I don't trust anyone. We trusted Dizzy and look what happened.
"You get coins because you're real," Poppet continues. "You don't put on an act like the other girls and guests dig that you're authentic. But you need something more to draw them in."
I grin. "That's what you're here for."
"Sit down." Poppet points toward the vanity ottoman. "Either you shed that shell of yours or we don't have a deal."
"No dice."
"Domino, sit down."
I sit.
She leaves the room and returns with a wet washcloth. "I'm going to remove your makeup. It might take me a while since you've been caking new stuff onto old for days. Yeah, I've watched your beauty routine."
I try to feign shock, but I can't move a muscle. My body shuts down as Poppet scrubs away at my face. I don't know why I'm letting her do this. I haven't left the bathroom without my armor in months, ever since I realized how good it felt to have an extra layer between me and the world. But because I don't want Poppet to be scared of me, and because I know she may be right, I let her work. My heart hammers in my chest, and a cold sweat breaks out across my skin.
I feel exposed.
I feel ugly.
"Look how beautiful your skin is beneath all this junk." Poppet turns the washcloth over.
"Please don't say that," I mutter.
"Say what? That you're beautiful."
I wince.
Poppet squats down so that her head is near my lap. She looks up at me, lays a hand on my knee. "Domino, it's okay to be pretty. And it's okay to be complimented."
My throat aches with emotion. She doesn't understand why this is impossible. She wasn't there when I used my mother's beauty to lure them in and do unspeakable things. She didn't hear when Wilson silenced my tears and offered to take over so that I didn't have to remember.
"I don't know what happened to you," Poppet says quietly, "but I know you're not the only one with a past you'd rather forget." She holds my gaze. "I'm going to remove the rest of this makeup, okay?"
My bottom lip trembles, but I refuse to cry.
As Poppet wipes away my foundation and moves to my ears, unhooking my piercings with tender hands, she says softly, "Thank you for what you did last night. You were right. The other girls don't like me. But that doesn't matter now." She meets my gaze with uncertainty. "Because I have you. My partner."
I grab her wrist and she stops unhooking my lip ring. "That's right, Poppet. You do."
At that exact moment, Candy strides into the room. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting a moment?" She shakes her head. "Gag me."
An hour later, Poppet has removed my gold wig, and I've washed out my hair. She's taken a blow dryer and round brush to my mane, and applied lip gloss, blush, and a touch of mascara to my face. Regardless of how many times I plead, she won't add any more. Candy sits on the bed, blowing bubbles with cherry-scented gum, as Poppet hands me a white dress.
I hand it back to her. "I don't do white."
"You do now."
"Put it on, Minnow," Candy urges. "Not like you'll look any worse in that than you do in any other color."
I smile at Candy, because I know she wants to see the completed makeover.
I point the dress at Candy and then start to pull it on. "For you, Candy dearest."
"Bite me." She blows another bubble.
When I'm done, Poppet gives me two silver studs and a pair of nude pumps. Then she walks me over to the mirror.
"We have to go," Candy says. "We're going to be late."
"Can it," Poppet snaps, surprising up both. "I want to see her reaction."
She positions me in front of the mirror, and my stomach churns.
I'm completely and utterly exposed. Blue eyes popping, blond hair shining, thin legs showing, small chest heaving. I turn away and fight rising bile. Poppet takes my chin and turns me back toward the mirror.
"Look at yourself," she says.
I shake my head.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Minnow?" Candy chimes in. "Look in the damn mirror."
"I already did."
"Well, look again."
I do, but only because Poppet worked so hard. When I turn back, I see my parents staring back at me. My mother's cheekbones. My father's nose. They're gone, but I still can't escape them. Though my mask is removed, I remind myself that my serpent tattoo still vines up my side-a token I got after I left home. A lifeline that tells me I am still me, and that though I've done terrible things, I can slither through tall grass unseen if need be.
You know what you look like to me? Wilson says gently. Strong.
Mercy chooses that exact moment to round the corner and stick her head in. The skin surrounding her eye is black and blue, and there are bruises shaped like fingerprints on her neck. She sees me, and her mouth parts. Her eyes run over me for an excruciatingly long time. Then she says, "If you were trying to look like a tramp, then you've succeeded." She pauses. "Time to go. Now."