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The shallow purr of an engine filtered through the house as Scarlett’s car pulled in the driveway. I hopped off the couch and headed for the door at the same time their knock reverberated through the house.
Inhaling, I swung it open to greet Penelope, Scarlett, and Topher as I waved them inside.
“You ready for this?” Penelope asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good. Because we brought reinforcements.” Scarlett bustled inside, then nodded her head toward the open door where I peered back out. “I hope you’re ready for one heck of a makeover.”
As soon as the words left her lips, a cherry red Lamborghini pulled into my driveway, followed by a black Escalade. Though I had no idea who the SUV belonged to, there was only one person I knew who drove a Lamborghini.
“Thorne,” I breathed, awash with relief.
“There was no way he was going to miss this.” Scarlett smirked.
“What about filming?”
Scarlett shrugged. “When you’re the star and filming is ahead of schedule, I guess they give you a night off for mental health reasons.”
I watched as Thorne slid out of his car, his stride as smooth as silk, followed by an entourage of four others from the SUV. A moment later, he stood inside the foyer, a pair of dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. “Did someone call for a makeover?” He slung an arm over my shoulders. “I brought all the best with me from LA. Go big or go home, right?”
I grinned at the same time Mom chose that very moment to come inside from the backyard where she’d been playing cards and sharing a bottle of wine with Bat Man. “Barry?” She peered in at us from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?” she asked as her eyes zeroed in on Thorne’s crew, which consisted of a girl with hot pink hair and a dude with two full sleeves of tattoos.
“Yeah. They’re just helping me get ready for the ball.”
I could see her uncertainty at the unexpected guests warring with the part of her that was thrilled I was attending such a huge school event. “Okay,” she said, her voice small. “Dan and I will just be in the kitchen if you need anything.”
I nodded, then waited until she left before I faced everyone again. “Let’s do this.”
Five minutes later, Penelope and Scarlett were chatting with the wardrobe guy, which happened to be the dude with the tattoos, along with the two other women from his crew, while Topher lounged on my bed, scrolling through his phone. Thorne joined me and the hairstylist in my bathroom, where we used my desk chair for a makeshift barber’s chair in a pinch.
The hair stylist faced me in front of the mirror above my sink, her pink locks nearly neon under the bright lights as she ran her hands through my own blond mane. “You have great color.”
She hummed under her breath, staring at me a little longer. “I’m thinking some lowlights. Get rid of the bulk here”—she ruffled the back of my hair—“but keep the top long since you have a lot of body. You can add some pomade and style it in a modern pompadour, which practically screams classic romance. Sound good?”
I’d have to take her word for it. “Uh, sure.”
The moment the words left my lips, she turned and began pulling supplies out of a bag. Bowls, hair clips, scissors, blow dryer, comb, a box of foil, gloves and a bunch of other stuff I couldn’t name, then began mixing some kind of white cream from a tube into little plastic bowls with what looked like a basting brush. Minutes later, she began painstakingly painting locks of my hair and folding them into little squares of tin foil.
I frowned as she worked. I’ve never had more than a simple haircut, and by the time she finished, thirty minutes had passed and I looked like I could conduct electricity. “Now we wait,” she said with a smile just as one of the other girls entered the bathroom carrying a small container of something, along with a large black trunk, which she plopped on the sink counter in front of me with a thud.
“I’m Marissa,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled out some popsicle sticks and what appeared to be little strips of paper. Then she turned, and her eyes widened on my face. “Whoa,” she murmured.
Beside her, Pink-hair hummed in agreement.
“Can someone say caterpillars?” Marissa whispered behind her hand, and I frowned while Thorne winced, shooting me a commiserating glance before he resumed making googly eyes at Scarlett.
Whatever she meant by that didn’t sound good.I was pretty sure people didn’t want caterpillars on their face, but what did I know?
I opened my mouth to ask what she was talking about when she stepped forward and slathered something thick and sticky near my brows.
“It’s warm—owww—” I screamed as she ripped away the substance in one fell swoop.
“Watch your hair!” Pink Hair admonished me, hands hovering above my foil plates.
The skin around the offending eye burned like torch flame, and she was worried about my hair?
“What was that?” I asked, breathless from the pain.
