Emma’s confusion only got worse as we entered my apartment. She stopped just inside the doorway, looking around suspiciously. “Red,” she said slowly, “are you fuckin’ with me? Are you just acting like a bumfuck rural farmgirl? This place is nice. Your car is nicer.” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the furniture and kitchen appliances. “Even your stuff is nice. Let me guess - rich dad?” 

“Nothing like that,” I said honestly. Well, at least as far as I knew. It was technically possible that I had wealthy parents in this world, and I simply hadn’t met them yet. The things in my apartment did look newish, but I was a poor judge of just how fancy it all was. 

She snorted, still looking around. “This place is nicer than mine. More expensive. Where’d you get all the cash? You dealin’? Dancin’?”

“Deliverin’,” I replied. “You know… pizza.”

Emma stopped dead. “Pizza delivery?” she asked incredulously. “Look, Red, I swear to God if you’re fuckin’ with me, I will take your money and walk on out of here. Delivery drivers do not make that much. Maybe if you’re a delivery driver with a side job stripping. You’ve got the tits for that.”

Stripping? To me, that was what happened when it was time for a new coat of paint. I was fairly certain humans didn’t get painted, but I wasn’t the world’s best source on people. And what would my breasts possibly have to do with it? Emma’s words were not in line with Fireman Jimmy’s words of wisdom, and a simple truck like myself was not equipped to figure this puzzle out.

“All I do is deliver pizzas,” I replied honestly. 

“If you say so,” she said dubiously. “Long as you pay me, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re only wasting your own money. Come on, let’s go take a look at your shit.”

I gestured and led her from the front room to my bedroom, then to the bathroom. The collection of products was still on display, both around the sink and sitting on the edges of the tub. The bottles I’d chosen to use earlier were all clustered by the front edge of the sink counter, some of them still open. Somehow, I’d managed to smear some sort of green gel on the mirror, and it had dribbled down towards the sink before falling on a tiny brush I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“What a mess,” Emma muttered, pushing her way past me and grabbing bottles. She frowned as she read some of the labels, muttering to herself. “Olay, sure, L’oreal, Neutrogena… Wait, Tata? La Mer? Dior? Girl, you’ve got some nice stuff here. You wouldn’t pay for this if you didn’t know what you were doing. What kinda idiot do you take me for?” She glared up at me, face darkening.

“Wait, Emma,” I said, my voice jumping an octave. I held up my hands desperately. “Please. I woke up and didn’t know how to do anything. Like I’d forgotten my entire life. I need your help.” I couldn’t tell her about who I really was, but it felt good to even hint at the troubles I’d been through the past two days. 

Emma studied my panicked face, eyes looking for any sign that I was lying. After a moment, her expression softened. “Alright,” she said. “I don’t have any idea what’s going on here, but if you’re fuckin’ with me, then you’re the world’s best actress. Besides, if you knew anything about these products, you’d have never gone out looking like that.”

“Ouch.”

“Don’t worry, my bumbling friend,” Emma replied, patting my arm. “Auntie Emma’s here to fix you up.”

“Thank you,” I replied earnestly. “It can’t be that complicated, right?” 

Emma gave me another withering look, then walked away.

Three hours later, I knew the answer.

Very complicated.

Right off the bat, Emma took most of the products I owned and put them under the sink, forbidding me from touching any of them. Apparently, an idiot farm girl like me was not sophisticated enough to understand the difference between layering and contouring, or which type of shampoo to use and when. After that, she made to memorize what each and every remaining bottle was for. When it was used. How it was used. Why it was used. I stared at those bottles so much that I could probably have named half the ingredients in any of them.

When she was confident that I knew what the bottles were for, Emma made me take a shower and talked me through what she called “my new basic routine” - the things that I would do every morning. Rinse my body, use the soap. Rinse my hair, apply pre-wash. Rinse my hair again, apply shampoo. Rinse it again, then apply conditioner. She showed me how to shave, which was starkly terrifying. I didn’t like the idea of sharp metal blades near the paint on my metal cab, much less touching the soft skin covering my frail human body. 

It took me two hours, but I finally managed to complete the entire checklist without Emma’s help, though my legs looked as if I’d done battle with a wolverine.

“Better,” Emma allowed. “You only got yourself once that time, and it was a tiny one.”

“So that’s it?” I asked, using a towel to catch some of the water dripping from my long hair, just as she’d shown me. “You think I’m ready?”

“Ready?” Emma laughed. “Girl, that was the easy part. We’ve still got to do your hair and we haven’t even started on makeup.”

The easy part? I thought incredulously. It had been as complicated as anything I’d ever learned as a fire truck. Somewhat dejected, I looked at the clock - it was already after three. I had less than three hours until I had to pick up Samantha for dinner, and there were so many things I needed to know in order to look my best for her. That brought everything back into focus. 

I needed to be this girl - the best version of this girl.

Maybe that would be enough to get Samantha to touch me again.

To kiss me again.

I felt the now-familiar thrill run through my stomach, and a less-familiar twinge deep inside me, in the place between my legs. I reached down and wiped at myself with a finger - and was stunned when it came away wet. Not with water or urine, but a different type of fluid entirely. Something clear that was leaking out of me. Tentatively, I reached down and touched myself, shivering at how sensitive everything felt.

What is happening to me?

“You did not pay me enough for lessons on that,” Emma said.