Please vote and comment!
I have a question for you guys. I'm debating whether to enter as the best cover or as the best title for the Special Awards category in the Watty Awards. I'm kind of a lost case when it comes to choosing so do you guys think you could leave me a message telling me if I should enter in the title or cover tier?
Also, check out my collection of poems for the Attys! 5000 Syllables Of Love :)
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It was ten o'clock, Garrett and Mira were yelling, my room was a mess, and I wasn't done packing. With a stressed sigh, I looked at my suitcase that was filled to the brim with fancy dresses, heels, and casual skirts and shirts, wondering if I should bother taking everything out just to see if I put my hairbrush in. After all, if I was going to be spending my time on television, wouldn't the makeup artists have plenty of brushes?
I sat back on my heels observing my messy bed and the pile of clothes that had been rejected by Toben who had come in earlier and sorted out all of my acceptable outfits; looking at the pretty big load, my fashion obviously was not good enough for him. My eyes drifted over the memories that had been stored in this room: the corner of the nightstand that I often stubbed my toe on, the array of pillows that lay on the red couch, never used because I was always afraid of getting them dirty. God, there were a lot of remembrances in this suite, all of which I was going to be leaving behind.
This moment reminded me of four months ago, back when I had been in the exact same situation, getting uprooted again and going on another adventure, except this time I knew what to expect and it was making me more nervous.
What if we didn't win?
I looked down at my phone, still warm from me holding it to me ear during my long conversation with my mother, tracing the small scratch on the purple case. She was not able to take me to the airport today because she had a job interview so I spent most of my morning listening to her comforting prep talk, enjoying and missing her presence. The confidence in her voice when she said I had the ability to take home the trophy warmed my heart and made me feel as if we could do it, even though I had occasional moments of what ifs.
"Kirsten?" Garrett yelled from below, his voice echoing, sounding tired and tinted with anger. "You ready yet?"
Groaning as I slowly lifted the weight off my toes and onto my legs, I zipped up my bag, shoving my hairbursh dilemma to the side and opened the door to the hallway, pushing my suitcase behind as I shut my bedroom door, sparing my room one last glance. Then I took a deep breath, which was hard considering the tightness of my white button up shirt, and headed down the stairs, careful not to chip the wood with my bag's wheels.
"I'm here." I replied a second later to Garrett's question as I pulled my way down the last flight of stairs to a main foyer where at least a dozen people milled around. Most were familiar: Yivanni, Mr. Bianchi and his gruff countenance, Angela and Alonzo, a couple of workers, a red-nosed Harrison, and Mira, sadly. Garrett nodded at me briefly before turning back to his company, the said model.
Allowing the butler to take my suitcase, my eyes landed on Mira's appearance and my confidence dropped. She stood haughtily, dressed in a form fitting dark blue blazer that looked like it was cut right for her, with a low cut sparkly white tank top underneath. Her slender, tan legs were bare beneath a pair of white denim shorts, accentuated by gold, strappy high heels.
In comparison, my white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows and my simple black skirt clasped ot my stomack with a blue belt looked drab. And probably costed a lot less. With a sigh, I realized that I wasn't jealous of the fact that she was with Garrett, thank God, but because standing next to her, I always felt inferior, as if I didn't deserve to be in the same room as she was.
Angela, who stood in close proximity to Mira caught my eye and waved with a friendly smile on her face and I returend it before walking away, heading over to where Harrison was holding a squirming Simbah, grinning as Harrison tried to get my dog to stop licking his cheek.
"Thanks for coming Harrison." I said, looking up at him happily as I took Simbah from his arms, giggling as I received a slobbery kiss. From the Scotty of course.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Came Harrison's reply as he slung an arm across my shoulders. "You look beautiful today."
I blushed at his compliment, ducking my head so he wouldn't see my rosy cheeks.
"Aw, is Kirsten embarrassed?" Harrison teased, brushing away one of my locks of hair and pushing it behing my back.
When I didn't answer, his eyes got serious and he said, "well you shouldn't be."
