drive-thru window.

  “Hey, are you feelin’ okay?”

  I touch his forehead like Ma used to do when we were kids. Of course, Rob swats my hand away.

  His menacing act doesn’t work on me. Even though he’s bigger and older, I used to routinely win our ass kicking contests when we were kids. And as we got older, he was always more wasted when I had to drag him out of bars to avoid fights.

  “Fuck you, Max. And if you tell anyone I said that about Diamond, I will kill you.”

  Good thing Mrs. Rathburn didn’t hear that.

  “Okay, man. Take it easy.” I pause to order my healthy lunch and as I pull forward to pay, I add, “It’s good. I’m happy for ya. Really. So how’s it goin’ with the kid?”

  Diamond’s daughter, Ruby, is almost two, I think. I know she’s older than Mick.

  “Not bad. Her old man takes her enough so we have our alone time. She’s cute—looks just like her mother. Hey, I was thinking—maybe we should take the rug rats somewhere. You know, like a picnic or to feed the ducks at the park. Shit like we did when we were kids.”

  I still feel like I need to look around for the alien spaceship that abducted my brother, but I’ll play along.

  “Yeah, we could do that. Like a dad’s outing.”

  I pay and grab my food bag, thanking the same lady who works here every lunch shift.

  “Would Diamond want you to take her kid out without her?”

  “Yeah, she trusts me. Well, actually I don’t know what I would do if she had to pee. She’s potty training, but she needs…hey, maybe we could bring the women, too.”

  Rob wants Bianca and Diamond to get along. He won’t say it out loud because he’s too much of a guy to admit to any more feelings. Just now he’s admitted to more than I have ever heard since he was a little kid.

  I worry about this big idiot. I still think if Diamond could get her claws into Brandon, she would jump at the chance. Literally.

  But I don’t know. If Rob can change, maybe Diamond can.

  I’m no expert on human behavior, that’s for sure.

  Bianca would surely agree with that statement. I didn’t have the best role model. Pop is mostly an asshole. Not a good husband. Sure as shit never took his kids to feed any ducks.

  But the Buczkowski boys know how to treat their mother. And I want my kid to have it better and be proud of his old man.

  Too bad my old lady is so hard to please.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Bianca

  Nothing is going to wipe the smile off my face today.

  What an amazingly exciting conversation with Eric! Once I got past my initial awkwardness on the phone yesterday, we agreed to meet today. He said, “Just bring yourself and your ideas. Raven raved about you.”

  Then he laughed at his word usage, but not in a ‘self-important dickhead’ way. More like a ‘isn’t talking about business fun’ sort of way.

  I told Max about it last night, but not until we were getting ready for bed.

  “So, you’re meeting this guy tomorrow?”

  He pulled off his shirt and for a moment the sight of his chest and stomach made me forget that I am perpetually annoyed with him.

  “Yes, at lunchtime.”

  My fingers were crossed that he wasn’t going to say they had a light load and he could meet us during the work day. I know Max runs a business, but it is night and day from my new endeavor.

  I also have a feeling that Max and Eric don’t share anything in common but male body parts.

  Luckily he agreed that I should go to my meeting alone, and that he was being a jerk.

  He may have meant that, or he may have said it because he was in the mood for something other than talking—which I was not complaining about. It’s amazing how having a baby and living together can kill your sex life. That and a complete disregard for the other person’s feelings and personal space. That’s not helpful, either.

  Driving home, I turn onto our street and marvel that my mother inherited this beautiful row house from her grandmother. Grandma Valerie didn’t want or need it, so ownership has skipped a generation.

  But it’s not mine. It’s Mom’s, and I don’t know how I am ever going to convince Max that we need our own home. He needs to look at his driver’s license and let his age sink into his brain. A twenty-eight year old man with a child should not be squatting in his girlfriend’s mother’s house. And the truth is—he earns a decent amount of money. However, he likes to say that I am not pulling my weight, so he’s cautious with his money. He won’t be able to say that now, because after today I think my luck is changing.

  I pull up in front of the house and park on the street—that’s one minus of city living—you have to be an expert parallel parker. I’m getting better, and I admire my perfectly aligned little car on the way up the walkway. The flowers on the front porch are blooming and we still have our bunny flag flying. My mother tried to take it down but Mick started crying. He is obsessed with bunnies.

  “Hey, Mom, I’m back.” I can’t wait to tell her all about the meeting. I thought about calling Max, but I refuse to take any chances with his ‘bubble bursting’ attitude.

  Mom appears in the foyer and says, “So what happened? Tell me everything.”

  As always, she’s wiping her hands on a dish towel. This woman never stops cooking. As if on cue, she whips out her latest creation.

