"Ugh, this is driving me nuts!" Kimber threw her brush down on the vanity. Stormer raised an eyebrow from where she sat on the couch.
"Problem?"
"How the hell do you do that thing with your hair? I've been trying for a half an hour now, and I can't get it to do it!" The red-head huffed, leaning against the counter and folding her arms.
"What thing?" Stormer said, snickering at her friend.
Kimber shrugged. "You know, that THING. You get it all wavy and perfect. I can't get my hair to do it, and the curling iron is starting to singe me."
Stormer laughed. "Uh... I hate to be the one to break it to you, but my hair is naturally wavy. I don't DO anything to it. Ever. It doesn't cooperate."
"I know. But your hair always looks good. I wish mine was like yours. I wish we could trade." Kimber laughed.
"No, you don't. You'd get sick of it." Stormer said as she finished her makeup. They were on in thirty minutes, and the crowd out there was already getting loud.
"Shana says that all the time." Kimber turned back to the mirror and settled for brushing it out straight. "Ugh, I can't do anything with it tonight!"
The synth player smirked at her. "Want me to do it?"
"Would you?" Kimber breathed a sigh of relief and hopped over to the couch. "Pretty please!"
"Ok, sit still, baby." Stormer teased, working a brush through her hair. The synth player loved this, loved running a brush through someone else's hair. How often had she done it for Pizzazz? Sometimes even Roxy asked her for help. It was nice. Oddly relaxing. "How did you want it?"
"Oh, I don't care. Just so its not a frizzy mess like it is now." Kimber grabbed the nearest magazine and flipped through it while Stormer brushed her hair.
"Sooo picky!" She snickered. "I don't know what you're bitching about, you've got great hair. At least you don't have to dye it all the time."
Kimber glanced up at her, giggling. "What IS your real hair color?"
"I'll never tell." Stormer shot her a mysterious look. "Turn back around, I'm gonna put it up."
"Brown, like your eyebrows." Kimber said it like it was a bad thing, flipping through the magazine. "Oh god, did you read this? I can't believe the crap that gets published!"
Stormer reached down and grabbed the magazine, flipping it so she could see the cover and then handing it back. Cool Trash, go figure. "I have never seen anything cool published in that thing."
"Yeah, well I guess they couldn't exactly call it 'Trash and More Trash', could they?"
"That would make it seem like they believed in honesty in journalism or something. God forbid." Stormer said, pinning Kimber's hair up and reaching for the curling iron. "What were you reading?"
"Kimber and Stormer, Music's Hottest Couple." Kimber snorted. "Outrageous!"
"Oh yeah, that. I hope the other Misfits haven't seen that, I'd never hear the end of it." If she ever talked to them again, she thought. Stormer rolled her eyes. She set about busying herself steaming Kimbers' long red hair into delicate twists.
"And they've got witness testimonials! People who've supposedly seen us... ew!" Kimber paused to read the rest of the paragraph. "Wow, who writes this crap? Better yet, WHY do they write this crap? They don't really think we'd make a cute couple, do they? Although, the survey they've says more record buyers everywhere agree..." Kimber laughed. "God, this is riduculous!"
"We DO make a cute couple, thats why they write it. Since we put out our cd I've gotten a ton of fan mail from guys in prison asking me if we ever--"
"Oookay, stop right there, I don't think I wanna know." Kimber laughed, shaking her head.
"Hey, careful, don't want to burn you." Stormer said and Kimber sat still again. She finished the article and tossed the magazine.
"Crazy. You really get letters like that?"
"All the time. Don't you?"
"No. Not that I've noticed, anyway, and I definitely think I'd notice something like that!" Kimber giggled. "Wonder why you get 'em and I don't?"
"Probably cuz I'm the Misfit, people automatically assume I'm the bad one." The synth player leered impishly. "Plus, I'm hotter."
"What!" Kimber yanked her head away just long enough to shoot her a nasty look. "There is no way you are--"
"Watch it Hologram, I've got a hot iron here," She threatened playfully, a menacing grin on her face. She finished up quickly and handed Kimber a small mirror to take a look in. "Good enough?"
"Better than that." Kimber grinned at her reflection. "No way your hotter, look at me!"
"God, ego much?" Stormer ribbed her and sat down, snatching the mirror to look at her own hair.
"This from a girl who lives 9 months out of the year in the same mansion as Phyllis Gabor." The red head giggled and made a sour face. Stormer laughed at her.
"You're brave, Pizzazz would kill you if she heard you call her by her real name. Want me to finish your makeup while I'm here?"
"Sure, I have the worst time lining up the points down my cheeks." She sat still while Stormer filled out the pink streaks that ran from her eyes half way down her face, tapering into sharp points. Stormer flashed the mirror at her. "Perfect."
"Good, open up." Stormer said, brandishing a small brush and lipstick. Kimber grinned.
"Yes, mom." She opened her mouth into a wide 'O' and Stormer painted her lips, taking time to outline them a darker shade of red.
"Pucker up." Stormer winked and Kimber giggled.
"You gonna kiss me or do my make up?"
"Mm, make up first." The synth player joked.
Kimber laughed. "Tease."
"Me? Sweety, a Misfit never teases." Stormer wiggled her eyebrows at her lasciviously, her pink-painted lips slightly parted and curled in a smile.