This is a short prompt-driven story for a writing challenge I’ve joined. The prompt is Red Lipstick:
“Will you shut up and put the damn stuff on already?” Tel ran a hand through his hair and glared at his drummer, blue eyes narrowed.
Jason’s brown eyes blazed right back. “I didn’t sign up for this, O’Brien. Why can’t we just make a normal music video like every other band on Earth?”
Liam stopped noodling on his keyboard and glanced suspiciously at his best friend. “Where the devil did you get this idea anyway?”
“Jaysus, what difference does that make? Nolan thought it was grand.”
“Our manager,” Liam retorted, “Is a middle-aged Englishman. What does he know about the youth of America?”
“What in hell do you know about it, if it comes to that?” Tel strode to stand over his friend, hands on hips. “You’re as Irish as a potato.”
The door to the studio opened. A young lady walked in. Tel’s eyes widened. She was dainty, and her flowing scarlet gown clung to her slender figure. Long black hair framed an impish face dominated by huge gray eyes. Her lips reminded Tel of a perfect strawberry.
“Jaysus,” Liam whispered fervently.
Tel took one step toward their visitor and paused. Something about those eyes …
The young lady glanced around the room, her eyebrows near her hairline. “Why aren’t you two dressed?”
Tel whirled on his two bandmates, a smug grin on his face. “Exactly.
The young lady frowned at Tel. “That dress looks ridiculous. Yellow is not your color.”
Tel let out a wolf whistle. “Yeah but red sure is yours, Lontano. I’m stunned.”
“You said you wanted us to look like women.”
“Yeah but you make the rest of us look like Bea Arthur.”
Lontano handed over a small tube. “Put on some lipstick, Bea, and let’s get this done. My feet are killing me.”
