34. Vanessa
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
VANESSA
Monday rolls around faster than I like. Scalpel cleared me for most activities, including returning to in-person classes and clinic hours.
Originally, the week away from classes stressed me, but I can’t deny it has helped speed along my healing significantly.
My head no longer feels like a rave is bouncing off the walls of my brain, and my unicorn horn is gone—only a nasty-colored bruise remains.
There’s no way I can see my patients at the clinic looking like this. It could trigger some of them, especially any of my patients with a history of abuse.
My makeup supply is minimal and unable to help me cover my contusion. Thank goodness I know another woman in the club who can help. A quick phone call to Marlene has her coming to my aid.
Thirty minutes later, Marlene arrives at Cupid’s apartment with a gorgeous woman I’ve only seen in passing in the restaurant a few times.
She’s a hard one to forget with her fair skin looking like porcelain and silky black hair, so dark it shines blue.
Crypt is often by her side most mornings, giving his brothers stink-eye when they talk to her.
“This is Romy. She has way more makeup expertise than I do.”
Romy hauls a large traveling case on wheels. She stops in front of me, holding out her hand with a cheerful smile. “I’ve seen you in the bar downstairs, but we haven’t formally been introduced. It’s nice to meet you. Let’s get that thing covered.”
Seated on a barstool, I ogle the wide variety of makeup supplies Romy has spread out along the kitchen island. The brand names listed on the sides of the cosmetology compacts are ones I’ve never heard of before, such as Dodge Chemical Company and Derma-Pro.
Huh? These must be some fancy-dancy makeup brands. Maybe it’s stage cosmetics? Romy has the striking looks that would definitely be film-worthy.
Making small talk, Romy finds a color palette that works for my skin tone and gets to work. The concealer she uses feels different from any other cover-up I’ve used before, waxier.
“You’ve got beautiful skin, almost poreless,” she compliments. “It will make blending easy.”
“Oh, thank you. Where did you go to cosmetology school?”
“I got my Mortuary Science degree from Arapahoe Community College in Littleton, Colorado.”
I beg your finest pardon? Did she say Mortuary Science?
My eyes land on the funky makeup again, making my insides curdle. “Mortuary Science as in you’re a mortician?”
“Mm-hm,” she says, oblivious to my growing horror brewing within me as she smears more odd concealer across my forehead. “I own the funeral home three blocks down the street. It’s the big historical Victorian on the corner.”
“Right. Um, and is what you’re using on me the same stuff you use on dead people?”
Marlene tilts her head with a furrowed brow, looking between the cosmetics and Romy.
Romy pauses her work to look down at me with thin lips, like she finally senses my unease and guesses I will not like her answer. “Yes.”
A full-body shudder rolls through me.
I’m wearing dead people’s makeup. Ew, ew, ew.
Marlene rears back, sickened. “What the hell, Romy?! I asked you to come do makeup, not dress a corpse.”
“You asked me to drop everything to come do an emergency cover-up. That’s what I’m doing. Do you think I have a plethora of cosmetics for the living on hand? I’m a mortician, Marlene, not a cosmetologist.”
“I just assumed you’d stop by the store and grab some makeup before arriving.”
“You assumed wrong!”
While the two of them argue back and forth, I try to control my breathing before I trigger a panic attack. The heebie-jeebies are in full force.
“At least I grabbed the new shipment of cosmetics that arrived yesterday. It’s not like I’m using used makeup on her.”
Oh, thank fuck! I’m not covered in dead people cooties. Relieved, I sink against the counter.
There’s no way I can remove the layers of waxy residue from my skin and find something else to cover the bruise before I need to head back to Fort Collins for class.
Putting on my big-girl panties, I straighten in my seat. “Well, you’ve already started. You might as well finish.”
Romy is putting on the final touches—no pun intended—when Crypt and Cookie arrive.
Cookie is his normal, chill self, waving a hello before taking the barstool next to me.
Crypt, on the other hand, saddles up beside Romy, penetrating her personal bubble like he has no clue how invasive he’s behaving.
He stares at her as if he were a man possessed.
To her credit, Romy doesn’t flinch under his intense gaze. She keeps on working as if she’s used to his odd behavior. “Hi, Crypt.”
He doesn’t say hello back. Instead, he takes a silky lock of her long hair in his hand, rolling it between his fingers, almost like he can’t help himself from touching her.
Geez. Could he be any more obvious? He’s infatuated with Romy.
Yes, Crypt displays signs of being on the spectrum. However, he still needs to recognize inappropriate behavior when it happens, or he’ll never learn healthy boundaries.
When Romy is distracted, I nudge Crypt with my foot to get his attention. He shoots me an irritated glare, upset with me bothering him from his examination of his infatuation. I discreetly eye his hand holding Romy’s hair before looking back at him and mouthing, let go.
