Page 11 of Desperate Measures


  Aimee started walking up the stairs. “I can do it. I was just about to when you got here. You can make yourself at home, it will only take me a minute. There are some bar stools in the kitchen.”

  Kiki followed Aimee up and went right into the bathroom behind her. “I’m doing your makeup. Don’t worry, I’m an expert. Show me your stuff so I can see what I have to work with.”

  Kiki had a very determined but gentle look on her face, so Aimee capitulated. She was too woozy and wienie-feeling to fight her off anyway. She’d only once had a person do her makeup before, in the mall, and they’d done a horrible job. At this point, though, Aimee couldn’t care less. Some of the excitement of going out had dissipated in the wake of Jack’s cruelty.

  Aimee pulled open the top drawer of the bathroom vanity where she kept all of her supplies.

  Kiki looked inside, taking in the two old and very used-looking compacts that had been purchased at the grocery store and a mascara that was way past its prime. “Is this it?”

  “Yep. That’s all she wrote.”

  “Where are your brushes?”

  “What? Like hair brushes?”

  “No, goof, makeup brushes.”

  “I don’t have any. I just use what comes in the compact.”

  “Those crappy sponges on plastic sticks? Good lord, girl, you need a serious lesson in Makeup 101. I’m surprised you never watched the videos on YouTube.”

  Aimee smiled. “Actually, I have. I just never did anything after I watched them.”

  Kiki pulled her bag up off the floor and set it on the counter. “Well, lucky for you, I came prepared.” She started pulling out pots and brushes and tubes and setting them down next to the sink, one by one.

  “Wow,” said Aimee, picking up an eye shadow pot, “these are pretty. Where did you get all of them?”

  “Here and there. I don’t have a favorite brand per se. I just buy what appeals to me. I do prefer Chanel liners though. I think they have the best formulation there.”

  “Oh, yeah. Me too,” said Aimee, smirking.

  “Watch it, wise ass. I have the power now.” She held up a brush from her supply. “You might want to be nice to me for the next fifteen minutes.”

  Aimee frowned, thinking how much Kiki’s demand sounded like one of her ex-husband’s, minus the angry threat underneath.

  “What? What’d I say?”

  “You sound like Jack,” she said softly.

  Kiki grabbed Aimee’s chin, forcing her to lift her face. “I’m not that asshole. I’m your friend. I was just giving you the kick in the pants I think you need. You tell me if I’m being too mean, and I’ll stop.” She dropped her hand and pulled her purse off the counter, letting it fall back to the floor. “I need a chair for you.”

  Aimee gestured toward the toilet.

  Kiki shrugged. “If you insist.”

  Aimee dropped down and faced her friend.

  Kiki frowned. “No. Too low. Come sit on the counter.”

  Aimee got up and did as she was told, balancing her butt on the small piece of counter that wasn’t a sink and wasn’t covered in makeup. Within minutes she felt the cool glide of foundation on her skin, being applied with a wide brush. It was so relaxing she closed her eyes. “This feels good,” she said.

  “It’s called being pampered. Every woman should have it done at least once a week, in my book.”

  “Pampering costs money I don’t have.”

  “Well, when times were tough or when I was saving money, I still did it – I just did it to myself. You can give yourself a manicure, take a bubble bath, massage your own feet. Whatever. The point is to be good to yourself. You don’t always have to wait for someone else to do it for you.”

  “Wise words, I think,” said Aimee. “I wish I had known you before I met Jack.”

  “Pfff. If you had known me before him, I don’t think I would have let you marry him. I haven’t met him yet, but I can see he’s a dick.”

  Aimee smiled. “You’re a very intuitive person, Kiki. He is a dick.” She giggled, enjoying talking mean about him. “A big dick with a small dick.”

  Kiki snorted. “That’s the spirit. But save it. Elizabeth is going to want to hear it, and you’re going to mess up my work moving around like that.”

  “Oh. Okay,” said Aimee, taking a serious tone. She felt something being put into her hands. “Take my phone and text Elizabeth. Tell her we’ll be a little late.”

