Excerpt from THE HOUSE OF NOWHERE

I thought I'd change things up today, and showcase a bit of my writing. This is an excerpt from a fantasy novel based in a world where elemental beings dominate everything. Or, at least, they used to. I have several projects I'm working on, but this character has become one of my favorites. She is damaged but loyal, and kicks some serious ass...

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

The Quill Point Inn was a pitstink. Ennetha never wandered into this part of town much, as it's where the far less reputable Eartheners lived. Not that she was much better but...well, she was not that bad. The fact she called these people less reputable was saying something. At least there was no chance she'd run into Belderr here. He never graced this part of the city in person. His goons, however, visited quite frequently. As long as she kept a low profile, she'd be fine.

The walk gave her time to think. Not that she was any closer to figuring out what exactly she was doing here. Yes, she wanted to know what happened to her sister, and why. But did she really want to get mixed up with the Aqueous? She didn't need this job to find answers; she could find them on her own. But what of Tilio and Rogan? They already knew too much about what's happening. If she left them out of it, that could draw their suspicions. If she accepted the job, her men would be closer to seeing what she was than ever before. Both options were risky. She'd have to be careful and vigilant no matter which way she chose.

Ennetha's frustration wasn't helping her any, so she set the worry away. She had other things that needed her attention. Like not getting killed while she was here.

Ennetha kept her mouth in a serious, no nonsense line. Her eyes took in everything around her as she meandered down the road, her hand hovering near her pouch. Just in case. She was sure Ghan had no idea the slab of shite he'd decided to stay in when he arrived. To him, it would have all looked like the same slab. A man like Ghan would certainly stick out in a crowd like this, with his prissy walk and hooded robe. Ugh, that robe. The heat was rising and the sun beat down on her without mercy. Ennetha didn't know how he could stand it. Yeah, the Eartheners here would take one look at him and see him for what he was. An outsider.

Hopefully, someone around here hadn't killed him already.

The dust from the road rose around her boots, celebrating its extended freedom from the rain. Around her were Earthen men and women, their heads hanging low, their eyes darting cautiously around. Some were on horses, or pulling horses behind them, but most were on foot. Many sent her sideways glances as she passed. Her head stayed up, her eyes stayed loose.

Shabby buildings were set up all around, their stone and mud walls looking tired and slumped. In front of them were similarly flaccid figures, some selling cheap wares and poorly made Bindings, others looking as if they were asleep or dead. Maybe it was the heat. More likely, it was because they, like the buildings around them, had flat out given up on life.

Ennetha saw the sign for the Quill Point Inn, its dusty face swinging back and forth in the dry wind. The feather quill on it's surface was nearly the same beige tone as the rest, thanks to all the encrusted dirt.

"Hey pretty girl, what yer lookin' for 'round here? Bet I can help yer find it."

Ennetha's eyes slid to her left. A man stood at the lip of the alley, not ten paces from her, his face covered in midday shadows. She could see straggly strands of gold hair, ruddy cheeks and a broad belly near to bursting under his woolen shirt. His eyes peeked under his hair, partially hidden in the darkness, but the sneer on his face made his intentions clear. He smiled at her. What teeth he had were brown and chipped.

See this was exactly the type of trouble she'd been hoping to avoid. Ennetha considered just moving on, but she knew this type. He wouldn't let her get away so easy. 

Was it a greasy piece of shite like you that slit my sister's throat?

The thought popped up out of nowhere. Following it was a vivid image of Kailani: her blue eyes empty, her little mouth round with shock. The gaping wound on her neck with more blood pouring out than an Aqueous could contain. Ennetha felt her face stiffen. She was both sickened and enraged at the unwanted image.

Keep walking, she told herself. Instead, Ennetha gauged the distance between them. Her stance was relaxed, ready. Her sister's murderer was not this man. He or she was not in this town. Of that she was certain. But who's to say this tottler hadn't done it to someone else's sister? By the looks of him, Ennetha would wager he probably had.

 

And that was the last bit of convincing she needed.

She sent him a decent stare of her own, her voice echoing some of her fury. "Seeing as you can't even find yourself a bath, I don't imagine you'd be much good to me."

"I'd watch that pretty mouth if I're you, whore. Pissy tone like that'll get me antsy." His hand made a trail down his chest, moving over the big bulge of his stomach before grabbing lewdly onto his crotch. It seemed to be buried under a filthy, formless cloth, one that had long ago lost its resilience. A gravelly laugh rolled out of him, mixed with a tinge of something vile. "Yer got more to say to me, bitch?"