  “Try one of these. I’m thinking of adding them to the brunch menu.”

  I put my purse on the counter and bite into a delicious concoction. “What is this? I know it’s a quiche, but what kind?”

  “It’s an apple and cheddar quiche, with olive oil and thyme crust. It’s good, right?”

  She smiles expectantly, and of course I tell her it’s amazing. You would think I would have gotten the cooking bug from her, but I didn’t. Sure, I make a good sous chef, and I help her all the time, but on my own I don’t cook.

  I secretly wonder if that’s another reason Max wants to stay here. His mother is supposedly the best cook, but whenever we go over there she makes
basic stuff—a roast beef, a ham, or maybe some Polish sausage.

  Between my mother’s culinary skills and Mrs. Buczkowski’s perceived abilities, I decided long ago that Max would never be happy with anything I cook. We used to order pizza and Chinese when we were dating. When we craved real food, we went to one of the mothers’ houses for dinner.

  “Sooo, was this guy for real or what?”

  We sit at the kitchen table, after Mom informs me that Mick and Phoebe are napping. I have to go peek in on them because what is cuter than a red-headed toddler boy snuggling with a tiny white Maltese girl?

  I quickly snap a couple of pictures. People will like the hell out of that on Facebook. And I can show Eric, and all of the women at the salon. He seemed interested in hearing about my little ones.

  I hurry back to the kitchen because I think Mom is going to die of suspense.

  “Okay, whew. Yes, he was amazing. So professional and smart. And nice!”

  I know I’m gushing like a cheerleader, but he made me feel so at ease.

  “That’s great, but is there a real job?”

  I go on to describe the way the salon operates, and that all of the stylists rent space from the shops, and basically run their own businesses within the business.

  “But if someone is new, Raven insists upon paying them a salary for six months, until they get their clientele on board. I thought that was a pretty good deal. Eric said the demand for my services is high, and they actually were thinking of adding a makeup artist to the mix, even before I was dragged under the table at the wedding.”

  “So there should be some built-in business, and Violet and I can still cross market for you. Brides that want a makeup artist for their wedding usually want one for other stuff, too. Then there are all the proms—who do we know with a connection there?” Mom’s marketing brain is off and running.

  “Eric is going to run an advertising campaign with all of the existing customers and in the local media. Mom, the women who frequent this salon are not like you and me. These are high end people.”

  “Well, don’t get all crazy thinking they’re better than you. I didn’t raise you that way. I hate to ask this, but what did he say about your arm? Obviously he saw your tattoos? And your nose…thingie?”

  My mother is supportive of my body modifications, but like many parents she worries that they will hold me back career-wise. Up until now, it hasn’t mattered.

  My right arm is a sleeve of tattoos, from wrist to shoulder. Blue flowers mixed in with various skulls. The artistry is amazing. One of the senior tattoo artists at Zoe’s shop did the work, when I used to work there, and it took almost a year to get it all done. Hurt like a bitch, but I love it.

  “Of course he saw my arm. I’m wearing short sleeves. I know, you’re thinking Raven didn’t see it at the wedding. I was a little worried about that, and of course my current employer forces me to remove my septum piercing on the job.”

  I smirk as my mother fidgets. I love to make her feel guilty, but I understand the type of customers she attracts. I am not one of those people who is unreasonable about taking out my piercings. I get it that not everyone understands.

  “Mom. I’m teasing you. I know why you ask me to do it. But he didn’t say anything, and Raven called me right after we finished our meeting. I guess Eric texted her with the green light. She also said that I impressed him with my business acumen and my desire to succeed. It’s like I became a better version of myself as soon as I shook his hand.”

  “You’re a smart girl, Bianca. I know you can make a success of this.”

  She gets up to hug me and I get teary-eyed.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry to be leaving you short-handed going into wedding and graduation season.”

  She dismisses my apology and we talk about who she could possibly hire to replace me. She gets applications all the time, and decides to ask her current staff for referrals.

  “But not that Jack. He’s ‘doing the pooch’ too often. I may need to loosen his leash and let him run free.”

  She laughs at her feeble attempt at a dog pun mixed with urban slang, but she hardly ever fires anyone. Unless they’re caught stealing or they do something improper with a guest at an event, she keeps her people and tries to work with them. For the most part she is rewarded for her kindness.

  “Oh, and Eric and I talked about how lucky I was that Raven happened to be hiding under the table at her wedding while I was cleaning up the glasses.”

  Mom quickly swallows her quiche and smiles. “Yeah, but no one else thought so. The Alexanders were out a pretty penny for that shindig, but I’m glad that both of them avoided a disastrous marriage. Of course he could have made his announcement before they exchanged vows.”