At that moment, Simbah wiggled out of my arms, hopping down to the granite floor with ease before weaving between numerous pairs of legs, giving me a distraction from Harrison.
"Shit, that stupid dog." I muttered, turning quickly and attempting to chase after the ball of fur that had disappeared behind a group of people, Harrison following closely behind me, his warm hand sliding into mine. Sadly, I wasn't nearly adept at sidling between individuals as my dog seemed to be, especially with Harrison walking right behind, but I found him a couple seconds later, much to my relief and horror.
There Simbah sat, barking wildly at Mira as she screamed and scurried behind Garrett's form, trotting around Garrett's legs to follow the model as Mira raced away futilely in her skyhigh heels. Then when she was finally still, unable to move anywhere except closer to the corner where she was trapped, Simbah lifted his leg, right over Mira's trembling heeled foot. And peed. My hand fell from Harrison's as I stood there shocked.
It was almost like everything went in slow motion. I saw his pee hit her shiny gold shoe, each complimenting the same shade of yellow, and soak through her pantyhose, hearing so clearly as Mira screamed bloody murder and loudly curse my dog, only to be shut up when Simbah landed another load on her other shoe, her eyes growing wide and her mouth open and sputtering in absolute shock.
Mira stood there in shame, her entire frame trembling uncontrollably, standing in a puddle of my dog's pee with her feet probably soaking. For a second she just stood there but then she screamed loudly at the top of her voice, "GARRETT!!"
Garrett appeared behind me, slowly approaching her, and with a sob, Mira lurched towards him only to forget that my dog was right below her feet. One of her shoes caught his small frame and she went toppling forward, shrieking as she hit the granite floor, her hands flailing in the air dramatically.
Her blazer was wrinkled and her white tanktop looked slightly stained with something yellow and I didn't even want to describe the state of her shoes and pantyhose. Suddenly, I didn't feel as if I looked shabby compared to her as I did only a minute ago.
Beside me, Garrett stilled and suddenly, he began shaking. I looked up, concerned at his movement, only to see him try to supress a humourous laugh and a wicked smile. I was torn. I didn't know whether to feel mortified, gleeful, or sorry because all I could do was stare as Mira slowly stood up with a humiliated look on her face and Simbah barked happily, waving his tail and trotting over to me.
"I told you I wouldn't have missed this for the world." Harrison whispered into my ear, his hand finding mine again as he started to chuckle softly.
And that was it, I couldn't help but start giggling hysterically, ignorant of Mira's death stare and the looks of the others around me as Garrett, Angela, and Harrison joined me in my mirth.
Needless to say, Mira was pissed. Pun intended.
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Thanks to Simba, the only people to get in the limo were Angela, Alonzo, Mr. Bianchi, Garrett, Harrison, and I, Mira thankfully absent because of the little incident earlier. The atmosphere had lifted slightly and to my surprise, Mr. Bianchi would occasionally chuckle, shaking his head as he sipped his brandy and looked out the window.
But for Garrett and Harrison, the moment of comrade ship between the two after what happed to Mira, was lost.
"You're going to get Kirsten sick." Garrett muttered angrily, tapping his finger on the seatrest.
"And possibly you so why are you so concerned about Kirsten?" Harrison shot back, giving Garrett a glare of his own.
"Of course I'm worried! She's my sous!"
"Yeah, and she's my girlfriend so back off."
The look on Garrett's face, mixture of surprise and something else caught me off guard and I realized that he didn't that Harrison and I were dating.
"Okay guys... let's break it up now?" I asked softly, squeezing Harrison's hand gently and giving Garrett a small smile hoping to subdue them both.
Silence was my answer.
We arrived at the Denver International Airport in less than twenty minutes and immediately I wished that it had taken longer the second Garrett muttered, "you can't come in Harrison." when Harrison tried to unbuckle his seatbelt.
"Yeah? And why's that?" Harrison replied, raising an eyebrow at Harrett.
"I can't go in either boy." Mr. Bianchi muttered gruffly. "Don't take it personally. Only the people with the ids and tickets can go into the gate for the personal jet."
