Molly | Herophine

Chapter 7: Tattoos and Weaves

It's Monday. First day of filming. Since Hardin Scott has lots of tattoos, I have to be on set early for makeup. Taking a quick shower at four in the morning is hell I tell you... hell! I trudge on set, dropping by the Starbucks across from our hotel, and go straight to my assigned trailer for makeup by five in the morning. The set is already very busy with crew running around with equipment and shouting instructions, it's quite a systematic chaos.

When I finally get inside the trailer, the artist is already ready and waiting by one of the recliner chairs fronting a lighted vanity mirror. There are other crew inside the trailer, setting up makeup tools and products on the vanity table.

"Morning! Hero, right?" He asks as I approach him and I nod while I sip my coffee. "Mitchell," he introduces himself, extending a hand out to me.

"Good morning Mitchell, nice to meet you," I say, taking his hand for a shake. "Shall we start?"

"Yeah, you can take your shirt off and hang it there," he points to some hooks on one of the walls with hangers.

I do as he says before settling down on the chair. Mitchell goes straight to work. He starts with the tattoo on my stomach-a dead tree-as I fiddle with my phone, answering a few messages from my family and friends back home. Just as he's putting in the final touches to the tattoo, the trailer door opens and closes. Since I'm in a reclined position, I can't really see who came in, probably one of the hair and makeup crew.

"Hey, I'm Josephine. I was instructed to come in early for my weave?" The sweet Australian accent echoes within the small space of the trailer and I nearly choke on my own tongue.

She's here.

"Hi sweetheart, I'm Tasha and I'll be working on your hair," one of the crew says and I hear some shuffling on my right side.

I turn to sneak a peek and see that she's already seated on the chair right next to me. I don't think she has noticed my presence as her fingers furiously tap on her phone, a slight scowl covering her face. I'd bet my leg it's her stupid boyfriend. And I'm guessing it's that Timothy guy who's been calling Jo and making her cry. I don't like him already even if I haven't even met the guy. The fact that he's been the reason behind the times I've seen Jo cry, I have already concluded that he is a motherfucking asshole.

"Alright, let's make your hair pink sweetie," Tasha excitedly says but Jo only gives her a forced smile. I could see the doubt cross her features even from where I'm reclined, only having her side profile visible to me.

"Hero, I'm gonna adjust your seat and we'll move on to your arms," Mitchell says, interrupting my view of Jo as he stands in the way between me and her, but not before her head nearly snaps off her neck by the way she whips her head to face me. Once the chair is adjusted to its normal position, Mitchell moves out of the way and goes to my other side, drawing intricate temporary tattoos on my arm.

"Good morning Jo," I greet her, flashing my most charming smile and hoping for her to at least acknowledge me.

"Hey Hero," she says, giving me a quick nod before turning back to face her phone. Tasha has already started putting in her weaves of pink hair and every so often, I'd notice her face pinch in pain or discomfort as I stare at her through the mirror, quietly sipping my coffee. At one point, she groans loudly out of frustration and closes her phone before slamming it face first on the table. She's mad.

And damn does she look hot when she's mad.

"What?" She stares back at me through the mirror, calling me out.

"Nothing," I smirk which I think only fuels her temper as she huffs. As fucked up as it is, I want that Timothy guy to screw things up between him and Jo so I can finally have my chance with her.