Breath Of Life

Burying my head in the sand when this man almost took my life isn’t an option.

Chapter Four

Quinn

Going back to work is odd. This is my first job since everything happened. I felt a mental break was in order. My locations can be odd, and the hours even stranger. The last thing I wanted to do was freak out on set. I’m starting out small with a wedding party. I should be happy. Instead, I’m nervous. I’ve been watching the road for signs of a car following me from the minute I left the house. Detective Kunes disclosure ate away even more of my sense of security. Men like the ones he mentioned don’t seem the type to leave loose ends dangling, and that’s exactly what I am.

Maybe they’re convinced I don’t remember anything or I’m too scared to talk. It’s a double-edged sword. If they’ve forgotten about me, testifying will place me back on their radar. If they’re biding my time, it’ll give me access to protection. I’ve been going back and forth with it in my head and drawing a blank. I’m a pros and cons list type. In this case, I have no way of knowing all the details.

I pull in front of the cute, bungalow-style home where the bride and her party will be getting their makeup done. Putting the car in park, I take a deep breath as I put on my business face. It’s all about the bride, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure Amanda Thomas gets the best possible send off to a new life.

I step out of the car, smooth down my knee-length black dress, and grab my makeup kit from the back seat. I scan the area. It’s a nice neighborhood with neatly cut green lawns, small but well-kept homes, and mid-grade cars. I feel safe here. There’s no one who seems out of place, and I haven’t seen the same car for the entire drive.

I roll my shoulders, eager to get back to work. My three-inch heels click over the asphalt as I make my way onto the sidewalk and up the stone pathway that leads up to the white home. I ring the doorbell and I’m swept into the joy of the day as her mother welcomes me in.

With her wide smile and high volume big hair full of curls added by a crap ton of comb-teasing and hairspray, Mrs. Thomas is the quintessential southern woman. Her makeup is flawless, and her ice blue dress shows off her slender frame and the glow of her honey skin.

“You must be Quinn. Please, come in, come in. We are so excited to have you working for us. You came highly recommended. I’m Mrs. Thompson, Amanda’s mother.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Thomas,” I say, shaking her hand.

“The girls are sipping mimosas in the living room. I set up a table and chair for you by the French doors because of the natural light.” I follow her in nodding my head. I know from the tone of her email she’s a woman who likes to be in charge, so I’ll be taking my cues from her while giving Amanda exactly what she wants for her special day. I’m used to dealing with mothers who don’t know how to let go. The mother-in-law might be the one who makes life hell after the wedding, but during the nuptials, it’s usually the mother of the bride.

Amanda is seated in the center of the couch in a white silk robe that has an embroidered blue B on her chest, and her brides are in light blue robes with their names on it. Their champagne glasses are full, and the laughter and flowing conversation fills the space with good vibes. Amanda fixes me with her almond-shaped hazel eyes and beams. It’s a look of love I wonder if I’ll ever wear.

“Amanda, this is Quinn.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you.” Amanda stands. She’s petite with a heart-shaped face, and curves most woman would kill for. She holds out her hand, and I shake it.

“I’m pleased to be here. Tell me, what do you envision for your day?”

She glances over my shoulder at her mother, and I keep my gaze pinned to her, refusing to differ. I can’t tell her I’m on her side with my words, but I’m hoping my eyes get the message across. Her grin widens.

“I really love the makeup from the 20s ... dramatic eyes, tinted cheeks, and a bold lip. I want to do that with the girls, but played down with a lighter lip color.”

I glance at the four girls, make a note of their skin tones, and mentally riffle through the shades in my kit.

“I can do that. I think it’ll look fabulous on each of them, especially with the bridesmaid dresses you chose.”

“Thank you.”

“What about your look?”

“I want the same style, but amped up. Bold red lips that won’t stain my husband’s mouth and fake lashes. Basically, the whole nine yards.”

I laugh. “I’d be happy to do that. Would you like to go first?”

“No, I’d like to get them taken care of first so they can help keep me from freaking out.”

I laugh. “You got it, boss. Let me get set up over there, and we’ll get everything started.”

The bridal party is a riot. Quick-witted and boisterous, they’ve kept me laughing as I go down the line.

“So your life must be pretty glamorous, Quinn. We’re going to need the dets,” her maid of honor, Brittany, says. The sassy redhead with bright green eyes wasn’t the type to pull punches.

I laugh. “I wish I could validate your statement, but it’s not true. I love doing beauty makeup. But my real passion is prosthetics and horror, so usually I’m up to my neck in blood and guts.”

Amanda barks a laugh. “Seriously?”