Harrison relaxed a bit and turned to me, giving me a small smile. "I guess this is good bye then."
I shook my head furiously, burying my face into his warm shoulder and inhaling his comforting scent. "It's not goodbye Harrison. I'll be back for Christmas."
He nodded before hugging me tightly to his chest and stroking my hair. When he released me, he stared straight into my eyes and planted a soft kiss on my forehead and muttered quietly. "You can do it Kirsten. Go out there and beat everyone up, okay?"
I nodded and unclipped my seatbelt, slowly getting out of the limo but stilling when Harrions said one last thing. "Remember Kirsten. You're beautiful."
Then, with a brief nod, he reached over and tugged the door close, giving me one more smile before he completely disappeared behind the tinted window, leaving me with my suitcase and my fellow team members.
Here we go.
The jet was huge, with nice, plush seats (much needed leg room included), minirefrigerators, and several plasma televisions. It was so big that I glared at Garrett when he said, "you're in my seat."
"Are you kidding me?" I asked with a roll of my eyes. "They're like twenty billion seats in here. Can't you choose another one?"
"Yeah but they're all window seats." He replied gruffly, prodding me with his toe.
"And what's wrong with window seats?"
"Nothing. So go sit in one." Garrett growled impatiently, sending me a death glare as Angela snickered across the jet."
"Don't tell me." I muttered gleefully. "You're afraid of heights!"
"Kirsten..." Garrett warned.
"First bumblebees and now heights?"
"Thats not the reason why." He refused to meet my stare his stance becoming uncomfortable as he loomed over me.
"Then what is?"
"Kirsten..."
I glared up defiantly, secretly enjoying myself. I had no problem switching seats with him; I just wanted to figure out what had him so freaked out. "I'm not moving till your telling."
He glared and me but with a huff he muttered. "Imafraidoftheclouds."
"What was that? I couldn't hear you correctly."
"I'm afriad of the goddamned clouds! Now move your ass over there!" Garrett shouted, causing a young flight attendant to raise her eyebrow and head over to us with a fake smile on her face.
"Okay, okay." I surrendered, putting my hands up in the air for a second before grabbing my stuff and scootching over to the seat with the view of the ground.
"What's wrong with clouds?" I asked, ignoring the stewardess that flashed Garrett a bright smile.
"They remind me of whipped cream."
I snorted, falling onto the heavenly soft cushions and looking at Garrett as he situated his stuff. "You, you have suddenly become less manly."
"Ha! That's far from the truth Kirsten. I'm as manly as humably possible."
"I know quite a few guys that are just as attractive and aren't afraid of clouds and bees."
"Like Harrison?" Came Garrett's reply and immediately I shut my mouth.
"Tell me why you're afraid of whipped cream." I muttered slowly after a couple of seconds, trying to steer the conversation back to its former topic.
With a sigh, Garrett rolled his eyes and took off his sweater. "You're just so damn persistent. Fine, I'll tell you but don't laugh. It was back in high school and me and a couple of guys were just horsing around when one of them pulled out a bottle of whipped cream. Have you ever heard of the cinammon challenge?"
I nodded. "Where you have to eat a tablespoon of cinammon?"
"That's right. Except this time it was a whole bottle of whipped cream. So me being the cocky guy, I decided to squirt an entire bottle into my mouth. You know, just to show off and all. Well I managed to swallow all of it but an entire bottle of whipped cream is enough to upset anyone's digestive system with all that oil and cream so then I threw up. My mouth tasted like sour milk for an entire week."
"So what if one of the necessary ingredients is whipped cream? Are you unable to handle a little fluff?" I teased, cocking an eyebrow as Garrett scowled at me.
"Of course I can handle it. But when we're ten thousand feet in the air, looking down and seeing the clouds makes me want to puke."
Picking up my bag, I muttered, "okay, in that case, I think I'm going to another seat so I won't get puke all over me."
