After ten minutes of the silent treatment while Joyce continues with my makeup, the quiet gets to me.
"Did you always want to be a makeup artist?"
I ask because one, despite being rude, the girl intrigues me, and two, her own makeup is flawless making me jealous, since I have trouble putting mascara on without a huge goop stuck on at least one eyelash.
Joyce halts in the middle of touching up my eyebrows, her light brown eyes meeting mine with a look that could send her to do time behind bars.
"When have you ever wanted to know anything about me?"
The frustration in her voice makes me think she wants to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but here with me.
"I just thought..."
"And another thing. What you did to Eli was nasty. Just... nasty. I hope he finally wakes up and smells the coffee one day."
Wow.
How can one respond to that? I knew she hated me, but this is a whole new level. It's like she despises me. Wishes she could create a Kendra doll to poke holes into with a needle kind of hatred.
"The photo in that magazine made it look a lot worse than it was," I say, trying to defend myself with the same excuse... yet again.
She sighs out loud, but continues with her job. I must admit, despite her obvious loathing of me she's still very professional. Maybe she gets paid super well and that's the only reason why she puts up with me.
"It shouldn't have looked like anything. That's the issue a lot of people have."
Of course. I should have realized there would be a backlash for what I did. Or shall I say, what I didn't realize I did, but I can't explain that to anyone. Right now, I feel so alone. I have no one I can confide in. No one I know I can trust to open my heart out and explain what I'm going through.It's the loneliest feeling in the world.
"Wow, I never thought I'd see the day. Kendra Banks actually,genuinely looks sad. Don't tell me the most narcissistic woman in the world actually feels... guilt?"
I might be a bitch myself, but this woman is on a whole other level. Sure, people have been saying bad things to me these past few days, but never to this extent and never with such venom in their voices.
"You might be very good at what you do, but that doesn't excuse your total lack of professionalism right now. Yes, I have problems, and yes, I upset my husband, but that is between him and I, and is certainly nothing to do with a makeup artist who is being paid handsomely to do her job. Now, you either do it, or leave. It's your choice."
Momentarily stunned by my outburst, her mouth slightly parts for a second. However, she soon recovers, her wonderful resting bitch face returning as she begins to administer some blusher.
Around five minutes go by and someone knocks on the door, immediately letting themselves in before I even have the chance to say anything.
A woman who looks to be in her forties emerges. She's wearing a very slim, blue pencil skirt suit getup, looking every bit the power woman I assume her to be. Her platinum blond hair is up in a bun, her makeup light,which she doesn't even seem to need considering she's already beautiful.
She takes in the scene in front of her, clapping her hands as her gaze fixes on the lovely lady in front of me. "Joyce, you've outdone yourself again."
Joyce smiles proudly back at this stranger, her features totally changing from when she was stuck in this room with only me. She even looks lovely herself when she's not scowling.
"Thanks, Natalie. All in a day's work." She picks up a few things and starts packing. "You've timed your entrance perfectly. I'm all about done here."
She gets the rest of her things, kisses who I now know is Natalie on the cheek, and then exits without having said another word to me.
"Wow, she is not very nice, that girl," I utter almost under my breath. Although Natalie certainly hears me.
"Can you blame her, after breaking up her relationship with her fiancé of five years? You didn't even like her fiancé, you just thought of him as 'a challenge.'"
Burying my head in my hands, I groan out loud. No wonder she was so nasty to me. I deserved every single bit of hatred she gave me. However, it still doesn't stop this growing feeling that this is not something I would do. I would never want to hurt anyone. I couldn't even harm an ant.
"Don't cover your face, girl, you'll smudge your makeup. Paris is going to come in and style your hair shortly. She's running a little late. Apparently there's been an accident on the freeway and there's tailbacks." She smiles before looking at the table in front of me. "Where's the champagne? You always have champagne."
My eyes flit towards the table. "I decided I'm going teetotal for awhile."
Her laughter shocks me so much, I nearly jump out of my skin. "You going teetotal is the most hilarious joke you've ever made. It's like Ted Bundy saying that he wants to give up severing heads."
I narrow my eyes at her preposterous analogy. But, then again, judging by our little phone exchange, this is the sort of woman she is. Beautiful, but rather... dark humored.
"Some people can change," I retort, finally noticing myself in the mirror. Wow, I look... stunning. Joyce has managed to pull off the sexiest smoky-eyed detail I have ever seen. My cheekbones look like they could snap a knife in two, and my green eyes—eyes that seem completely alien tome—are twinkling in the overhead lights.
"Never Ted Bundy."
Okay, now she's being cute with me. It's strange, thinking about it. Lots of people naturally—and sometimes quite rightly—hate me, but this woman doesn't seem like she holds any ounce of hatred inside of her. It makes me wonder how she feels about me.
