Makeup Monday Quotes

That aunt of mine; boy, she used to wear make-up all week long so terrible thick that - well, she started about Wednesday layering it on, and she never washed, and every day she slapped down a new layer. Until Sunday. Then on Sunday she kind of peeled it off to go to church. *** Boy, she was a case; I used to hope she'd skip a Sunday - sleep through to Monday or something - because I knew two weeks' worth of make-up and she'd set up like a statue.

But then a revelation came crashing down on me. The harshness of it was so fierce I was the one trembling instead of Melanie. My memory flashed back to her Monday night in the parking lot with her messed up hair and smeared makeup. They weren’t willingly hitting it in his office. He hadn’t turned me away that night because he had been with someone. Oh, no, it was much worse than that. I stared at her in disbelief. He had screwed her—the panties were proof of that. But it wasn’t by her consent…he had truly raped her. I gasped. “Oh my God!” My mind shattered with the thoughts of what he had done. To his star…to his son’s girlfriend. It was too much. I slammed back against the sink and shook my head. “He raped you, didn’t he?” Her eyes widened in horror. “NO!” she screamed.

After Sophie had scraped the last of the makeup off her face, she was aware of the first sharp pangs of something that felt like homesickness. They'd already been told that the BBC wanted another series, but that was months away; and anyway, the last episode of the first series made her realize that one day there would be a last episode, and she didn't know whether she'd be able to bear it. And it didn't help, telling herself that when it was time for the last episode, she'd have had enough, because she couldn't bear that either. She wanted to stay like this forever. She changed her wish quickly: not like this, not exactly... She wanted it to be the Monday just gone, with a whole week of rehearsals to look forward to, and then a recording. That's where she would like to stop. She was already afraid that she'd never be happier than now-then-and it was already over.

With sun rays reaching through the clouds and warming her face, she couldn't have looked more peaceful. It was the first time he'd seen her hair worn down over her shoulder, by daylight anyhow. In ladies' trousers and a casual shirt beneath her coat, with barely a touch of makeup, she was a natural looker.

Rain had matted her hair and washed away her makeup, and she was still a goddamn knockout.

But it’s Saturday,” I said. “I mean, don’t people take the day off?” Jackie shook her head with a smile that said I had a lot to learn. “We start shooting Monday morning, Dexter,” she said. “The wardrobe and makeup people have tons of last-minute things to do, and they need us there to do them.” “Oh,” I said, and with an effort I put on my bodyguard hat. “Will the Town Car be here to take us over?” She nodded and sat down, reaching for her cup. “It’ll be in front in ten minutes,” she said. She drained the cup, put it on the table, and said, “I better get ready.” But before she could stand up, her cell phone chimed. She shook her head and said, “It never ends.” But when she picked it up and looked at the screen, she said, “Oh,” with surprise. “It’s your sister.” She touched the screen and held the phone up to her ear.

After a brief battle with the urge to bury my head under the duvet and pretend pasties had never been invented, I got up only a few minutes late on Monday. Blaming my grouchy mood on the hours I’d spent churning over the revelations inside Mum’s box instead of sleeping, I did my best to plough on as usual. Gregory firmly plonked a large envelope on the counter when he came for his breakfast. ‘I’m presuming there’s something wrong with your emails, because I can’t think of any other reason why you’ve still not signed the lease. Here’s a paper copy. Read it when you have your soup and call me if you’ve any questions.’ ‘Mum may have known this inside out, but I’m in charge now. A responsible business owner would take the time to study it properly,’ I said. ‘If you’ve not had time to read a twenty-page document in two months, then you need to seriously question your life choices,’ Gregory said, laughing at his own joke. ‘A responsible business owner would make the time and get it done.’ Blessing came over to the kiosk before her shift started at two o’clock, leaning up against the hatch to take a good look at me once I’d filled her travel mug with coffee and handed her a pasty. ‘Mascara and dusky-rose lipstick. Subtle, yet effective. I bet no one’s said you look crap today.’ I swapped my Parsley’s Pasties smile for a real one. ‘Thanks for coming over last night.’ ‘Getting to nosey about the mysterious Brown house while showing off my make-up prowess? The pleasure was all mine. Although, next time we hang out, we’re going shopping. That blue T-shirt made your skin tone appear way more porridge than Arctic hare, and I have a feeling the rest of your wardrobe isn’t much better.’ ‘It’s no better,’ I started to reply, before Blessing, who had turned to check the time on the airport display board as she picked up her purchases, gasped. ‘Hello!’ She whipped her head back, eyes wide with glee. ‘What a perfect day for your secret lover to appear.’ ‘What?’ I instinctively craned my neck to scan the trickle of travellers wandering about the concourse, embarrassed anticipation flooding my pale cheeks. I didn’t have to ask who I was looking for. Blessing had been teasing me about Pip Hawkins since she’d caught us chatting back in September. Not that she knew we were on first-name terms.