Before I could walk a step, Garrett grasped my hand lightly making me pause and look down at him, a sense of deja vu hitting me suddenly. This was his favorite thing to do with me wasn't it? Grasp my hands and look at me with a puppy dog look on his face, knowing well enough that I would stop and fall for his whims and charms.
"What?" I asked abruptly, trying to wiggle my hand out of his grasp.
"I promise I won't throw up. Sit back down again, please?"
Looking into his dark grey eyes, I felt myself succumb just like many times before.
"So you and Harrison." Garrett said once I sat back down in my seat, his voice light though a bit strained.
I stiffened then paused before saying, "yeah, me and him."
Garrett nodded slowly as the captain spoke over the speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbuckles and remain seated until your flight attendant allows you to do otherwise. I'll be your pilot for today flight. Thank you for choosing Frontier and we hope you have a safe journey."
"I hope it works out for you guys." Garrett muttered stiffly once the jet began moving down the runway.
"That didn't sound too sincere." I remarked, gripping my seatrest as we began to pick up speed.
Garrett looked over at me with a sad expression on his face. "Yeah? Well it was meant to be sincere."
"Why do you care so much?" I asked as I felt the jet lift into the air with a soft roar.
"Isn't it obvious Kirsten?" Garrett whispered his voice almost lost over the din. "It's because... because you're my sous chef."
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We landed at the LAX airport around two when the sun was high in the air, toasting me when I stepped onto the black pavement. Everywhere, there were people shouting , cars were honking their horns, and flashy billboards were already in sight. The landscape, mainly big buildings and palm trees, coupled with the heat hit me hard as I realized that California was nothing like Colorado. I managed to look around for a second, my former grogginess gone, before Garrett pushed me into the waiting limosine, followed shortly by Angela and Alonzo.
"What were you doing Kirsten?" Garrett hissed softly as we headed down the street. "There's paparazzi everywhere."
"I'm sorry." I said, peering out the window and finally noticing the people milling around with cameras, shouting questions and waving their arms to gain our attention. "It's just so cool."
He snorted but Angela nodded her head, her blond curls flying into the air. "Isn't it awesome? I'm superexcited."
Garrett's face soften a little as he looked outside at the blurred images. "I guess Cali's pretty awesome."
I watched the numerous buildings, drinking in the sight of the blue sky and greenery so uncommon during the wintertime in Colorado. Slowly, the scenery began to change as we headed to the outskirts of Los Angeles.
"Where are we going to right?" I asked, turing to Garrett and Alonzo who were both looking down at their smartphones.
Angela answered me while glaring at her distracted boyfriend who looked like he was playing a game on the screen. "We have a photoshoot to go to right now."
My blood ran cold. Garrett never mentioned a photoshoot or anything of the likes of it, just a meeting with the producers of ICAF and an interview.
"What?"
Angela rolled her eyes, poking Garrett's arm as he valiantly fought off the green pigs. "You didn't tell Kirsten about the photoshoot?"
He briefly looked up from his phone, glancing at me before returning his attention elsewhere. "Yep. It's going to be our photos for the section International Cooking is running on ICAF. And our images that their running for the ICAF commercial. No big deal."
No big deal? What the hell was Garrett sprouting? This was a huge deal to me. After all, being a small country girl for my entire life, I never got the chance to have a photoshoot not to mention shooting a commercial. Suddenly, my excitement was hyped up by a thousand times.
We arrived in front of a looming white building with the words Lavish Studios scrawled over a silver sign around ten minutes later, coming to a smooth stop right in front of the silver double doors that were wide open, waiting for us. Garrett was the first one out of the car followed by me, skaing with excitement and nerves.
"Calm down Kirsten. Gosh." Garrett muttered out of the corner of his mouth as the air conditioning hit us and the receptionist stood up with a chirpy expression on her face.
"Welcome to Lavish Studios! You must be team America! Lauren's just finishing up with the Australians so if you could take a seat over there, that would be wonderful!"
"Austrailians?" I asked, smoothing down my skirt nervously.
Garrett looked over at me. "She means the Australian team for ICAF. Everyone's getting their photos and videos done here."
