“Yeah, but I figured I could just go to the drugstore and get one of those boxes and do it myself. You could help me. That’s like $29.99. And that’s for the dye and wine.”
“Girl, you have got to stop being so cheap. You always say that Harry is cheap, but I think you’re even cheaper.”
“Harry is cheap.” I laughed. “He actually works. He is going to be the CEO of his family’s company. I don’t have a job. I’m not going to be taking over my dad’s company. The money I’m spending is not really mine.”
“What do you mean, it’s not really yours? Is it or is it not in your bank account?”
“It’s in a bank account I share with my dad, girl. He sees every single thing I spend my money on. He is not going to be happy to see that I have spent fifteen hundred dollars on hair and makeup.” I made a face and sighed. I’d shared a bank account with my father since I was thirteen, but now more than ever, I realized how lame that sounded. I needed to become a fully independent woman.
“Well, what’s he going to do about it?”
“I guess nothing.” Which was true. My dad had never questioned me about the money I spent. “Okay, so then what’s the plan for my new wardrobe? I’m not spending thousands of dollars on new clothes.”
“Well, that’s good then.” Gemma smiled as if she had a secret.
“That’s good? Why is that good?” I looked at her through narrowed eyes.
“It’s good because you aren’t going to be spending thousands of dollars. You’re going to be spending tens of thousands of dollars. If you want to look good and be in some designer duds that fit you well, you’re going to have to pay a pretty penny.”
“Gemma, can’t we just go to Old Navy or something?” I groaned at the thought of spending tens of thousands of dollars.
“Sarah, you did not just ask me if we could go to Old Navy to buy your new wardrobe for your new makeover.” She stopped dead in the streets. “Are you frigging kidding me right now?” Her New York accent came out even more in that moment, and I just laughed.
“I know, Gemma. I know, but ugh,” I groaned. “Fine, fine, fine. I will spend what I have to spend if you think it is going to make a difference in my life. My mother will most probably thank you as she’s been begging me to buy more clothes for years.”
“Oh, honey, you will be thanking me as well. This is going to make the biggest difference in your life that you have ever seen. Trust me on that.”
“Issss what do we have here?” Max, the makeup artist, stared at me, touching my hair, touching my face, studying me hard. “Is makeover you over, da?” He had a slight Russian accent.
“After, you mean?” I asked him with a quick smile. I was having a hard time understanding him, but he certainly looked like a makeup artist with his cool spiky jet black hair and matching black eyeliner. His skin was smooth and seemed to be glowing and I couldn’t help but stare at his shimmer of gold eye shadow. He was fierce.
“Yes. Is makeover you over, da?”
“Yeah.” I just ignored the fact that he had said over again instead of after. Maybe he didn’t speak English well. Not that I cared, as long as my makeup looked amazing.
“I zee. I zee. So, you’re not a model then, eh?” he said in his deep accent, and I looked over at Gemma, who was trying to hold in a laugh.
“No, I’m not a model.”
“Da, da, you do not have the bone structure for model.” He said it matter-of-factly, so I tried not to take his words personally.
“Max, be nice,” Gemma said. “Come on now, this is my best friend, Sarah. I told you about her.”
“I know she’s your best friend, but I’m a makeup artisteee. I have to work with ze best of ze best, comprende?”
I looked at him and wondered for a second if he was French or Russian, as his accent kept changing. I decided I was going to ask Gemma after.
“Max, come on now.” Gemma raised an eyebrow.
“I’m just being honest, tres bien, she’s pretty. She could be very pretty, a bella, I guess, after I work on her. I guess that is why you want me to work on her? I have ze magik touch.”
“I’d love for you to make me as beautiful as possible.” I grinned at him. “Maybe as beautiful as you.” I figured it didn’t hurt to butter him up.
“I said pretty. I didn’t say beautiful, eh?” He preened as he touched my cheeks. “You know, maybe I’ll make you beautiful. I am very talented, of course I can do anything. But, I cannot promise beauty, bien pas. I can promise pretty because you have ze nice eyes and ze nice lips, da. As I said before, your bone structure, it’s not that of model.” His words were all over the place and I tried not to question him about where he was from.
“Yeah. Well, I’m not a model and I have no hopes of being one.” I shrugged. His words were starting to annoy me now.
“Oui, you’re not looking like model, but you’re still very striking. I could make you very striking. Yes. Yes.” He grinned, happy with himself. “Maybe you could be model in Cosmopolitan, Vogue, no, but lesser magazines.”
“Well, that would be great. Thank you.” At least he hadn’t said Playboy.
“And she pays me one thousand dollars, you said?” He looked over at Gemma.
“No, Max. I thought we agreed to five hundred dollars.” Gemma shook her head.
“Oh five hundred, eh? Five hundred dollars is for my very good friend. Like Noami or Elle or Gigi.”
“Max.” Gemma pursed her lips.
“What? What? I need to make a business, do I not? Eezz very hard when you come from other country, da? I need to send moola to my bambinos back home.”
“Max, you can cut with the accent. I know you’re from Queens, and unless you want me to tell Valentina Opalhouse, and everyone else that you work with that you grew up in Queens, you need to do this for Sarah for five hundred dollars. I don’t know how you’re fooling these people, your accent sucks.”
“Fine, Gemma. You strike a hard bargain, don’t you?” He grinned at me as he chuckled. “You know, I have to try my best. They pay me better if they think I’m foreign. But Sarah, I think you’re gorgeous, I will have you looking like a princess.”
“Oh my gosh.” I laughed. “I was wondering where your accent was from. It was going from Russian to French. I was so confused.”
“I’m a great makeup artist. I’m not a great actor.” He grinned. “Okay. Five hundred dollars for you and you keep my secret. And you know what? I can do a really, really great job. And if you think you look even more beautiful than you thought you would, why don’t you give me a good tip?”
“Okay Max, sure.” I looked over at Gemma, who was rolling her eyes.
“These men in the fashion industry are too much,” she said.
“Yes, they are.” I laughed. “How do you know Max? How do you guys know each other?”
“Actually,” Gemma said. “There’s a guy at work that knows Max, my coworker, Greg, you met him, he does drag shows and Max makes him look all pretty. He’s the one that actually got us together.”