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“Exactly.” Starla relaxes immensely, and the smile she gives Lia is genuine. This was not a bad idea.
Thank Christ.
“I’m a makeup lover,” Lia continues as she leads Starla to the dining room table that’s covered from end to end with tubes and brushes and more color than the human eye should be able to take in. “I have my own line coming in a few months.”
“I heard,” Starla says, startling Lia. “I can’t wait to try it.”
“Oh, hold please.”
Lia rushes out of the room, running quickly for a girl in bare feet, then returns holding a big, pink shopping bag.
“You can have everything.”
“Holy shit,” Starla says, peeking into the bag. “This is incredible. Thank you so much. I’ll share on my social media.”
The room is silent as Wyatt and I just watch our girls interact. Without a word, my brother passes me a bottle of water. We’re fascinated.
Lia just blinks at Starla, then suddenly, her eyes fill with tears.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispers.
“If you don’t want me to share, I won’t,” Starla quickly says, but Lia shakes her head adamantly as she dabs at the tears.
“You have no idea how that could help me,” she says, her voice thick. “It could be a game changer.”
“I have a feeling I’ll be paying you back for whatever it is we’re about to do.”
“Oh!” Lia laughs and looks over at Wyatt with shiny blue eyes as she pulls her thoughts together. “Focus. Okay, we’re going to give you a disguise.”
Starla scowls. “I can do that on my own. I just wear a hat and some sunglasses. Sometimes, I’ll throw on a wig.”
“Too obvious,” Lia says, shaking her head. “You look like someone in disguise. The whole purpose of a disguise is to blend. To make others think you’re someone else. I’ve got some wigs here that I picked up, and I’m going to show you how to do your makeup and wear the hair so you don’t look like Starla anymore, but just the girl next door going on a date with your boyfriend.”
“He’s not—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Lia says with a flick of the wrist, and I can’t help but smile at my brother, who’s also chuckling. I bet Starla doesn’t have many people in her life that just take over.
It’s fun to watch.
“Blond or brunette?” Lia asks her. “The hair color will affect the makeup.”
Starla glances at me. “Do you have a preference?”
“Plague,” I repeat, making her laugh. “You choose.”
“Let’s go brunette. I haven’t done that in more than a decade.”
“Brunette it is,” Lia says with glee. “Oh my God, this is so fun. Now, this is how you apply the wig so it doesn’t look like a wig.”
“It’s a good thing you’re across the street,” Starla says dubiously. “I have a feeling this is going to include a steep learning curve.”
“I’ve got you, friend. Now, hold it like this . . .”“I can’t believe it,” Starla says an hour later as we sit in my vehicle, driving toward downtown Seattle. “I look so different.”
“It’s amazing,” I agree as I glance her way. The brunette wig is short, just hitting her collarbones. It has bangs, but the hair looks natural.
Lia applied the makeup with a light hand while changing Starla’s features just enough that a person might say, “you look like . . .” but not believe that she’s actually Starla.
“Lia’s one talented woman,” Starla says as she tucks the mirror away and relaxes in the seat. “Where are we going?”
“Have you been to Pike’s Place Market?”
“No, I was supposed to go there a few days ago with Mer, but we got sidetracked buying out Chanel. I’ve always wanted to see it.”
“I thought we’d roam around the market for a while, and then the Space Needle, unless you’ve done that before and you’d rather do something else.”
“Never done it,” she confirms with a firm shake of the head. “I’ve only seen the outside.”
“Well then, you’re about to be a tourist, beautiful lady.”
She smiles with excitement. “Wait. You have to call me Beth today. To go with the disguise.”
“That might be hard to remember. What if you don’t respond to it when I call for you?”
“I will. It’s my real name.” She says it like it’s no big deal, but this is news to me.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Beth Anne March. That’s my given name.”
“Huh. How did you come up with Starla?”
“I read it in a book when I was a kid and liked it.” She shrugs. “So, when I moved to LA to pursue the music, I changed it legally. On paper, I’m Starla Mason.”
“Where is your family?”
She frowns but doesn’t answer, and I can feel by the shift in the air that this isn’t a subject she wants to talk about. I’m a cop. I know when someone’s evading or dodging. I would normally let it go, but I’m falling in love with this woman, and I want to know everything there is to know about her.
