Masked Love

Copyright © 2010 Victoria Ladipo

All rights reserved.

Chapter 1- "Belle Filles"

"Dah-ling, you are going to look tout simplement magnifique!" Fallip exclaimed as he coated something on top of my eyelids. My hair was being tugged at every direction as stylists carefully played with it. Soft bristles of hair kept touching my face, rubbing something all over while something soft and smudge-y brushed my lips. "What a merveilleux sport you are being!"

I have never met someone who spoke with such enthusiasm, as if he were the one that was being pampered. Maybe he loved his job. Or maybe he was paid to say that to every girl he worked on before me. Maybe his French accent and French words made girls swoon. It didn't work on me though. I didn't want to be here. No I was forced by my own will.

"Ahh, vous avez terminé. Si belle qu'elle apporte une larme à mes yeux!" So beautiful, it brings a tear to his eyes. A tear! And what is his talking about? Me or his soi-disant merveilleux travail? His so-called wonderful work? He spun the chair I sat on and my reflection stared back at me from the vanity mirror.

The person who stared back at me, I knew was not me. This whole other girl has makeup painted on, that is currently revealing features I never knew I had. Her sorrel colored hair with tips of silver, was now glossed and shiny, hints of red showing as it cascaded past my shoulders and down all the way to my chest where the silver tips curled in perfect circles. Heavy eyeliner and mascara with dark rouge red eye-shadow coated my eyes, my aubergine-colored eyes popping eye and exposing dove-gray and forest-green colored flecks, which made my eyes sparkle. They didn't have to use concealar on my face since I already had a clear complexion but they did brush blush onto my cheeks, giving it a pretty hint of strawberry. Overall this was a wonderful job and any mean thoughts of Fallip I had, was erased. I wanted to cry but that would mess up his job.

"Thank you, so much," I said, showing my sincere gratitude. Fallip pressed his handkerchief to his eyes, dabbing the corners. His assistants standing off to the side, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Vous êtes l'une des plus belles filles, j'ai travaillé sur et il a été un honneur. J'espère que vous avez choisie dans le cercle des vainqueurs," Fallip said, speaking in full French. Was I really one of the most beautiful girls he worked on, and was it really an honor? I stood up, because that was the most beautiful compliment that was thrown my way, whether it was fake or not. I walked to him and embraced him. He didn't have to make girls swoon, it just came naturally and I hope I would have him as one of my friends in this competition. And he hoped I made it into the winner's circle. I hoped not because this was useless.

"Je vous remercie," I thanked him in French. When I pulled back, he still held onto my arms.

"Je parie sur vous. Do not forget me, Isabella douce," He said. What did he mean he was betting on me? And now he was calling me Sweet Isabella. He let go and recomposed his face. One of his assistants grabbed me by the arm and ushered me out the room but I looked back once more to see a scrawny girl walk in the other door. Fallip gestured for her to sit down just like he did to me. But he looked back at me, giving me an encouraging wink. I turned back around and let the assistant lead me to another room, down the corridor. I could hear giggles and laughter behind the closed doors. Lucky girls were here with their friends while I was alone.