author: Nicole J. LeBoeuf

Notes from the author:

This is another one that came from a dream. The heart-shaped compact called "Pearl" was there--I can see it in my mind's eye now. But instead of being thwarted by a mysteriously reluctant sales lady, we just came back to pick up our order and found "Pearl" missing from the shipment.

I must have really been hurting for a writing prompt that morning.

Lila and Charles are an exaggerated version of myself and my husband. He's always been more into the "girly" things than I have. If I show up for a roller derby bout with my face painted, you can bet he's the one who did it. Several years back, during a vacation on Maui, we visited a hotel spa to pamper him with a manicure. The spa attendant took down his request, then turned to me. "And for madame?" Deep in my evil little heart, I shall treasure forever the look on her face when I said, "Nah, nothing for me. I'll just wait in the bar."

Lila stood in the darkened shopping mall in front of the locked-up, closed-down kiosk. The hammering of her heart broke each incoming breath into gasping slivers. "I must be nuts," she muttered. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay. Experienced thieves probably didn't talk to themselves on the job. Experienced thieves were silent, self-assured. They also probably knew how to pick locks. Lila had no idea how to pick locks. I am totally going to jail for this. I'll be in jail, and fired, and broke, and--I must be nuts.

But after a moment, as security guards failed to explode out of the shadows, she began to relax once more into certainty. She had to have the compact. That's all there was to it.

It was weird. Lila didn't even like make-up. Make-up was Charles's thing, not hers. Costume make-up, theater make-up, going out for cocktails make-up--whatever make-up he could get his hands on, and whatever excuse he could come up with. He loved the artistry of it. He loved the way it put him in charge of a face.

Lila did not want to be in charge of her face. She didn't even want to be in charge of her clothes. It was all too much work, energy she could spend more enjoyably elsewise. As far as she was concerned, any part of her body that was willing to take care of itself could rock on and do that.

But Charles was always trying to interest her in cosmetics. Despite his own unorthodox interest in the stuff, he seemed as incredulous as some of their friends that a woman might want nothing to do with it. That afternoon in the mall he'd wheedled with particular pathos. "But just look at the colors! 'Crown Jewel Collection.' They're so bright, they had to name them after gemstones. Look, look at the Amethyst line, it's stunning."

And Lila had finally given in. She picked up the first thing that came to her hand, a cut-glass heart that was labeled "Pearl." The powder inside was opalescent and so pale as to be translucent. Lila herself was no Snow White, not like Charles, but she suspected that the eyeshadow or whatever it was would disappear even on the darkest skin, let alone on her pecan cheeks. The powder seemed simply a vector for its nacreous glitter and gleam. "How about this one, then? A compromise. You get me to wear make-up, I get to look like I'm not wearing any at all."

At which point the sales lady had intervened. "I'm sorry. That one is not for sale." She took it back out of Lila's hand and returned it to the recessed display nook where Lila had found it.

Lila should have been smug. She should have claimed victory. Oh, well, that's it then. Guess I'm not buying anything after all. But instead...

...she found herself here, now, standing in the darkened, deeply after-hours shopping mall. Because she knew in her bones that she had to have it. In some way, it was already hers.

This has been an excerpt from the Friday Fictionette for December 19, 2014. The fictionette appears in its entirety (1368 words) at Patreon and is available to all Patrons pledging at least $1/month.

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