"Look at that face," she suddenly says, cupping the air around my cheeks, I'm guessing so she doesn't smudge my makeup. "You're going to knock their socks off, as always."
"Why don't you hate me?" I ask, intrigued by her.
She laughs out loud again. "Honey, I think we need to get you something bubbly to drink. You're not making any sense."
"No, seriously. I want to know. Everyone seems to either dislike me, putup with me, or just downright hate me." Well, other than Eleanor, of course."But I'm getting nothing from you."
She suddenly grabs my arm, fake pouting as she fixes me with her stare. "Babes, I will always love you because you make me a shit ton of money." She then taps my arm. "Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself and go pick out some swimwear. They're already hanging in your wardrobe. In the meantime," she continues, holding up her phone and walking towards the door. "I'll go see where Paris is."
I watch her as she swaggers towards the door, barking into her phone, asking Paris if the accident has rendered her unable to use her legs. I wince at that, feeling sorry for poor Paris.
When the door slams, making me jump, I sigh before getting up to glance through the wardrobe. My eyes bug out of my head when they land on the collection—or lack thereof—of materials that are hanging up. I pickup a gold bikini set where the boob part would barely cover my nipples and the thong part is... well, a piece of string. I shudder, placing it back on the hanger, and try to find something that will at least cover the vital parts. No one-piece swimsuits, unfortunately, but there is at least a lime green Brazilian bikini thong set that will offer some sort of cover. I shut my eyes, groaning that there's nothing better than this lime get up. The color is actually lovely, but I will still have a part of my butt cheeks showing.
Oh, man. Do I seriously do this sort of stuff every day?
Using a white—of course it is—and gold patterned dressing screen, I begin to undress so I can change into this outfit that I know I will feel completely out of sorts and uncomfortable in. When I'm changed and look into the free-standing mirror next to the blind, I can't believe my eyes. I look spectacular. The top half shapes around my breasts like it was made to match, and the bottom half molds around my important bits and rests perfectly at my hips. All the swimsuits must have been designed to fit me perfectly, but it still doesn't allay my anxiety that I don't belong in this. Something is telling me that I would never be caught dead wearing this around my own house, let alone in public.
"Am I suddenly prudish?" I ask out loud, knowing no one will hear me. Still, the absurdity makes me laugh.
"What's so funny?" Natalie's voice asks, making me jump. Where the hell did she come from?
When her shadow behind the blind rounds and she takes in what I'm wearing, a slight gasp leaves her lips. "How many times have I told you to wear that bikini and you've outright refused? What's changed?"
I have? Why am I also doing everything oppositely to what people tell me I do? Maybe I've gone to sleep and been transported to an opposite world? As funny and preposterous as it sounds, it would explain why everything feels different. The only thing is, it won't explain why I can't remember a thing.
"I guess I felt like a change," I answer, defiantly. "Maybe I just woke up one morning and thought, hey, I'd like to do everything opposite to what I normally do. Try it out and see if I like it."
Natalie's eyes widen, her lips pursed in surprise. I'm guessing she doesn't do that often, because she wriggles her nose at her own disbelief.
When she steps forward like she wants to tell me a secret, I meet her, leaning over to see what she has to say, covering my boobs with my hands in the process. I suddenly feel like I'm on display.
"Are you taking that new drug on the market?" I sigh, because obviously she doesn't take me seriously. She grabs my cheeks, staring me in the eyes. "You look... normal enough..."
"That's because I am normal!" I blurt loudly. "Jeez, why is it so hard to believe that I'm not drinking and I haven't taken any drugs?"
Natalie relaxes her hands to her sides, smirking. Yep. She still doesn't believe me. Okay... whatever. Why do I even care?
"Have you gained weight?"
My eyes flit to her, noting her perusal of my body, inspecting every nook and cranny like I'm some sort of artwork to inspect and appraise.
"First drugs and now weight? What next? My boobs are sagging?"
Natalie huffs out a laugh, her eyes glancing down at them. "At the rate we're paying your plastic surgeon, I sincerely hope not. Maybe we can get you a new dose of slimming pills."
Mouth parting, I snap back, "I'm not putting anything in my body that could potentially harm me."
Natalie's head flies back, laughter erupting from her mouth. "I never thought you had a sense of humor. Thanks, I needed that."
I open my mouth to say something back, but decide against it. This conversation is getting us nowhere.
"Is Paris on her way?" I ask, thinking it best to just change the subject. Not that I want Paris to be here. It means having to get my hair plucked and pulled before the dreaded shoot by the pool.
Natalie smiles back. "Now there's the Kendra I know." She taps me on the arm in the same way a person would tap a child on the head for being a good girl.
"I'm seriously losing my mind," I groan.
"You lost that ages ago," Natalie sings, waving her hand at me. "The only thing you need to lose now is some weight."