She thought about Belderr's goons, no doubt somewhere nearby. Just keep moving. She took a deep breath, willing herself to listen. You push that anger away now before it gets you killed.

Ennetha eyed him up and down, ensuring he saw the message that he wasn't worth her time. "Seeing as I don't wanna make you antsy...I'll just be on my way." She was only a fraction into her turn when she saw his hand slide to something behind his back.

She smiled, though she doubted he could see it. "I guess you're right...what fun would that be?"

Her curved dagger was in her hand before he brought his weapon around. Reversing her hold, she paused. That's right, you mangy spunkbag. Make your move. The flash of his knife was all she waited to see. Her arm whipped forward, her hand releasing the blade. It glistened briefly in the sunlight before the glossy wooden handle connected with his nose. There was the sound of crunching bone before it exploded with blood.

The sight of it filled her with fierce satisfaction.

He howled, his dirty hands coming up to cover his face. He collapsed against the stone of the hovel he stood against, sliding down the crumbling wall. She walked towards him, her steps slow and purposeful. Lying on the ground next to him was his dull, rusty knife, its length no longer than her first finger.

"Really?" She hunched down, ignoring his knife and reaching for the smooth, shiny handle of her blade. Altogether, it was easily four times the size of his. "What were you planning on doing with that tin stick, you tottler?"

"Ger mroke my nonse!" Blood thickened his voice, mumbling his words. His bloodshot eyes found hers and they were round with pain. She studied his bloodied face, unfazed. The malice in it was gone; now he just looked pathetic. Still, the damage was done, and she decided to make a point to the rest of the crowd slowly gathering around them. Her hand shot out, grabbing hold of his crotch. Her stomach turned at the squishy feel of the bundle in her hand. Ignoring it, she squeezed. His mewling complaints grew quiet and high-pitched.

"If you want I could break more...," she said. His head pitched back and forth, trying its best to convince her he did not wish that at all. "Next time you see my face, you steer clear. Yes?" When he didn't immediately answer she bore down again.

"Yes!" Spittle mixed with blood dripped from his over-stretched mouth. The horrid stench of his breath competed with his teeth for the foulest thing she'd ever been this close to. If she'd thought him ugly before, the way he looked now topped it. His face was turning the most unpleasant shade of purple. She let go.

"Good. Now scattle off." Ennetha stood, sliding her dagger back into its sheath at her lower back.

Stepping over him, she left his prostrate form and moved back onto the road. A few people stood looking at the man she left behind. All of them avoided her eyes. That was good. Maybe she wouldn't be recognized. Yeah, right. She would have to make this fast.

Thinking again of Ghan, Ennetha sighed. Considering the crowd around here, she would be flat-out amazed if he was still breathing.

 

When Beauty Gets Ugly: "Know It Alls"

The “Know-It-Alls”. You know them…we all know them—and not just in cosmetics either. They pop up everywhere. I know for me personally, this person really gets under my skin. I can admit I take pride in how thoroughly I know my field. So there’s nothing worse for me than someone telling me how to do my job like I don’t already know. Like I haven’t been doing this day in and day out for a very long time. The fact that they had two years of cosmetic experience in 1983, and now want to come tell me how things are supposed to work? Yeah, I don’t think so.

I know many of my fellow cosmetic peeps are all nodding their head right now and shouting, “Amen! You tell them, girl.”

Well I’m gonna. So here’s to you:

“The Know-It-All Makeover”

This can be bad in so many ways. It all depends if you’re alone or have your friends with you. If it’s just you, that’s bad enough, but if it’s you and friends? Complete and utter nightmare. So let’s start with just you. We know it’s going to be bad when you boldly ask for a mirror before we’ve even started. When we have to push the mirror out of the way to start your foundation, that’s clue #2. Then you start commenting about the foundation around your nose. “It’s not blended right there,”…in that one itty-bitty spot the size of speck of dust. You turn your head this way and that, looking for even the slightest variance in coverage. We move on, you holding the mirror up near our ears so that we have to twist our hands at an awkward angle to work around your scrutiny. You say things like, “Can you fix that little smudge on my eye shadow? It’s a little darker right here than it is on the other eye.” “You can’t put shadow there. I know, I read it in a magazine once.” “Is the eyeliner a little thicker right here than it is on this eye?” “Can you make sure and clean that little smudge up under my eyes?” “My skin is showing on this little spot on my chin? That means you didn’t pick the right type of foundation.”…I hope you’re getting the point here, Picky Girl. Let me clue you in on something…most of us, we’ll see it and we will fix it. Just give us the chance to. We’re not going to do it the very instant you want us to, but we’ll get there.

