Page 41 of Heartstrings
“Who?”
“Our manager, remember? Trust me, she’ll have no problem getting us tickets.”
And he was right. Courtney responded to Xander’s text in seconds, asking how many tickets he wanted. We needed four in total: two for the other half of the band, one for me, and one for Felicity. Five minutes later, Xander’s phone buzzed again.
“We’re in,” he announced.
Well, shit. Courtney must really be a genie.
“Perfect,” Felicity said, rubbing her hands together as she turned to me. “Now you just need to come up with four makeup designs, right?”
“Yeah.” But that was easier said than done.
The next half hour was spent debating potential looks for each of the boys. Felicity’s idea for my portfolio was brilliant, but I still wanted my work to be cohesive. We took turns throwing out different concepts until Xander suggested one that made me pause.
“What if you paid homage to Halloween by turning us into classic monsters? It wouldn’t be hard. There are a ton to choose from. Vampires, werewolves, mummies, zombies, Frankenstein, the devil—”
“Actually,” Felicity interrupted, “Frankenstein was the scientist who created the monster, not the monster itself.”
He shot her a look. “You know what I mean. The creepy green dude with the flat head and weird bolts sticking out of his neck.”
“British lit isn’t my thing,” she responded, brushing red curls over her shoulder, “but how have you not readFrankenstein?”
“How do you know I haven’t?” he shot back.
“Oh, please,” she said with an exaggerated eye roll. “That wasn’t an accurate description of the monster at all.”
“Fine, you caught me, I used SparkNotes for that one, but the point isn’t to be accurate,” Xander said, which made me laugh, because I too had skimmed an online study guide instead of reading the book. “The point is for Indie to portray the monster in a way that nonliterary folk such as myself will recognize.”
“Fair enough, but don’t expect any surprises for your birthday,” she said, peering inside the bag of Lay’s Xander had given her before shaking it up, presumably in search of the best chip. “You’ll be receiving a copy of Mary Shelley’s classic and nothing else.”
Xander opened his mouth but was cut off when the doors to the laser tag arena swung open and rattled against the wall. Oliver and JJ sauntered out preening and singing their own praises for winning a second round in a row.
“Always so extra,” Xander muttered under his breath. Then, with a gentle nudge to my side, he said, “What do you think?”
Of Oliver and JJ’s performance?My confusion lasted a full second before I realized he was talking about his suggestion for my portfolio, not his friends. “Halloween is my favorite holiday,” I told him, “so believe me when I say I love the idea.”
“But?”
“Do you know who Jack Pierce is?”
He shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“He was a makeup artist who worked for Universal Studios during its classic horror period. People call him the monster maker because he designed some of the most iconic monster makeuplooks in film history. ThinkDracula,The Mummy,The Wolf Man,” I explained. “There’s a reason why the image of a hulking guy with a square head and electrodes on either side of his neck comes to mind when people think of Frankenstein’s monster—that’s how Jack Pierce reimagined him. That was his design.”
“So you don’t want to do classic monsters because you feel like you’d be copying this Jack Pierce guy?” Xander asked.
“Copying isn’t the right word. People have been doing monster makeup for years. It’s more like I don’t want to tackle something that’s such a quintessential part of cinema makeup history. Besides, I’ve done vampires and werewolves and other scary stuff before. Where’s the fun in that?”
Xander nodded as if my rambling made sense, which I wasn’t sure it did, but I appreciated the gesture. “All right,” he said. “Guess that means we have to go back to the drawing board, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.” I shifted in my seat, and the movement pitched my purse from my lap.
“Don’t be,” he said. “This is what brainstorming is all about.”
Stretching an arm under the table, I fished around for my bag. When I found it, I pulled it up and ran my finger over the Jack Skellington key chain clipped to the zipper. As a kid,The Nightmare Before Christmaswas my favorite movie, but I didn’t get to watch it often because it scared the living daylights out of Violet. She preferred tamer Disney classics likeBeauty and the BeastorThe Lion King. After a moment of reminiscing, a new idea unfolded in my mind, and I straightened in my seat.
“What is it?” Xander asked, eyes narrowed in question.