I glance back at my reflection in the mirror with my mouth hanging open. "I'm skinny enough as it is!"
She fixes me with an unbelievable stare. "Kendra, you and I both know that there isn't such a thing as skinny enough. Not in our world."
"Our world sucks," I utter under my breath.
"What was that?"
"I said I want to earn some bucks."
Natalie chuckles. "All in good time."
As she says this the door opens revealing a woman in her twenties, her black hair in beautiful braids, her skin the color of caramel, and her dazzling eyes, the same. This lady, who I believe must be Paris could be a model herself.
"Sorry, I'm late," she puffs out, pulling along a small suitcase as she attempts to catch her breath.
"You have ten minutes," Natalie snaps back to both of us.
Without another word, Natalie leaves and Paris gets to work pulling out brushes and hair pins before glancing at my hair.
"I've been told your hair should be up today considering it's for a pool shoot."
Right down to business, I see.
"Okay, sure thing."
Paris's eyes meet mine for the first time, trying to figure me out. I guess I never talk to her like this either.
Great.
She quietly gets to work putting my hair up in an intricate bun, my cheekbones now more pronounced than ever.
"It wasn't bad, was it?" I ask, trying to break the silence.
Her hands stop in midair. "What was that?"
"The accident. I hope it wasn't bad."
She frowns a moment before getting back to her job at hand. "Six car pileup. I don't know if anyone was injured, but a couple of the cars did look really smashed up."
"That's too bad. I hope everyone is okay."
I wring my hands together as I'm nervous. Not because of Paris, but because I know I will be having to walk outside shortly in this skimpy outfit.
Paris hesitates slightly at my statement, but carries on until not a hair on my head is out of place. I study the flower bun on my head and smile at how well she's done in such a short space of time.
"It looks wonderful, Paris. Thank you."
The shock in her eyes disappoints me. I guess I'm not a fan of praise either. Go figure!
"Do you ever model yourself?" I ask, trying to get some semblance of a conversation going.
She glances around the room at first like she's wondering who I'm talking to. When she flits her beautiful eyes back at me, I cock my head to the side, waiting for her to speak.
"No...?" she says back like it's a question.
"Well, you should," I reply, getting out of my chair and onto my feet. "You're really very beautiful."
She actually blushes, glancing away shyly. "That's nice of you to say. Thanks."
We smile at each other, but then a loud banging on the door makes us both jump. A man barges in, thick, black-rimmed glasses on his face, wearing a very colorful rainbow jumper and green slacks.
"Time's up, bitches!" he proudly announces. He then takes in what I'm wearing before sucking in a breath, placing his hand on his heart. "Simply fabulous, darling. Perfect color for the pool today. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky. Life is pretty perfect."
I stand there enthralled and wonder if he's going to burst into song at any moment, he's so cheerful. At least it's taken my mind off things for the few seconds it lasted.
Before I even have a chance to respond, he's waving his hands at me. "Don't stand there all day. Come, come... it's time to let your gorgeous self shine!"
He then simply turns and leaves, causing Paris and I to glance at each other. I laugh out loud, and then she follows suit, her shoulders finally relaxing. Poor girl, must be so uptight from being late and shouted at. No wonder she's on edge.
"I guess I better get going."
Paris quickly nods. "Yes, best not to keep Wilfred waiting. He's very flamboyant, but can also be a right bitch when he wants to be." Her eyes then widen like she's realized she's said something she shouldn't. "I'm...sorry," she stutters. "I didn't mean..."
I place my hand on her arm, interrupting her. "It's fine. I promise I won't say a word. Now, go snoop around in my kitchen for something to eat and drink. Relax for a bit. You look like you need it after the morning you've already had."
She sighs in relief like that sounds perfect. "Thank you."
I give her arm a little squeeze and leave her to pack, or whatever she still needs to do in the room. I descend the stairs and like a timid mouse, exit the living room doors which lead out to the infinity pool, its waters cascading with the illusion that it's meeting the ocean beyond. Simply beautiful.
By the pool is a bar, several lounge chairs, and a camera crew of around six people all fussing around the equipment by the shoot-through umbrella.
I take in a nervous gulp, stepping forward, my legs unsteady with the shoes I'm wearing, knowing that each step will eventually alert them to my presence. After two more steps, the man I now know as Wilfred glances up,his smile wide.
"There she is... Queen Kendra of Los Angeles. Doesn't she look beautiful, everyone?" He clasps his hands together, genuinely appraising me like a work of true, outstanding art. I assume Kendra loves this man,considering he has nothing but praise for her.
There I go again. Talking as if I'm a third person.
Four of the others simply stare, but a fifth guy eyes me like I'm his favorite lollipop that he's about to lick all up. Creepy.
Laughing nervously, I approach the area under the umbrella, almost tripping over my own feet as I go. I'm way out of my depth here and it's showing.