Well, we would have gotten there…if you’d kept your knowledge to yourself.

But by this time, we don’t even care if we’re doing a good job or not. You’ve pushed us beyond our limit, and we just want you out of our face. We’ve stopped talking or responding; we answer you in grunts. Unless, of course, you get the more aggressive artist—in which case you two are probably arguing by now. Regardless of whether you buy something or not, we won’t ever touch your face again. Not with a ten-foot pole…because we’d be far too tempted whack you over the head with it.

“The Know-It-All Makeover…With Friends”

Heaven forbid if your friends are with you. Then, you have to show them everything you know, too. You’re standing over our shoulders, watching and commenting on everything. You argue over our color choices, the way we decide to apply them. You say things like, “You should do silver on the lid and a really dark contour color in her crease because of her eyes.”…Which are the size of China—thanks anyway. Your friend looks to you, nodding her head and trying to be nice. Meanwhile, she can feel the heat coming off our skin caused by our growing rage. The red flush rising in our cheeks, she has a front row seat for it. She knows that any minute our heads are going to explode—and she realizes how easily those brushes dancing furiously over her face can be turned into weapons. Every one of us is praying for this experience to end. We try and ignore you, to work on selling your friend something pretty that we know she’ll love. But you just keep getting in the way. “Oh, don’t buy that,” you toss in. “You can get the same color at Sally’s for like, five bucks. It’s all made at the same place anyway.”

Seriously. Back off.

My point is—trust us. There are many amazing tips and tricks out there; every artist I know has one or two unique techniques that are theirs alone. If you don’t let us do our thing, you’re the one missing out. Big time.

Cheers, and Happy Shopping!

***If you guys have any topics that you feel I must cover right away—leave a comment below. I have a long list of people to get to…but I certainly don’t mind taking detours!

When Beauty Gets Ugly: "Makeovers"

Alright, I’ve waited long enough. This next addition is about a large majority of what we do. Of course I’m talking about makeovers, or beauty lessons. Or color reboots. Insert whatever term you like. Bottom line, we makeup artists love them. Well, most of the time. Every now and again, always a little more often than we like, a person will come in and make us wonder where the hell the love went. These oh-so-wonderful people usually drain us completely, making us feel weary and broken and just a little more bitter towards the world than we were before they sat in our chair.

As with my previous post on returns, these are but two examples plucked from a deep pool of many. There will be more to come…oh, you can be sure of that. For today, I’m calling out two very exhausting, very tiring archetypes:

“The Forever Makeover”

This is exactly what it sounds like—a makeup lesson that goes on for-eh-ver...All because you are unsure about the foundation color, the texture of the foundation, the look of the foundation. The feel of it on your skin. There are so many formulations…how are you supposed to know which one of them is the best if you don’t try them all. Right now. One after another. Now, this isn’t a problem as long as foundation is what you’re here for. But you’re not here for foundation, you’re here for a makeover. Worst of it is, you’re not finished yet.

Okay, we finally have your complexion looking perfect and we are moving on to the eyes—where we go round after round on perfect eye shadow colors. We try this and we try that. You smile, being friendly, ensuring us you love this brand and are in need of new colors. We add a little more, then we grab our blending blush to soften it up when you ask us to. Then, of course, we have to add just a little bit more. Again. You may see our eyes darting around as we check the faces of the coworkers around us. We’re searching for ‘the look’. The one that tells us we’re not your first victim. We move on, adding mascara, concealer. Next we’re on to lips. Meanwhile, you try to be charming, you try to joke with us and make conversation. We keep up with you in hopes that the last hour won’t have been for nothing. We go through one set of lips. Then another. And another. By this time, we want to go hide behind the counter and cry. We’ve laughed, we’ve tried to be understanding, but inside we just want you to be happy. So you will just go away. Finally. If you smile at us and tell us you want it all, then all is forgiven. We discover we really do like you. But it’s not often you say that. Most of the time we hear, “Oh, I love it. I’m going see how it wears tonight. Would you mind writing it all down?”

Yeah. Sure. No problem. We smile, but it doesn’t reach our eyes. In fact, if looks could kill, you would be falling to the floor right…about…Now.