  “How late?”

  “Ten minutes, max.”

  “Do you plan on teleporting us over there?” She opened her eyes, looking at Kiki’s devilish expression.

  “No. I plan on showing you what’s under my baby’s hood.”

  Aimee’s eyes opened wide but she didn’t say anything. “What’s her number?”

  “Just look it up under Elizabeth. Hit that down button and you’ll find it.”

  Aimee scrolled while reading out loud, “Aimee, Anastasia, Apple, Babiecakes, Beautyqueen, Candygirl, Ditzy, ... you have some interesting sounding friends ... ”

  “Nicknames. Dancers. Keep going.”

  “Ah, here it is. Elizabeth.”

  “Hit that button on the right and select SMS and then start typing.”

  Aimee did as she was told. An answering beep came with a return message. “She says, See you then.”

  “Good.” Kiki held her hand out for her phone and Aimee put it in Kiki’s palm. Back into the bag it went with a thud. Kiki grabbed a brush from the counter and said, “Close your eyes.”

  Aimee followed her instructions and soon felt a feather or something just as soft dusting across her eyelids. “What are you doing now?”

  “Eyeshadow.”

  “What color?”

  “Just wait and see.”

  Aimee could tell from the way Kiki said it that she was concentrating on something. “Do you always carry a full makeup kit around in your bag?”

  “Not always. But often.”

  “Why did you tonight?” Aimee could feel a large soft brush moving across her cheeks now. Must be the blush.

  “Because I was hoping I would catch someone at a weak moment who would let me do a makeover on them.”

  Aimee smiled. “Is that your hobby? Turning sad, sorry, sacks into cover girls?”

  “You could say that,” said Kiki with a smile in her voice. “Okay, now this is only going to hurt a little. I need you to sit still.”

  Aimee opened her eyes. “What’s going to hurt?”

  Kiki held up some tweezers. “You have some strays.”

  “Oh.” She eyed the metal implement a couple more seconds and then noticed Kiki’s determined look. She rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine. Just leave me some.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to go full-out on you, even though in my opinion it wouldn’t hurt. We just need to thin the jungle a little bit.”

  “Hey!” said Aimee in mock offense ... and then, “Ouch! Wow, that one hurt. Oh! Ow, that one too!”

  Kiki laughed. “Stop faking. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

  Aimee didn’t say anything She just sat there, willing herself not to cry the now happy tears that threatened to appear. She’d never had a big sister, but this is how she pictured she would be – someone there to be in your corner, someone who did makeovers on you after you cried and made you feel like a silly kid pointing out the amateur way you’d done it before ... someone to show you the way.

  “Can I say something to you without sounding weird?” asked Aimee. She was feeling so close to Kiki, even though they’d just met, she wanted to share what she was thinking. Something about Kiki just made her drop her guard and feel totally comfortable with being herself. She’d never had a friend like that before, ever.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on what it is.”

  “Well, I’ll take a chance. I just wanted to say that I’m really glad you came over. You’re like ... the big sister I never had.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re older th
an me.”

  “You know what I mean. And I think you’re older.”

  “Yes. I know. And if it makes you feel less insecure, I always wanted to have a little sister. If she had been like you, that would have been cool with me.”

  Aimee didn’t hesitate – she spontaneously hugged Kiki and then broke away when Kiki protested.

  “Hey! Watch it, lady! We’re at a very critical stage here. Save the hugging for the end.”

  “Okay, sorry,” said Aimee, not sounding apologetic at all. She could tell from Kiki’s tone that she wasn’t mad about the show of affection.

  “Just one more minute and I’ll be done. Look up.”

  Aimee looked up at the ceiling. “I heard sharing mascara is bad for your eyes. Like you can get a disease or something.”

  “That’s why I swipe these from the Mac store in the mall,” explained Kiki, holding up and waving a clear, disposable wand in front of Aimee’s eye.

  “Wow. That’s dedication to your craft.”

  “Trust me … I spend enough money in that store that they practically throw them at me. Last time I was there they gave me an entire bag from their supplies. It had like five hundred of ‘em in it.”

