Maria held up a killer black skirt and coordinating tank top for her to go out on stage when she performs with The Wolfpack.
“I had more of a masculine look in mind when I perform with my band.” The diva informed her.
She smirked knowingly, attempted to sit up and asked her intern, “Now for the true test of a stylist. What do you have to say to that?”
Maria looked terrified. This was it, sink or swim time. She was hand-picked by the one and only Devin VonSnyder out of fifty other graduating students to take this position and she didn’t want to blow it. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. But was the boss, right? Were there times she’d have to stand her ground?
“You know, I think the jeans I wore on the plane over here will work fine.” A.G. told Devin.
Now the woman has gone too far.
“Oh no, the Queen of all things Heavy-Metal needs to demonstrate to the world not only with her music abilities she’s a bad ass, but in her ability to command a stage, and the way to accomplish this is with this killer skirt, coordinating tank, spiked jewelry accessories and nothing should adorn those killer legs but Prada boots.” Maria informed her firmly.
Devin glowed, “That’s my girl.”
A.G. looked impressed but folded her arms and decided to poke her with the proverbial fashion stick anyway, “But I’m the Alpha, the leader of the pack. Don’t you think this ensemble makes me look a bit too feminine? Like I have to have them in order to melt the faces off my fans?”
“It will remind the audience only music this good, can come from you, and you just happen to be a woman. Now, allow me to show you some fur pieces I have in mind for future shows which plays off your band’s name.” The stylist countered standing her ground and hanging the outfit back up and turning to grab another.
A.G. turned to her former one and nodded in approval, “Well done.”
“I knew she had it in her.”
“I know you don’t do emotions, but dang it you’re going to be missed.”
Devin tried to control them, but the frankfurters were turning her into a hormonal mess. Truth be told, memories of their first day together when they had the infamous Prada slash combat boot fight came rushing back and she wasn’t sure how she was going to function not arguing the musical prodigy every day. After their show, she’d be on the road heading to Germany at her husband’s request to wait out the remainder of her pregnancy. This was the last chance she’d have to tell the woman before her how much she meant to her.
“I love you diva. You’ve become the sister I never had. Because of the opportunity you gave me, I have a life. I have my wonderful husband and my two boys. Thank you for always believing in me, despite what a pain in the ass I am. No one has ever shown me unconditional love before. I’m going to miss you too.”
Maria watched the exchange with emotion and held onto hope her new client would be pleasant to work with, the women obviously developed a strong bond over the years and she could only be so lucky to have such a friendship with someone.
A.G. gingerly blotted her face and prayed she wasn’t undoing her makeup job too much, “You know what’s about to happen next, right?”
“Oh, come on, can’t you just let it go this one time?!”
She got up from her chair and stood, “Nope.” She answered firmly and extended her hands to help Devin up from the couch.
Her former stylist took them and allowed herself to be lifted. The two stared at each other and versus continuing on with the touchy feely bullshit she knew the redhead hated and surprised her instead, “Little redheaded sprite tinkerbell? You’re fired.”
She laughed and gave her friend the double bird, “Fucking perfect!”
Maria thought they both lost their minds and began to wonder what exactly it was she signed up for.
A.G. turned her head slowly and with an evil smirk which made the intern audibly gulp and asked, “I was thinking about combat boots instead for my performance tonight, what are your thoughts?”
Devin wailed with laughter.