Chapter 67
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Jack heard Dvora’s duck-footed walk. He listened to the two quick knocks followed by three more quick knocks that was his signal not to kill whatever came through the door. He still looked through the peephole. She said, “We are in the shit. They think you kidnapped me and we are all over the news and I am scared.”
They watched TV and filled each other in on what was going on. “Tell me about the plan,” he said, sitting back on the bed as she organized the packages.
“It will be a lot easier to show you. You know the cops are looking for a man and a woman. It would be damn hard to turn you into a woman that would convince anybody, so I’m going to turn me into a man. You can help.”
Jack didn’t tell her that he didn’t think she could pass for a man. She’d been busy. She pulled out a pair of baggy painter’s pants and a billowy white shirt, with some light pink embroidery of birds on the chest, and a white baseball cap with a long brim and rainbow symbol. She’d also managed to find white cowboy boots.
Dvora pulled the goodies out of the bag she’d filled at the CVS on the border of Little Italy and China Town. He recognized a load of make-up, cotton balls, gauze pads, super glue, septic pencil, razor, ace bandages, peroxide and an electric razor with beard and mustache attachment. She explained as she went.
“First you will help me cut my hair. Then I’ll bleach it. After that I’ll change the shape of my eyes and lighten my skin with makeup and alter the way I walk-we’ll change everything. Then we’ll start on you.”
The idea of cutting Dvora’s beautiful hair and bleaching it didn’t appeal to him at all. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair before.”
“Good, it’s supposed to look ragged.”
Jack was useless on the haircut. He finally held the little mirror so she could look into the fun house bathroom mirror and do the damage herself. She had him help her with the peroxide, warning him not to get any on her clothes. What was left was hair nearly as short as his, sort of a beat generation hair-helmet. As she worked on her eyebrows she talked.
“Most of this is just girl-stuff you learn helping friends kill their hair and do makeup. There was a time I was too proud to take what I thought of as Daddy’s money. I had just opened the dance-theater troupe in Berkeley. I painted sets, sewed costumes, did the makeup, choreography, and danced at least one of the major roles in each production.”
He watched her transform the full natural line of her brow into something that somehow said bitch without saying a word. She used a pot of something she applied with little sponges to change her gorgeous skin to an unhealthy pale. With a sharp No. 2 pencil and something that looked like what coal dust might look like, if there still was such a thing, she gave herself a convincing five o’clock shadow.
Jack asked her about the Ace bandages.
“I will use them to strap my tits down. They’re not very big, but you know I’m a girl.”
Poor girls, he thought, not saying anything. She stood, stretched, walked over, and pushed him into the same uncomfortable chair she’d used.
“Now it’s time to start on you.”
“Exactly what do you plan on doing to me?” He asked.
The grin returned. “I’m going to turn you into a blond as well. We’ll leave your roots a little dark and lighten your skin. Don’t shave. I’ll want you to keep a rough looking couple of days’ beard stubble.”
She looked closely at the now 11 PM shadow and said, “Oh good, it’s coming in gray and black. Now I’ll have to show you how to walk and act toward me, but you shouldn’t have too much trouble.”
“What do you mean-teach me how to act toward you? What’s my disguise?”
With a smile, she said, “Not you dear. Us. I’m going to turn us into a gay couple.”