Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(59)

But the thought of someone from school seeing her leaving my house in the wee hours of the morning was all it took to kill that fantasy.

And honestly, she’s not the one who needs to put in the extra work.

“We only have a few more weeks and he wants us to be good,” I say, but even I can’t believe how crazed Dad’s getting. I tried talking to Mom about it but she says that he’s just going through a phase. That it’s the happiest she’s seen him in a long time and she’s willing to put up with the facial hair and silly clothes until Dad gets back on his feet with work. “Anyway,” I continue, “we have something much more important to deal with right now.”

“Sleep?” Matt says, collapsing on his sleeping bag.

“No.” I move to my closet and take out the loot from the drugstore. “We’re going to test out our rock-and-roll images. This way, if anything doesn’t work, we’ll have time to tweak our looks before the performance.”

“Cool.” Sean grabs the bag from my hand and looks inside. “I was wondering when we were going to get to use this stuff.”

“Aw, man.” Matt drops his head on his pillow. “Can’t we do it some other time? I’m wiped.”

“Don’t be a tool bag.” I grab his arm and pull him up. “You’ll thank me when you see how kick-ass you look.”

“You keep saying how I’m always going to thank you, but I never do.”

“I know. You ungrateful bastard.”

Matt laughs. “That’s not really what I meant.”

“What should we start with first?” Sean says, separating the grooming products from the contraceptives and tossing them on my bed. “Hair dye? Teeth whitening? Spray tan?”

“We’re not doing it here.” I collect up the various boxes, bottles, and tubes and chuck them all back into the bag. “We need access to water and towels.”

The three of us retreat to the bathroom. I lock the door behind us so we won’t be interrupted.

“Dude,” Matt says. “Isn’t it going to seem weird, all of us in the bathroom at the same time?”

“Relax, dawg.” I clap him on the shoulder. “If anyone comes to the door, I’ll just tell them we’re giving you a bikini wax.”

Sean cracks up. Matt just glowers.

“Everyone’s asleep,” I assure him. “No one’ll even know we were in here. I promise.” I take the hair dyes out and line them up on the counter. “Each of us has to choose a color. Since this is my brill idea, I get to pick first. And I want . . . green.” I snatch up the green hair dye. “Because it’s Pimp Daddylicious.”

“What color do you want?” Sean asks Matt.

“I don’t care.” Matt shrugs. “Purple, I guess.”

“Muy bueno.” Sean grins. “Rojo es el color del fuego! And El Mariachi has a fiery passion like no other.” He does his bullfighter prance, complete with concluding foot stomp.

Matt stares at him. “Please tell me you’re not going to do that on stage.”

“Si!” Sean waggles his eyebrow. “If dee mood strikes El Mariachi.” He laughs. “I knew my sixth-grade Spanish class would come in handy.”

We shuck down to our boxers and wash our hair before attacking the packages of hair dye.

“Shouldn’t we read the instructions first?” Sean asks, examining the miniature manual.

“Instructions are for pussies.” I snatch the little booklet from his hand and toss it in the trash. “Obviously, we just slather all this crap on our heads and let it sit overnight. What could be simpler?”

I dive in first, squeezing the tubes of goop into my palm and scrubbing it all onto my scalp. Once Matt and Sean see how easy it is, they follow suit. We wrap the white bathroom towels around our heads and move on to the tanning products.

“I wasn’t sure which brand to buy so I got three different kinds,” I say.

“Which do you think will look most natural?” Matt finally seems to be getting into the spirit of things. He reads the label on each bottle. “BronzedGod? Tan-tastic? Or Natural spRays?”

Sean studies the containers. “I’m doing all of them. Us Latin lovers need to be tall, dark, and handsome.”

“We got the dark part covered.” I rustle through the bag. “But I don’t think we purchased any handsome lotion or Miracle-Gro.”

“I don’t need any lotions or potions.” Sean places his hand on his chest. “I happen to have been told, on more than one occasion, that I am unconventionally good-looking.”

“By who, dude?” I laugh. “Your mom? That just means you’re butt ugly.”

“And,” he adds, “as far as my height goes, I’m sure you didn’t notice, but I had a growth spurt this summer.”

“Eww,” Matt says. “I hope you cleaned it up.”

“Screw you, yankcheese.” Sean grabs one of bottles. “All right. Who’s gonna spray me down?”

“That’s what she said,” I cough through my fist.

Matt laughs and takes the spray bottle from Sean. “I’ll do it. Close your eyes.”

We take turns basting each other with the various tanning sprays. Spinning around to make sure we get an even coat. By the time we’re finished with all three products, a thick brown fog clouds the bathroom.