  “Cool. No one’s ever done that for me ... given me free makeup stuff.”

  “They don’t give away disposable wands in the grocery store where I know you buy your makeup.”

  “Hey!”

  Kiki shrugged. “I calls it likes I sees it.” She stepped back and looked at Aimee, surveying her work. “Okay, last part. Lips.” She searched the bathroom counter’s offerings for the perfect shade.

  “You’re not going to use lip liner on me, are you?”

  “No, absolutely not. That’s not your style.”

  “Hmph,” said Aimee thoughtfully, “I didn’t even know I had a style.”

  “You do now,” said Kiki, picking up a tube of gloss.

  “Let me see,” said Aimee anxiously, making as if she were going to turn around to look in the mirror.

  “No!” shouted Kiki, putting her finger out to stop Aimee’s cheek from going any farther to the right. “Not until I finish. Now open.” She opened her own mouth, showing Aimee what she wanted her to do.

  Aimee parted her lips and kept trying to talk. “Uts at?”

  “Gloss. The non-tacky kind. Only place I’ve ever been able to find it is Sephora. But it’s cheap, so even you could get some and not have a stroke over it.”

  Aimee rolled her eyes. “I ike oo end oney en I ah it.”

  “Well, we just need to figure out how you can have some money again so you can start pampering yourself a little more.” She finished what she was doing. “Rub them together a little ... not too much!”

  Aimee rubbed, just enough to spread the color evenly.

  Kiki took the small brush she’d been using to apply the gloss, and smoothed it across Aimee’s lips once more. When she was finished, Kiki backed up and gestured toward the mirror, saying, “Done! Behold my masterpiece.”

  Aimee hopped off the counter and turned to look, adjusting her dress as she stared at herself. She couldn’t believe the difference a little bit of expertly applied makeup had made. “I can’t even really see it.” She leaned in closer to the mirror. “I notice a big difference in how I look, but I can’t really see much makeup.” Her voice held a note of wonder. “I’m ... pretty.”

  “That’s the key. Do more with less. And yes, I am a genius. But I can only do so much. You have a naturally pretty face. I just highlighted your existing assets.”

  Aimee grabbed Kiki’s arm without breaking her stare at the reflection. “You have to show me how to do this.”

  “No prob. Ready to go?” She started throwing her stuff into her purse with abandon.

  Aimee hugged her fast around the waist and then went out ahead of her, going downstairs. “I just have to grab my shoes in the kitchen. Meet you at the front door!”

  She was buckling the straps on the heels when Kiki came in and set her purse down on the counter. She looked around, taking in the high-end appliances and the perfect details on all the woodwork and granite.

  Jack had insisted on the best when the house was built. He always did when it came to his own things or making an impression on people, and he liked to throw cocktail parties.

  “So, this is where the magic happens, eh?” asked Kiki.

  “What magic?”

  “The baking? That magic spell you cast over all of us last week with those cakes? I still dream about them.”

  Aimee smiled, standing. “You’re crazy.”

  “No, I’m not.” Kiki came around to look at Aimee’s computer.

  It was an old model, but Aimee didn’t care. At least it worked.

  “Looking for apartments?” Kiki asked.

  “Looking and failing to find apartments is more like it.”

  “Aren’t there any vacancies?”

  “Sure, there are plenty of those. But without a job, no one will rent one to me. I must have called fifty places today. I even offered to pay several months’ rent up front. Still no deal. I’m going to have to go on welfare or something and get section-whatever-it-is housing.”

  “No. That is unacceptable.”

  “Tell me about it. If my parents could only see me now. They’d be so proud ... not.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They died. A few years ago.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Mine did too.”

  “Bummer. Were you close?”

  “Nope. Not at all. I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen.”

  Aimee frowned. “That’s awful, Kiki. Did they die when you were really young?”

  Kiki shrugged. “No. They died three years ago, one year apart. They were selfish. Weak. You know the sad story. But I turned out okay.”

