Page 39 of Eye Candy

“It’s funny that, what’s her name? Tess? Tessa? Whatever, your stepmother, pretended not to recognize me. The only reason your father got his foot in the door in the race at all was because of Sylvester’s support. My face is probably more well-known in this city than your father’s. I’m the Bloody Queen, baby. It ain’t your dear old dad that runs things—it’s me and my guys.”

From Night Slayer to the Bloody Queen. From serial killer to criminal queen. I didn’t know how she expected me to respond to all of that, so I simply said nothing.

“Now, enough about little ole me. Let’s move to you.” Lola touched the tips of my hair, gazing down at the color appreciatively. “You want a wig? Take your pick. Hell, take all of them. I’ll help you into it today and give you some pointers for the future, and then I can help you with your makeup.”

No one in their right mind would turn down Lola’s help. I pointed to the wig with the longer hair. “That one.”

“Good choice.” She picked it up, setting the wig on her hand as she fluffed the hair a bit. “Now, these can be styled, but be careful not to overdo it.” Something clicked in her head, and she looked at me, expectant. “I forgot I sent you Fang’s info. Did you ever contact him?”

It occurred to me then that she hadn’t even glanced down at my hand, at my missing fingers. It was like the injury wasn’t even there in her eyes.

“I actually went to his place the other day.” The day I’d heard from my Devil… who hadn’t messaged me again since. His silence was a little annoying, as was the fact I couldn’t message him back.

That got Lola to lift her blond eyebrows. “Really? Look at you, taking the initiative. I knew I liked you for a reason. I’ve never been to his place. How was it? How was he, for that matter? He’s a little… odd, isn’t he?”

I laughed softly. Odd was an understatement when describing Fang. The things he’d said… I struggled not to blush as I told her, “You didn’t tell me he’s got sharp metal fangs in his mouth.”Because he liked to bite.

“Come on, why would I ruin the surprise?” She grinned. “He is a character, that’s for sure.”

“His place was nice. He was… he was—” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence without sounding, for lack of a better term, like a girl with a crush.

Lola hummed. “I know what you mean. He’s a fine-looking man, that Fang.”

“That’s not—” I lost the battle against the heat creeping up in my cheeks. “I wasn’t saying that.” Even I didn’t believe me, so there was no way in hell Lola would. Since I knew I couldn’t defend myself against her assumptions, I kept quiet after that.

“Hey, Fang’s an odd one, but like I said, he’s fine. And beyond that, I trust him with you. There aren’t many men in this city I could say the same thing about. My guys, duh. Harvey, yes. Big Mike, obviously. How’s that going? Is the big guy working out for you?”

“Mike is nice,” I told her. “I like him.”

She reached for my chin, pinching it gently. “Good.”

As she set down the wig and went for a brush for my hair, I asked, “What did Fang make you? You told me he did something for you, but you never said what that was.” Since he obviously worked with metal, it had to be something made of it. Lola didn’t strike me as someone obsessed with sculptures, though.

“Once my guys realized they couldn’t, you know—” She ran a nail along her neck, mimicking a throat-slitting motion. “—I was gifted with a skeletal mask. I loved it so much. A while back, we had to sacrifice it in order to catch some asshole, so he made me another. One day I’ll have to show you. He does things with metal that make it seem like magic.”

“I know. He showed me some prototype of a Freddy Krueger gauntlet he made for his brother a long time ago. It was pretty cool.”

Lola grinned at me. “He did? Look at you, bonding with Fang. Who knew he’d have a thing for pink and blue hair and an innocent face?”

I wanted to argue with her, tell her that Fang didn’t have a thing for me, that he was just showing me some of his work, but then the part about the innocent face sunk in. Did I really have an innocent face? Was that why Tessa wanted me to play into it? Act like a traumatized girl because someone who looked like me couldn’t possibly be strong?

I was silent after that, letting Lola do whatever she wanted. After I’d changed into the outfit Tessa had picked out for me, she helped me with the wig, showed me some tips on how to make it look more natural on my scalp, along with how to fix it so it wouldn’t move on my head. She styled it for me, gave it soft, gentle waves, and then she helped me with my makeup.

She didn’t poke any more, didn’t prod. Maybe she sensed I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Whatever it was, Lola remained intent on making me look presentable to the outside world.

“Makeup is a girl’s best friend,” Lola told me. “Not because it can hide your flaws, but because it can hide your face. It can make you look older, make you look younger, like a movie star or a freckle-faced teen if you use it right. Men think makeup is only for the flaws, but we know differently, don’t we?” She grinned, but then that grin fell off her face. “Men also think the natural look is a look that requires no makeup. Men are stupid.”

That, I could agree on.

Lola gave me that natural look, and when I walked over to the bathroom across the hall to appraise her work, I had to hand it to her: she’d done a good job. With the blond wig on and some expertly-applied makeup, I looked like a normal girl, if perhaps a bit younger than my nineteen years. The natural look made me appear more naive, more innocent… which was exactly what would help my case, and my dad. No heavy eyeliner, no heavy mascara or eyeshadow. My skin had a healthy glow to it.

And the wig did look natural. Tessa would be happy, as much as I hated to admit it.

“Now,” Lola paused, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, her arms folded over her chest, “are you sure about this? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Same can be said for the wig. Say the word, and I’ll help you get out of here and out on your own.”

That made me whirl on her. “What?” I really hoped no one was down the hall, listening, because something like that would be hard to explain.

“You hate it here, in this house. I can tell. You’re trying to do what everyone wants you to do, but isn’t that what you did before?” Lola dropped her arms to her sides, stepping toward me as her voice dropped to a bare whisper, “You don’t need to play by their rules any more. I can help you get where you want to be.”

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