Crypt pouts, dropping her hair as if it pains him to do so. He watches me, waiting for more cues.
Cookie observes our exchange with an amused smirk.
When Romy is putting her supplies away in her traveling case, I motion with my hand for the enforcer to step back.
He puckers his lips in disappointment, but moves away to give Romy room to move around more freely. Crypt looks at me again, clueless.
I mouth, Talk to her.
He nods his understanding before addressing the mortician. “You don’t smell like embalming fluid this morning. You must not have worked on any dead people yet.”
I’d palm my forehead if I wasn’t covered in mortuary makeup. Instead, I hang my head. Cookie chuckles under his breath at my defeat.
“Thanks, Crypt,” Romy says brightly, giving him a kind smile.
She seems not to mind his quirky crassness, reacting way nicer than most people would.
“You’re right. I won’t be working on anyone until this afternoon.
I’ve got a date with the late Mister Hammerstein.
Misses Hammerstein told me I need to make him look less of a crotchety old man than he did when he was alive. ”
A small smile curls at the corners of Crypt’s lips, pleased with their interaction. He moves toward her again, handing her supplies off the counter to help her pack faster.
At least he’s not totally lost. Crypt is trying to build a connection with her. He just needs a little polishing and a crash course in etiquette.
Romy hands me a mirror. “What do you think?”
Whoa. Whatever is in that death paint sure did a stellar job of covering my injury. No one will tell what is being concealed.
“It looks great, Romy. Thank you.”
“Tonight, I’ll bring some living people foundation instead. What you’re wearing won’t allow your skin to breathe, but it will do for today. Just don’t do a ton of facial expressions. This stuff doesn’t flex well.”
“Resting bitch face for the rest of the day? Got it.”
The mortician pulls her cell out of her purse, typing away on it. “What’s your number? If you run into any trouble with the makeup at school, call me and I’ll walk you through how to touch it up.”
“Good idea,” I say before giving her my number. She sends me a text, and I create a new contact for Romy the Mortician. Never thought I’d have an undertaker on speed dial, but here I am.
“Are you ready to go to class?” Cookie asks, getting off the barstool and heading toward the entrance, like my answer can only be yes.
“Wait. You’re coming with me?”
He gives me a duh look. “Did you think you’d go by yourself? Cupid would never allow it, not with those two fuckers still on the loose. Until they’re caught, you’re stuck with me and Crypt as your bodyguards.”
Great. A sarcastic jackass and a guy with no concept of personal space tagging along as my muscle going forward is going to make me stick out like a sore thumb.
That they’re mean-looking bikers will only compound it.
Too bad Cupid has club business to handle this morning.
He’s intense enough, but these two following me around could scare someone into thinking I’m being followed.
“Can you two try not to scare the general population when you’re escorting me today? We don’t need anyone calling the cops out of concern for my well-being.”
“I will give them my most friendly smile,” Cookie says cynically. “No such luck with Crypt. He only wears a mean mug.”
“It’s true,” Crypt says, nodding and sporting the said mug.
“You’re not coming into the clinic with me,” I say, pointing a finger between the bikers. “Class is fine, but you’ll stay outside the clinic until I’m done. I can’t have you terrorizing my patients.”
Cookie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Cupid already informed us not to interfere with your internship. Will you get your shit? We need to hit the road before the traffic gets heavy.”
“You’re so bossy,” I mutter, grabbing my backpack from the couch and stomping toward the front door.
Cookie blocks the exit, folding his arms across his expansive chest and shaking his head at me. “Forgetting something?”
I baulk. “Are you shitting me?!”
“No, I’m not.”
“There’s no reason for it. I will not be around any bikers, Cookie.”
“We’re walking into territory where whoever jumped you could be lurking.
Best to show them you’re under the club’s protection.
” He points at his prospect patch on his leather vest. “I’m on my probationary period.
I will not let you or anyone else stop me from getting initiated into this club over making some stupid mistake. Go get your cut.”
Growling under my breath, I retrieve my property vest from the bedroom and yank it on. I throw my arms out to my sides to show him I’m wearing it. “There. You happy?”
“Fuck no.” Cookie shakes his head. “I’m going to school, no thanks to you. School sucks ass.”
Rolling my eyes, I push past him. “You’re such a child.”
“Forever young,” he singsongs before whistling to get Crypt’s attention. “Crypt Man! Lets roll.”
Disappointment twists Crypt’s features. He looks at Romy a moment longer before leaving her side to follow us.
He’s got it bad for Romy. I’ll make it my mission to help Crypt improve his social skills, giving him a shot at winning over the local mortician.