"What would you like me to do today, Wilfred?"
I'm guessing whatever it is, I'm not going to like it too much.
"Just be your natural, beautiful self, darling! The camera would love you even if you had a tin can over your head."
Everyone laughs, so, timidly, I join in. I feel really out of my depth here.
A couple of guys take their places on either side Wilfred as he points a camera towards me. I cock one side of my lips up, wondering what I'm supposed to do next.
Wilfred, obviously sensing something's wrong, places the camera down, a small frown creasing his forehead. "Are you constipated or something?"
Or something, definitely.
"No, it's fine," I reply, waving my hand like it's nothing. Rigidly, I attempt to jut one hip to the side, my hand resting on my waist as I pout. Do I normally pout?
When Wilfred sighs, I know something's up. "Has some halfwit entered your body this morning and now doesn't know how to control it?"
"Yes," I answer, in all honesty. Although, I take offense to being called a halfwit. I'm pretty sure I'm not one.
Wilfred waves his hands around. "Okay, just try to relax and think about your favorite place... or person."
I stand there, trying my hardest to think while all the while, Wilfred snaps away with his camera. This goes on for a few seconds, with him placing me in different directions and eventually getting me to sit. He snaps a few more times before sighing.
"This isn't working."
Disappointment surrounds me. I don't like failing... at anything. It's then, glancing down at a bowl of fruit, that I have an idea.
Picking up a grape, I place it into my mouth, trying to be all seductive and the like. Wilfred snaps a couple of photos as my head is held up high. In an effort to look suave, I suck in a breath to pop the grape into my mouth, but unfortunately it ends up shooting at the back of my throat. Inevitable choking commences as I scramble to get the grape dislodged from my throat. A hand pats violently against my back until suddenly the grape shoots out of my mouth and ends up in this lady's bushy hair as she stands about trying to appear busy.
"Oh, my!" Wilfred wails as he waves his hands about dramatically.
"Here, have some water," a young guy who looks about twelve suggests, handing me a glass.
"Thank you." My voice croaks, so I swallow a few sips and try to calm my breathing. Man, that was scary.
"Are you better?" Wilfred questions. I nod my head, but if I thought I would get sympathy from this man, then I was wrong. "I don't know what's gotten into you today, young lady, but you're all kinds of messed up."
"I'll keep trying." I don't know if I'll do any better, but I'm determined to at least try. Something in me knows what I'm supposed to do. I just need to channel that part of me.
Wilfred answers with a grumble, but then movement on the top balcony of the house has me glancing up. There Eli stands, blue shorts, a white shirt opened up revealing his perfectly sculptured and hairless chest. He leans forward, taking in the scene, my smile wide, my eyes dreamy.
"Perfect! That's it! That's the shot!" Wilfred screams. "Keep that gaze going. Oh, my, this is going to the one, I can feel it!"
Despite the incessant shouting from Wilfred, his voice seems to phase out the moment my eyes fix on Eli. It's like everything else in the world doesn't exist, only him. His stare back is one of wonderment, a slight frown causing a little dent in his forehead. However, the frown disappears the moment I beam up at him like he's the most precious being on earth. But then, just as I think I see a hint of a smile back, Max yaps like crazy as he comes bouncing out of the patio doors and immediately heads for Wilfred. Gasps sound all around us as Max grips onto Wilfred's slacks around his ankles and begins growling as he plays tug-of-war. When it looks like Wilfred is about to faint, I spring into action, shouting Max's name as I bend down to pry him from Wilfred's pants. However, when I tug a third time, Max suddenly lets go, causing me to fall. I step back once, twice attempting to regain my footing, but it's too late. With Max still clung in my hands, we freefall, crashing into the pool with an almighty splash. My whole body goes under, but my first thought is that of Max and making sure he's okay.
Accidentally swallowing a portion of water, I emerge back up coughing and spluttering, the sounds of screams and shouting from people overhead.
Using my feet, I swim a little so that my feet can touch the shallow end of the pool before standing up with Max in my arms. When he wriggles about and starts licking my face, laughter erupts from my mouth causing all the shouts and screams asking if I'm okay to immediately halt. Eli, in lightning speed, is by the pool. He was no doubt concerned when he saw me fall in,but when he spots me laughing, so does he, causing everyone else to join in. Wilfred, obviously taking an opportunity, starts snapping photos, capturing the fun I'm having with an excitable Max in my arms.
"You're a little scamp, do you know that?" I giggle at Max as he apologizes with endless kisses on my face.
Sensing something is amiss in that moment, I glance up, noting that Eli is now nowhere to be seen. Sadness consumes me, my moment of joy halted by Eli's departure. I don't know how I'm going to fix this, but I will damn well try. As long as Eli is in this house, then tonight will be as good a start as any.