Draw Me In (14 page)

“
The thing is, Jules, you
’
re
incredibly
creative when it comes to the arts. It
’
s when it comes to the basic
necessities of life that you fail miserably.
”

“
True.
”
Thumbing my chin, I nodded in
agreement, because he was absolutely right. This was a total fail.
“
But I think they have a word for
that. It
’
s
called genius.
”

“
Okay, genius. How about I help you
look human again, and then we go take those headshots?
”

That
’
s what started this whole makeup
mishap. Apparently not only was Ian supposed to take images of Leo for the
upcoming magazine spread, but now I had somehow worked my way into the story. I
wasn
’
t
certain if this was Ian
’
s
or Leo
’
s
idea, but it didn
’
t
matter much because I was just relieved that they were veering away from the
whole bachelor looking for love spin. If they wanted to move toward documenting
their marketing strategy of rebranding, then so be it, even if that was
slightly boring and probably wouldn
’
t
sell more than a handful of issues to people that were obligated to buy them
like my parents and Ian and Joshua if I could successfully sucker him into it.

“
Do you think we can do the headshots
another day? I
’
m
not really sure I can scrub this off without leaving a mark.
”
Bracketing my hands over the counter
’
s ledge, I leaned toward the mirror
to examine the damage.

There
was no way this was all coming off. It seriously looked like I
’
d taken permanent marker to my face,
closed my eyes, and scribbled to my heart
’
s
content like a three-year old finger painting. I
’
d be lucky if some of this wore off
by next week. My ineptitude was tattooed all over my face in bright, glittery
embarrassment.

“
You
’
re right. We should hold off. Plus, I
kinda want to spend some time with Joshua before I leave for three weeks. He
wasn
’
t
so thrilled when I broke the news.
”

“
I bet.
”

The
whole time Ian had been watching me, his face was strained so much he looked
like he was either extremely constipated or had an ingrown toenail. Maybe both.
I didn
’
t
like that looking at my face appeared to be a painful experience. He should go
see Joshua. I put him through too much misery for one night already. He needed
a break and I needed some solitude as I attempted to pressure-wash this
disaster off.

After
twenty minutes, I gave up, because I was a quitter like that.

Apparently
makeup removal was a full contact sport, and I
’
d developed a terrible case of tennis
elbow, as well as what looked like a black eye due to all of the vigorous
scrubbing. I had yet to determine if what resembled bruising was actually that,
or if I
’
d
somehow failed at applying normal makeup, but had alternately discovered the
hidden talent of making myself look like a post-apocalyptic zombie. I could
probably make big bucks for this type of work on a Hollywood movie set. It
really was quite convincing.

As
I contemplated relocating to Los Angeles to begin a new career in the field of
horror-film makeup, someone knocked at the door. Two respectable thunks
—
not too loud and
eager, not too quick to go unnoticed.

But
I wanted to ignore it, because it was more than likely Ian. That guy forgot his
keys more than anyone I knew. It was as though he actually repelled them
because once I
’
d
found them in the garbage disposal of our sink (scared the living daylights out
of me when it went all
Exorcist
as I
flicked the switch), and on another occasion they were buried in his cat
’
s litter box under a week
’
s worth of kitty crap.

A
few weekends ago, I actually took the time to sew little spare-key pockets onto
the inside of each pair of his jeans, figuring he wouldn
’
t leave the house without his pants.
But his recent affinity for nude modeling might thwart those attempts to help
him keep track. He was officially on his own.

Two
more knocks at the front door.

I
made my way through the apartment, flung open the door and said,
“
Did you check in your pants?
”
all too soon.

Well,
I wasn
’
t
sure if there was ever a good time to say that. But as a general rule of thumb,
you should probably be 100% sure who it was that you were asking about the
contents of their pants before you asked it.

“
Is there something missing in my
pants?
”
Leo still had his hand raised and balled up in a fist as though readying for
another knock.
“
Because
I
’
m pretty sure everything is there.
”

“
Hi Leo.
”

“
What happened to your face, Julie?
”
Realizing his hand was still
suspended in the air fist-bump-style, he dropped it to his side and searched
out my face with a gaze so intense it almost hurt to look at. An eclipse across
his features.
“
Are
you okay?
”

“
I, uh. I was mugged on the way home.
”

“
Oh my God!
”
He grabbed me by the arms, two warm
hands wrapping around the small curve of my biceps.
“
Are you serious?
”

Damn.
“
No. That
’
s a lie.
”

His
hands fell.
“
Why
would you lie about that?
”

“
Because apparently you make me lie in
an attempt to save face. But this
—
,
”
I waved a palm across my blush
stained cheeks,
“—
can
’
t actually be saved.
”

“
I don
’
t like that I bring out the liar in
you.
”
He was serious in his tone and expression and it made my gut roll with regret.
“
There are lots of things I want to
bring out in you, but lying isn
’
t
one of them.
”

We
were still in the doorway, which was awkward, but I figured it would be more
awkward to invite him in since he was my boss and since I currently looked like
a clown/drag queen/zombie.

