Page 72 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“Yeah?” He gives his cape a little shake.
A woman dressed as Fair Play, rivaling Vanessa, gestures at Adam. “We thought he’d found the original last summer and nicked it.”
A man looking like a garish Badpun pipes up, “Wouldn’t be the first time an intern walked off with borrowed property.”
“Bea, let me introduce you. This is Sean and Carla from Halifax Studios. I told them I had to make it down for the last round of escapes on our first Customer Cosplay Night, and they insisted on coming.”
“Carla, Sean, this is my sister Bea, who until very recently was an attorney at McKinney and Co.”
“Oh, a gun for hire?” Carla hands me a card. “Ring me if you ever want to get into entertainment law. We could use more help on the contract end of things.”
“Thanks.” I politely tuck her card behind the iPad I’m using. “Good luck escaping. You can follow the prom queen—”
“Penny Price,” Adam corrects.
“Right, Penny Price, Catstrike, and Mallard on in. Good luck escaping.”
“Stacey,” I yell. “One last group. Very deserving.” Our code forinfluencer types. “Begged to do Malum. I couldn’t say no.”
Stacey sighs. “Last in the queue?”
“Yup.”
She grabs a couple of water bottles from behind the reception desk. “I’ll reset the villains.”
“Is Vanessa around?”
“She will be after this last escape. Why?”
“She told me to find her to help me remove my mask.”
“Right, isopropyl myristate. We keep it in the break room. Cotton balls, circular motions, gentle pulls. Do not rip. You might bleed if you do, and I do not—”
“I know, I know. I don’t want anyone filling out OSHA paperwork either.”
Stacey’s smile is weary. “I’ll send Vanessa to come help as soon as she’s done.”
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa finds me in the ladies’ room. Her hair is now black, and she’s changed out of her blue and red cutoffs into a pair of baggy white jeans and a black crop top. “You’ve got most of it off. You want me to do the rest?”
“Please. But could you maybe leave some of my eye makeup?”
“Girl, I got you.”
Vanessa works her magic, removing the glitter from my lips and eyes but leaving the eyeliner and some of the smoky shadow. She stains my lips a dark red. “Do you have a good lip balm or something on you? Because you’re going to have to moisturize religiously after what I’ve put your lips through tonight.”
“I’m not sure.”
“You could always ask Mike.” I see the smirk on her face and am bracing for some ribbing, but she just shrugs. “He's an alpha looksmaxxer. No one takes care of their skin like that man.”
“He does have nice skin.”
She unpins my hair and pulls the ivy out. “If you say so.”
Ten minutes later, I’m making my way through a very packed pub toward Mike, who’s seated at the bar, chatting with a woman in wings and a unicorn horn. He’s still in his white shirt, but the makeup is off, and his suspenders are hanging at his sides.
“Don’t you look comfortable?” I drape an arm around Mike’s neck. “Did you miss me?”
Mike stares at me like I’m insane before he pulls me into his arms. “Are you kidding? Let me show you.”
