Page 28 of Haunt the Mall
She spun around, her red bat wings dinging the grates. “Oh my gosh, you’re right. Can you imagine? All those small dicks… Although a few might be packing.”
Based on his concealed bulge from earlier, my man was promising. But size wasn’t everything. Nor was it something a boss should be discussing, so I side-eyed her but smiled.
“Oh, they could have a six pack. Or a V.” She grabbed my wrist and swung my arm, dancing beside me. “Oh my god, Kat, I need a good V.”
“What’s a V?” Willow shuffled out from the dressing room in fake mud and blood-stained casualwear. However, with no makeup and a fresh face she came off as a clean preteen who’d forgotten to do laundry instead of a tough sixteen-year-old in a zombie apocalypse.
“It’s…a victory,” I said brightly.
Bree giggled and covered her mouth, twisting towards me like I was in on something other than being pervy.
Willow nodded and looked down. “This is actually pretty comfy.”
“Wow, Bree, you got your V,” I joked. “Your suggestion is a winner.”
She full-on cackled and smacked my arm. Wow. Someone was feeling friendly. Or fiendish, more likely.
Willow frowned and scanned the store. “Do I need anything else?”
“Not in this lighting,” Bree teased.
I gave her a long look. We did not resemble the undead or dystopian scavengers just because of overhead bulbs. “We do already look badass,” I said, “But you could always do your makeup to finish the apocalypse look for a real Halloween party.”
She dragged her hair in front of her face. “I don’t have any makeup with me.”
I didn’t mean to imply she needed it. “No worries. It’s all for fun anyways. You could do this or Alice or—”
“I can do your makeup,” Bree said, tweaking her horns.
Willow blinked and stepped back. “You…why would you do that?”
She shrugged. “Zombie looks can be fun.”
Were they actually going to bond? “I think we have a palette somewhere.” I power-walked to the makeup station, rifling through for the box I’d perused with that pierced-up customer a few days ago.
Willow tugged her tattered shirt. “If you don’t mind.”
“We don’t mind.” Bree grinned and propped her arm on my shoulder. “We can comp it.”
She sounded way too happy to spend store money. But this was a party.
Willow sat up on the counter—which was only allowed after-hours, I reminded them—while our coworkers chimed in with various suggestions. Bree shooed them away and painted her masterpiece. The finishing touches were a ghastly wound painted via her favorite dark lipstick.
“There. It’s finished.” She beamed.
I squeezed her shoulder. “Great job.”
“Thanks, kitty.” Bree kissed the air in my general direction.
Kitty? I wrinkled my nose. My name was Kat. Maybe she meant to be friendly.
Willow checked herself out in her camera phone, her eyebrows climbing into her hairline at the sight of her own face. It was definitely on the ghastly side. But cool. Her fingertips grazed her makeup-bruised jaw line. “Oh. This is…”
“Sick,” AJ supplied, pushing up his glasses. “You could’ve walked right off the set.”
“Is that a good thing?” Willow asked, poking the caked-on bronzer.
“Definitely. Nice work, Bree.” He held his hand up.