  She rolls her eyes and puts the tray of quiches back on the counter. We try not to gorge ourselves on our sample tastings, and anyway, Max will destroy those later.

  “Eric also said that I should thank her husband for being gay. I almost spit my drink. We agreed that I should march in the Gay Pride parade in Corey’s honor. I told him I actually did attend a Gay Pride rally once, with my mother.”

  I beam at my young, hip mom. I know Claire’s mother certainly wouldn’t do that, and Max’s mom wouldn’t even know what we were talking about.

  “Everything is working out the way it’s supposed to. It always does. So when do you start?”

  “He’s working on the media blitz this week…this seems to be a big catchphrase with him…and I’m meeting him on Monday at the salon to get started. So that gives us almost a week to prepare, and I can wrap things up with you and our events as much as possible. Oh, and I get to order an insane amount of beautiful cosmetics to get started. He gave me all the links to the vendor sites, and tah dah…a huge bag of samples!”

  My mother’s eyes widen. She did teach me my love of makeup. Her face is fully made up at all times, even if she’s only staying home with a baby and a fur ball.

  “You want to dig into that loot, don’t you? Do you have time for makeovers this afternoon?” I give her the ‘pretty please’ face like I did when I was little.

  Just the thought of playing with pretty, sparkly things for a JOB has me feeling that child-like glow of excitement—like the way Mick feels when he sees a dump truck…or a bunny.

  God help Max if he tries to burst this bubble.

  Max

  “Did you see that asshole? He touched her hand? Is that what people do in the ‘real’ business world? I wanted to pull the van over and break that fuc—”

  “Bro, chill out. Jeez…you’re gonna give yourself a stroke. It’s not like you caught him with his tongue down her throat. Some people are touchy like that. I think you’re overreacting.”

  Rob tries to rationalize what we saw, but he’s full of shit.

  “Really? What if that was your precious Diamond?”

  I cut the van’s engine in front of the Harley shop. Today was supposed to be a kick-ass day where I reward myself for hard work and success. Instead I got to drive by that snooty café and see my girlfriend and that wussbag of a ‘business manager’ gettin’ cozy while I’m out bustin’ my hump…

  “Oh, if it was Diamond I would rip that fucker’s head off.”

  The vein pops in Rob’s neck, but then he plasters on a fake smile, obviously to prevent me from committing a crime on a day when I am receiving delivery of two of life’s most prized possessions.

  “You know you would. I haven’t dragged you out of a bar on several occasions because you were okay with a guy touching your woman. And now she’s probably going to be working with this guy. And who knows if there is really any ‘work.’ Maybe this rich Raven chick set this whole thing up because Bianca told her I was a terrible boyfriend.”

  Rob puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head. “I swear, if I wanted a woman for a partner I would have asked Ma to join me in business. Or better yet, one of our band groupies. I’d have to do the work, but the fringe benefits would be great.”

&
nbsp; We actually have some bona fide groupies now that we’re on a light out-of-town tour schedule. Who would have believed it?

  “Sure, laugh all you want.” I get out of the van and Rob reluctantly follows. I hand him the keys. “I know, why don’t we have lunch at Hooters one day this week. When is Diamond’s next shift?”

  “She made me promise not to…okay, I get your point. In order to stay out of jail and be a supportive, non-dickhead guy, I promised to let her handle the guys on the job, and do her own thing. Maybe you should try that.”

  “Just drive the van back to the house for me. And if you can stop acting like an asshole long enough, I’ll give you a ride back home. Or back to Diamond’s so you can check her for…alright, Jeez, I need that arm.”

  I shake free from Rob’s grip. Shit, I think he’s been working out a lot more than me lately. I guess Diamond’s cooking isn’t as rich in fat and calories as what Sharon serves to her party guests.

  If we hurry up, we can get home in time for my other delivery. I can’t wait to see Birdie’s face. She’ll be so happy and proud of me, and maybe her love fest will help me diffuse my temper over what I saw today. Either way, I think this is gonna be a great day for all of us.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sharon

  “Come on, Phoebe. Let’s go inside. It’s almost time for dinner.”

  My sweet, little fluffy girl romps towards the back door. We just spent a couple of hours working on some new recipes in my catering kitchen, after Bianca and I played with makeup for a while.

  Yes, I have my own onsite facility in my back yard. The fencing in this neighborhood creates loads of privacy, and luckily because we are in the city, this lot is zoned commercial.

  My grandmother fought with a few neighbors years ago over her alterations business, and the traffic they were worried about, but it thrived in the little shop in the backyard.