Once upon a Murder

2. Of eyelash curlers and potato sacks

The doorbell pinged angrily, as if the person at the door had a personal problem with it. This was a clear indication that the person outside was Rebecca, who was no doubt accompanied by her professional sized makeup kit and a whole lot of accessories.

Sandrine was greeted by a large black box with a denim jumpsuit clad body and Rebecca's favourite black stilettos.

Sandrine said with barely concealed mirth, "Oh hello. I think you've got the wrong address. I didn't order any package."

Rebecca's face suddenly popped out from behind the box. She wasn't very tall but her six inch heels always managed to make her stand out. She was fashion model gorgeous with blonde streaked hair, and a long, slender neck. She had a pretty oval face, and always aced the 'no makeup' look. Her hair which reached her shoulders was now tied up in a messy bun.

Rebecca gave her an unamused glance. She said, " Ha ha, Sand. Very funny. Help me out here. I've got everything you need to look amazing for your date."

Sandrine said, somewhat hesitantly, while taking the box (which was phenomenally heavy), "Actually, Rebecca, it's not a date. Andrew just managed to secure us a meeting with 'Evangeline Waters.' And I'm supposed to be there in precisely, 3 hours and 30 minutes."
Rebecca smirked, "Alright. Then, we have to get you ready for your 'not-date.' "

Sandrine started grumbling, but one look at her friend's face and she gave in. 'Not date' it was.

She was dragged by Rebecca into her room and a wide variety of clothes were flung at her. She went on shaking her head until a dress was thrust towards her with conviction. Black with a modest neckline, short sleeves and knee length. It was professional and pretty at the same time. She nodded and Rebecca just smiled and threw the dress at her.

She was then dragged into her bathroom while Rebecca attacked her face with brushes and foundation. Years of experience had taught her that arguing was futile and she was better off letting Rebecca do as she wanted.

So she sat patiently while her friend did her makeup using products she didn't even know existed. She was staring at an implement which looked like it belonged in an operation theatre rather than a makeup box.

"Eyelash curler," Rebecca said noticing her friend's questioning glance towards said curler.
Sandrine gave an involuntary shudder at this information. That thing was for her eyelashes?!

After about an hour and a half, Rebecca finally put down her brush and heaved a sigh of relief.
Sandrine peeked at the mirror. She looked nice but definitely didn't feel herself . She gave her friend a pained smile. Her friend just gave her an exasperated look. She wore her dress and stepped into her flats. Rebecca waved a pair of heels at her but Sandrine gave her a determined look.

She said, " No way, José. I let you paint my face, and stuff me into a potato sack, but that's where I draw the line . There's no way you're forcing me into those monstrosities. I will fall over my own feet. "

Rebecca finally acquiesced, "Alright. Go, Sandrine, live your life. Have fun at your ' not-date.' Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Sandrine gave her a dirty look and walked out, picking up her bag on the way.

{****}
A/N: Hi. I just wanted to thank you for reading this.
Also, please comment and vote! It'll make me very happy. 😊

PS: The picture is of an eyelash curler. Use it wrong, and well, you don't want to know what might happen.
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The protagonist's opinion on eyelash curlers is my own. It's uncanny.