“The Regulars We Never Wanted and Can’t Seem to Get Rid Of”

Here’s an analogy I like to use when talking about you. You are like a booger we can’t get off our finger. The only way to get rid of you is to wipe you off on someone else. Not a pretty visual, but hey. It’s true. You are so bad, we will act on pure self-preservation. We’re sorry, we’re busy. Again. However, we know a great artist who might be available… If worse comes to worse, we will actually pass you off to our bestest of friends if it means we get to escape you. And it doesn’t matter how much you buy from us. Nothing you do makes it better. You are so picky, so bossy, so condescending. It has to be perfect. Perfect. And only you can verify what’s perfect or not. Who cares that the look you want is outdated by at least two decades—you are the only one who knows how to make you beautiful. I don’t know why you don’t just save everyone the aggravation and just do it yourself. But no, you must train us dumb artists on how to do our job. And you care not for our time or personal lives. If we’re forced to stay late for you, that’s okay. That’s our job, right? We’re lucky to even have one.

Well, let us tell you something. We like our jobs. Well, at least, some of us do. And we like ourselves. Somehow, I think that’s your biggest problem. You don’t know how to like yourself, or at least like the way you look. And that has made you bitter. Unlike us, you can’t just wipe that kind of booger away. This one will stick to you forever if don’t do something about it. So here’s hoping you find a way to like yourself again. And if you do somehow manage it, we’ll be here, waiting.  

Cheers. And happy shopping.

When Beauty Gets Ugly..."Returners"

Before I begin today, I would like to take a moment to address anyone reading this who considers themselves a customer of cosmetics. The people I call out here are the worst of the worst - the most notorious customer types in our business. As I said in my previous post, my goal here is to help you understand how not to shop in cosmetics. So if you're asking yourself if I'm talking about you, the answer is probably not. I'm just giving you some insight into why those beauty experts sometimes act the way they do. Case in point, why do they look at you a little suspiciously when you return something? Or why do they open that box when you hand it over? Well, let me explain...

Anyone who knows retail understands how epic the topic of returners is. You will see me hit on this topic again and again. There are so many different archetypes that fall under this heading, it's hard to know where to begin...oh, wait. Actually, I know just where to start. How about with:

"The Trickster"

Almost nothing gets our blood boiling faster than you. You count on the fact that we won't open the box during the return. In fact, there are some stores that tell us not to open the product because they don't want the customer feeling uncomfortable - not that we listen BTW. Because that would just encourage you further. You think you're so slick, replacing that $200 cream with drugstore body lotion, like we can't tell the difference. Or filling that fragrance with water. You think we don't spray it to make sure? Oh, how we love the moment we get to toss your duplicity in you face. Really, it makes us giggle on the inside. But even if you do manage to fool us, it will only be once. We have your name, and we pass it on. Plus, we spread the word to everyone on the floor, just in case you come in again. That's why you bounce from store to store, because you know you can't hit the same store twice. And if you're not the brightest bulb, and you do try to purchase at our store after pulling your little shenanigans - my advice is be careful. You may just get your cheap body lotion back.

I can't talk about returns and not touch on this person:

"The Constant Returner"

Oooh. We really don't like you. At all. Know why? Because we are not allowed to not sell to you. We would love to tell you to take a hike and never show your face again, but our management kind of frowns on that type of thing. So you keep doing your thing, and you wonder why every person in the department ignores you. Now you know. No one wants to take that hit. For people who make commission, or have goals to make, it's inevitable that you always come in - always at the end of the month - and screw up our numbers. Yeah, I know - it just didn't work for you. Nothing ever works for you. I mean, really? Nothing ever? Seriously, you literally never keep anything we sell you. Of course, we do understand the real problem. That shopping high wore off, or it was time to pay that credit card bill. I'm not going to preach that we aren't all guilty of that from time to time, but not two, three, four times a month. When it seems to be your only hobby, that's a problem. One we are all so very tired of dealing with...

My goal isn't to make people feel guilty for returning, or to make them think we instantly dislike them if they do return. For 80% of people, it is entirely justified and forgivable - even when you do stretch the limits sometimes.

This is for the people who constantly take advantage of us. So, I will wish them well by saying, "May that new face cream give you many breakouts - at least then that return will be justified."

:)Cheers, and happy shopping.

When Beauty Gets Ugly…Part II

After this weekend, I have two very specific cosmetic world archetypes I want to focus on. Luckily, we are not confronted with these two every day, for I don’t think many of us have the patience or strength to deal with them on a daily basis. But we have all had them, and there is nothing that makes us roll our eyes faster. So without further ado, I give you the “Endlessly Annoying and Always Indecisive Woman” and the “Over-the-Phone Color Consult”.

For those reading this who don’t know what I mean by indecisive, let me give you an example:

“Do you like this pink?” The woman holds the mirror higher, tilting it just so, trying to find better lighting. She moves her head back and forth, a small line building between her brows.