  Aimee looked at Kiki, knowing that this girl had turned out more than okay. “You’re a super person, Kiki. Smart and funny and generous. I’m sure if they could see you now, they’d be proud and feel bad that they didn’t take better care of you when they were alive.”

  Kiki shrugged, saying nothing in response.

  “Yep,” said Aimee cheerily, now back in the mood to hang out with girlfriends. “Oh, wait a sec. I gotta get something.” She went over to a cabinet and reached inside, pulling out a cookbook. It was thick and heavy. Aimee felt Kiki watching her, but she didn’t care. She almost wanted her to see, so she could share the secret with someone else. She opened up the book to reveal the hollowed out interior. Inside was the manila envelope with the money in one large stack inside.

  Kiki smiled. “I’ve seen that in movies but never in real life before. I hide my cash in a laundry detergent box.”

  “I’ll bet that makes it smell good.”

  “It does,” said Kiki grinning.

  “Well, I had to think of the one place that neither Jack nor Tiffany would look and the last thing either one of them would take, and this was it.”

  “Who’s Tiffany?”

  “She’s the practically prepubescent twit that works for my ex and who also now happens to be engaged to him and carrying his baby.”

  “What the hell?”

  Aimee looked up at her, an embarrassed expression on her face. “Awful, right?”

  “He’s worse than a dick. He’s a man whore.”

  Aimee laughed. “Yes. That and more.”

  “You mean to tell me that they come into your house and take your stuff?” Kiki sounded incredulous.

  “Oh, this isn’t my house,” said Aimee bitterly. “Jack is fond of telling me every time he comes over that it’s his house. He’s only letting me stay here out of the kindness of his heart.”

  “And they take your stuff? Him and his girlfriend?”

  “Yes, and they take my stuff. But neither of them cook, so they leave the kitchen alone.”

  “You realize what has to happen now, right?” asked Kiki, a serious expression on her face.

  “Uh, no. Other than going
out for drinks, you mean?”

  “Yeah. I mean, what needs to happen in your life right now.”

  “Yes. I do, actually. I need to get a job. I need to get an apartment. And I need to get a life ... and not necessarily in that order.”

  “Okay, well I can help with two out of the three.” Kiki leaned on the counter, giving Aimee a penetrating stare. “How would you feel about moving in with me? Temporarily, I mean.”

  Aimee was shocked into silence. And paralysis. She just stood there, her mouth partway open.

  Kiki bent down a little, peering into her face. “Hello? Anyone home?”

  Aimee shook her head a little to clear the fog. “What? Oh, sorry. I thought. Never mind.”

  “You heard me, Aimee, don’t play games. Say yes. You need a place to stay, and I have an extra room. Plus, you planned on paying rent anyway – you can just pay it to me.”

  “Seriously?” Aimee didn’t want to hope too hard that this could be true. She had zero misgivings about moving in with Kiki, regardless of the fact that it would make her ex completely insane. Maybe that was part of the attraction, actually.

  “Seriously. Let’s do this. We can put your stuff in the car right now.”

  Aimee bit her lip, not usually one for making spontaneous decisions.

  “It’s in a gated community and no one can get in without permission from a resident. And I have a fully alarmed place that’s wired into the police department.”

  “Where do I sign?” asked Aimee, a grin dawning across her face. She’d had enough of the surprise visits from Jack to last a lifetime. The idea that she could be safe from his prying eyes and demands made her nearly giddy with pleasure.

  “Okay, let’s hurry. I don’t want to be too late to O’Malleys,” said Kiki.

  Aimee walked with her friend to the front hall.

  “This stuff?” Kiki asked, pointing to the boxes.

  “Yes. That’s it.”

  “What about your cookbook?”

  “Oh, shit ... I mean shoot. Okay, be right back.” Aimee took off in a rush to the kitchen. She heard Kiki yelling from the front door.

  “Grab your cooking stuff! I don’t have any!”

  “Oh man, oh man, oh man,” muttered Aimee, grabbing a box from the corner of the room where she had packing central set up. This was going to be box number eleven.