“
Okay. I take that back because it
’
s totally wrong of me to say you make
me lie. If I
’
m
gonna be a liar, I
’
m
gonna own it. I lie because I want to impress you.
”

“
And how would I be impressed by
thinking you were mugged?
”
Leo took one step forward, the tip of his leather shoe crossing the threshold
of my apartment so slowly it was as through he was testing for a trip wire or
waiting for an alarm to go off. Nothing happened.

“
Would you be impressed to hear that I
look like this because I suck at applying makeup and I was doing a test run for
my headshots for your magazine article and I wanted to look hot?
”

“
Yes.
”
He flashed that pearly white smile
that made me want to be a dentist just so I could have the honor of scraping
plaque off of those perfect teeth.
“
I
would.
”

“
Well then. There you have it.
”

Looking
around me, Leo said,
“
Can
I come in?
”

“
Sure,
”
I conceded, an approximation of a
welcome.

He
pulled something out of his back pocket, and then he stretched out his hand
toward me. There was an envelope with the flap still open held between his
fingertips.
“
Your
boarding pass for our flight tomorrow.
”

I
took it from him and set it down on the kitchen bar.
“
You know we can print these at the
airport, right?
”

“
Yes. I know.
”

We
stood there, about two feet apart, in the small space between my kitchen and
family room. I balanced one hand on the counter and pressed into it slightly
because I found that I looked better when I sort of leaned on things rather
than stood up completely straight. Don
’
t
ask me why I knew that, it was just something I
’
d discovered over the years in my
anatomical drawing classes. I was all about the body and its form and I thought
bodies looked best when they were bent a little at the joints and gave the
illusion of movement. Maybe I would look
really
good if I sort of laid down on the ground right now and stretched my legs out
as far as they could go and bent my arms behind my head like I was a sculpture
in the Uffizi Gallery.

Or
maybe I
’
d
look like an idiot.

I
’
d definitely look like an idiot.
Scrap that idea.

“
Well, thank you. For the boarding
pass.
”

We
were still staring and I was still sort of leaning and had my hand popped onto
my hip for a little added effect.

“
Are you posing?
”

“
What?
”
My palm instantly coated with so
much sweat it slipped off the counter and my shoulder slammed into the sharp
edge as I faltered, completely rocked and lost all sense of balance. And
dignity. I lost that too.
“
No.
I
’
m not posing. That would be weird.
”

“
It looked a little like you were
posing.
”
Did it also look a little like I
’
d
just crapped my pants? Because I was pretty sure that also happened.

Leo
’
s head tilted at an angle in such a
way that he was looking at me just out of the corners of his eyes. Two blue,
enticing slits that challenged me to own up to the complete moron I was.

“
Maybe I was posing a little.
”

How
that could manufacture a smile and not a look of disgust, I had no idea. But
there it was, playfully carved onto his face and it looked so good I wanted to
lick it, just to see if it tasted as good as it looked.
“
Okay.
”

“
Okay?
”

“
Yeah, you were posing. Okay,
”
he reiterated.

Holy
Toledo, did he just accept that I was standing here in front of him in my
apartment, striking a 1990 Madonna Vogue-style pose like it was totally normal?
How much crazy could this guy handle? It actually made me question his taste in
women, because if he at all was attracted to me like I thought he might be, he
definitely preferred his women just south of normal. And I was currently
residing in Antarctica.

“
Maybe it
’
s normal for you to pose and do weird
things with your body when you
’
re
in uncomfortable situations. I mean, I am your boss and I just showed up at
your house completely unannounced.
”

“
Oh, but I
’
m not uncomfortable. I
’
m really quite relaxed.
”
And apparently I
’
m a chronic liar, but we
’
ve already covered that. My nose just
grew three inches.
“
And
I don
’
t
normally pose.
”
Lie again.
“
Just
a new yoga move I was trying out.
”
Lies, all lies.