Chapter Eighteen
When Tiffaneigh stepped outside her house half an hour later, she stopped dead at the sight of me leaning against my car at the end of her driveway. “Holy guacamole!”
“Is that a good thing? Guacamole is delicious.”
“Definitely good. I barely recognized you in that getup,” she said. “Are you wearing false eyelashes?”
“I like how that’s what you fixate on,” I said, pointing. “I’m wearing fake eyelashes, a wig, fake boobs, colored contacts, lifts in my shoes, and butt implants. I didn’t even know butt implants were a thing, and I’m wearing them. Plus about forty pounds of makeup.”
“Thelma did a spectacular job.” Tiffaneigh walked around me in a circle, looking me up and down. “Your butt looks amazing. Where can I get one of those?”
“Tell you what. We get what we need to
