“We need the best concealer you have, and the foundation with the most coverage.” Becky had towed Joanna into the space in the middle of all the make-up counters in their local department store. The floor was refusing to open up for Joanna to sink into.
That was Sarah Wyndham behind the pastel pink counter. She was sniggering, of course. She’d been a snooty superior cow in high school and looked like she hadn’t changed.
The slightly older woman behind the terrifyingly classy black and white counter prowled forward, eyes fixed on the vivid purple line around Joanna’s throat. “What on earth happened.”
Joanna kept her eyes on the floor, was that a crack opening? No, just a strand of black hair. “Yesterday’s football match, I forgot to take my necklace off and it got caught during a tackle.”
The woman looked her over properly then. “You’re Joanna Jason. I saw that tackle. Also saw the two goals you scored.”
Joanna’s cheeks heated. She loved playing but hated people noticing. It was just a game…
Becky piped up. “Exactly, she’s the star of the team and a shoo-in for this year’s MVP trophy but she can’t go to tonight’s gala dinner, and get up on stage, looking like someone tried to strangle her.”
The make-up woman snorted. “From what I saw, someone DID try to strangle her. That opponent of yours wasn’t trying to untangle herself.
Joanna shifted from one foot to the other. “She apologised afterwards.”
Even Sarah snorted at that.
The back-and-white counter lady clapped her hands and called out. “Right, make-up artists, we have a mission. Make our rising football star the flawless belle of the ball.”
The DNA of Stories 