The Unknown Family

Make over

"Complete makeover: hair, nails, eyebrows, lasers, waxing... all in one day?" The woman asked me as she read out my list of requests.

"Yes please." I answered in an agreeing tone.

She guided me over to the chair in the corner of the room, asking me questions about what I wanted to change and what I wanted to keep.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Xavier getting his hair cut by the barber a few chairs away, smirking at me through the mirror.

Xavier was taken six months before me, so I've never seen him without longish hair.

But then again, it wasn't appearances that attracted us to each other.

My hopeless green eyes opened at the sound of the creaking metal door being opened.

In came two guards, and with them, a limp body being dragged by their arms.

Xavier.

They threw him down to the ground, and left, chuckling together as they talked in their thick Russian accents.

"Liviana?" His voice was nothing but a mere whisper.

"I'm here." I said, shuffling towards him at a hurried pace, ignoring the burning pain that surged through my body.

"What happened while I was gone?" He asked as he turned on his back, rubbing away some of the blood on my face as he cupped my cheek in his large hand.

"Just a few punches and kicks, nothing major." I sadly smiled, and with his help, lifted him to lay across my lap with his head.

"Bastards." He muttered, a grimace on his face as he moved to a certain angle.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he gently grabbed my chin with one hand, moving my face to different angles for inspection.

"Says the one with a broken arm." I comment, panic lacing my tone as I saw the way his arm was bent in a clearly unnatural position.

"I'll heal, come here." He tells me as he sits back against the closest wall.

I do as he says, and he sits me down on his lap, my head leaning on the shoulder of his uninjured arm.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he wrapped his arm around me, and with my assistance, got the broken one to rest on my lap.

"I was worried about you while I was in there." He mumbled into my hair, "just let me get used to seeing you okay."

I looked up at him, a small smile making its was into my face.

He laughed a little, "I like that look on you, it makes you seem less grumpy."

"Well I don't have much to be grumpy about at the moment." I relied, leaning into him more.

In that moment, after four weeks, I decided, maybe Xavier wouldn't be so bad.

From then on, we healed each other as best we could when we got taken out for our regular beatings, and I began to teach him more fluent English, and even some French.

Xavier sat in his chair, getting his hair trimmed as he laid his arm on his lap as if was left in a black cast.

As soon as we left the Empire State Building, I took him to a private doctor of the French Mafia, the man who treated me for chicken pocks when I was a child.

He asked no questions as I swore him to secrecy.

He always complained of pain in his arm from when it was broken and left untreated, so I knew I had to take him to get him sorted.

"And... done. What do you think Miss Mayers?" The hairdresser, Marissa asked me.

My hair was been cut to just below my shoulders, died to a fiery brown. It was wavy and curly like before, but even more so due to the shorter length.

My nails were painted a charcoal black, along with my toes I got done.

I still felt the burn of the wax from when she led me into the back room, the glass of red wine relaxing me as she trimmed my hair.

"I love it, thank you." I replied with a grateful smile.

"Your boyfriend is just about to be done, you can take a seat over there if you please."

Since this was such an upscale place, they did everything. For both men and women. And Xavier was determined to get his chest waxed, getting sick of feeling the imaginary dried blood that was in there.

I picked up a magazine from the table beside me, flicking through the pages until a pair of black airforces stopped in front of me.

Looking up, Xavier's long hair had been trimmed down to shaved at the sides and a spiked mess on top, making him actually look his age; nineteen.

His white v neck t-shirt, showed the toned, clean chest beneath, his muscle from before still there, just less prominent.

He's already decided that he's going back to the gym, so I made him promise no weights till his arm was healed properly.

While we were there, they did give us some medical treatment, to make sure we don't die.

So our torsos are fine besides badly bruised.

"Woah." I breathed out as I looked him up and down.

"Te ves caliente como la mierda cariño." He commented as his hands made their way around my waist, his hands resting just above my butt.
You look hot as fuck darling

"Merci." I responded, leaning up and pecking the end of his nose.

"Come on, we need more stuff." I told him, grabbing his hand and guiding him outside the hairdressers, is having already paid before they got started.

"What more could we possibly need." He sighs, tired of being dragged around the city.

"I'll show you." I smirked.

I dragged him further and further down the streets and into the city, his giant hand held in my tiny one, his cold rings leaving my fingers with a chill.

"And.... Here we are!" I chirped as I showed Xavier where we are.

"In case you haven't noticed chica preciosa, being in the mafia tends to mean you have a lot of cars." He smirked down at me, his hands once again wrapping around me from behind.

"Last time I was outside of a cell, I was fourteen. I wasn't old enough for cars yet, so you get to help me pick one."

He nodded his head in understanding, and guided me inside the car dealership. We passed lots of different cars, colours black, red, blue, white, a variation of shapes and sizes.

"Wait, do you even have a drivers license?" He stopped me midway through the shop, a raised eyebrow to show he already knows the answer.

"I have a fake one..." I mumbled, chuckling slightly.

He just laughed and kissed my forehead, continuing to guide me around the dealership.

"That's the one." He pointed towards a completely black Porsche 911, with black leather seats and black out windows, lines around the dashboard and crevasse of the door where different coloured lights could show.

"All black?" I question.

"Definitely."

An hour later, we had bough the Porsche 911, Xavier said I shouldn't have a too fast car as a new driver, let alone one without a real license.

The car was removed from the showroom and taken out into the dealership car park, ready for us to take.

We took the keys from the driver and I took his place in the drivers seat, Xavier sat next to me.

"Where to?" He asks

I just smirk in response.