“Yes, it’s not too bright, which is what you said you were looking for. It’s very pretty.” At that moment we mean it—very, very much.

“What about this pink?” She grabs one lipstick near the beginning of a long line, one we tried several rounds back. One we already agreed wasn’t right.

“That was the one you thought was too bright. Remember?" The urge to groan is almost too strong to hold back. For a moment, we actually consider saying the rude comment in the back of our brain.

“But it was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Is that the one you want?”

“But what about this one?" Again she looks in the mirror, pushing her lips out in small pout. "You said you like this one, didn’t you? Does that mean I should get this one…?”

Why is the salesperson so damn angry? Well, it’s because this same exact conversation has been going in a viscous circle for an hour and a half. Yes, you read that right. An hour and a half. Inevitably, it is always this customer that keeps us at least a half hour past our shift. Trust me, the most patient person in the world is going to start thinking violent thoughts after the first hour.

So, here’s my advice to this shopper—just stop. Stop shopping all together. You should hire someone to do it for you because obviously making decisions is really, really hard for you. I mean, you aren’t buying a car or a house, for crying out loud. It’s a lipstick. Just a small, $24 lipstick. The difference between this pink and that pink does not equal the end of the world as we know it. And if you ask our advice, take it. Or just don’t ask. Here's a fun truth for you, Endlessly Annoying and Always Indecisive, you're the person we use to torture new employees or those we don’t like.

Now to you, the over-the-phone color consult person. I know it’s hard to buy color online. I get it. But if you call up and keep me on the phone for an hour, making me put color after color on my hand, making me describe each tone to you, telling me things like, “Will that work for me? I’m a Winter.” If you do this to me, I don’t want to hear you say at the end of the conversation, “Well, thank you so much for your time. Now I know just what to order from colormefuckingbeautiful.com.”

If I hear you say that, I’m going to freak out. Big time. And I better never hear your voice again, thanks.

Have a beautiful day. Cheers.

When Beauty Gets Ugly...

For my cosmetic peeps...because some people need to learn how NOT to shop in cosmetics.

"Lipstick Lady" and "Sample Whore"

Hey, you. Yes, you. You know who you are. You're the one parading around the beauty department in a constant, hopeless search for that one perfect lipstick. You've tried every one. Every. Single. One. Plus, you've been doing this for years. Years. I honestly don't know what you're expecting to find that you haven't seen already. Yeah, we know how much you want to match that Estee Lauder coral lipstick you've been holding onto since 1989, but there's a reason they don't make it anymore. A good reason.

Oh, you know who you are-and I have one thing to say to you... Go away. Please. We are tired of hiding from you.

And then there's you. The one who drops by the counter once a week asking for samples 'because you're such a good customer'. You say you buy the products all the time...yet no one has ever seen the color of your credit card. You just need them for travel, right? Well, newsflash... We are not morons. I know you think because we sell beauty products, that we were tragically born without a brain. Not so. You think we don't understand what you're doing? Trust me, we get it. We would love nothing more than to tell you to take your samples and shove it where the sun don't shine. With a smile, of course.

But we can't say that-and you know it.

Well, here's something I bet you didn't know. We all know you. Every man and woman in cosmetics knows you. Sometimes, if you're bad enough, you're known in every cosmetics store within fifty miles. And once you're spotted, expect disdain and mockery to ensue. Heaven help you if you ever decide to get a make-over by one of us. I promise you'll leave looking like Marilyn Manson and Snookie just had a baby all over your face. Truth: cosmetics is a very small world. Now, I'm doing this because I really don't want another You. So heed my advice:

*Try three lipsticks- five at most. Once you get past three, the color is no longer true. Besides, you can't rub your lips twenty times and not look like you just wolfed down a mixed berry buffet in Vegas. Not to mention, if you push the five lipstick boundary, your salesperson is going to start picturing all the ways she would torture you if she ever gets you alone. If you decide to ignore my advice and do take that much of their time, you damn well better buy something-and more than just one something. Don't you dare leave saying, "I'm going to walk around and see how it looks." That will blacklist you so fast, your head will spin.

*If you ask for samples- be reasonable, that's all we ask. We're happy to give out samples to newcomers, once or twice tops. At that point you better buy. If you take advantage of us...you will find we've mysteriously, magically run out of samples. Each and every time you come to the counter. Forever. So just buy the damn thing already. And if you ever want to see another sample again in your life, you'll make sure and buy it from the person who so generously supplied to them to you. By all means, feel free to ignore my advice. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Cheers.