I nodded, signfying that I understood before I sat down and admired the lobby. The walls were solid white littered with pictures and portraits of previous works that this 'Lauren' must of done. An image of Taylor Swift in one of her old albums hung proudly from the wall, a signature scrawled across the bottom, while several magazine leaflets, ranging from Vogue to Elle, were framed around the room.
"Lauren's a freelancer now but she used to work for Vogue America, W, and Elle back in the days." The receptionist informed me, noting my awed expression. "Rather talented I must say. Can make a rag look stylish in a picture."
Just then four men headed out of one the sidedoors, laughing loudly as they patted each others' backs. "Mate, that was so cool. When I signed up for cooking, I wasn't expecting this!" One blond guy crowed, an infectious smile on his tanned face.
"Hey dude, that was awesome."
They stopped in front of the receptionist's desk and I could see with a small smile that she falling over her face to please the rather attractive group, a blush creeping up her face as she thanked them for coming in. Before they left though, one of them turned to us and his eyes widened when he saw Garrett, with his normal stormy expression on his face, sitting next to me.
"Hey mate, you must be the American Team, right? Garrett Bianchi? Austin Simpson my name."
Garrett smiled, standing up and shaking the other man's hand as the rest of the group shuffled over, exchanging pleasantaries.
"Damn dude, I'm so excited for this! I guess we'll be seeing you later tonight at the interview, right?"
"Yeah bro! This is like an adventure!" Another crowed.
From the same door they exited, a petite blonde women entered the lobby, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing on our little group. She stood at about five feet but her posture was ram rod straight and confident as she yelled, "I need Team America now!"
We untangled ourselves from the Australians who shouted well wishes before infront of the small woman. "You guys Garrett, Kirsten, Alonzo, and Angela?" She asked coolly, assessing each of us with her blue eyes. When we nodded, she silently went back through the door and we followed her down a dimly lit hallway.
When we reached the end, the room expanded and it was evident that it was we were now in the makeup room. There were a dozen lit mirrors on small tables filled with lip gloss, foundation, eyeliner, and eyeshadow and well as an assortment of hair product.
"I'm Lauren, your photographer for today's shoot. I'm going to need y'all to follow your makeup artist's orders and I'll meet you guys in an hour. Sound good?" The presumed Lauren said, locking eyes with each of us. Even though she was the shortest of us all, I felt rather small compared to her confident disposition.
"Pierre? I want you to fix up this brunette girl over here. I want the works: smoky eyeshadow, red lipstick, you know where I'm going with this right?" Lauren barked, tugging me to one of the stools.
Instinctively, I looked around to see a grumpy, fat Frenchman waving his spatula at me, but instead, a skinny bald guy with a tribal tattoo on his left arm smiled at me and came over to where I was. Even though it wasn't on purpose, his presence made me miss L'amore a bit more.
"Hi there! I'm Pierre and I'll be your makeup aritst for the day. You're Kirsten, right?"
I nodded, gripping the sidearms of the chair as he assessed my facial structure and skin tone. After a couple of seconds, he nodded slowly and grabbed certain supplies from the table. "Okay so you probably do your makeup yourself but you're going to have to trust me. I promise I won't poke an eye out and I promise to make you look fabulous, okay?"
I nodded again and he chuckled, shaking his head as he muttered, "you're a quiet one."
The whole makeup process was quite tedious. First, I had to change into my outfit for the shoot which consisted of a tight, sleeveless, American flag dress that was decorated with random stripes and stars but was mainly white with blue silloettes and a simple silver necklace. Pierre then probably spent ten minutes on my foundation, smoothing heavy cream over my face before applying the small details. He curled my eyelashes, layered my lips with a coat of bright red lipstick that matched my dress, dusted some blush over my cheeks, and applied a dark grey eyeliner and eyeshadow to my eyelids.
Then, I was forced to spin around and look at myself in the mirror, and when I did, I was shocked. My face looked flawless, my lips puckered just a bit with a hint of shine from the lipstick, and the blue of my eyess stood out from under my dramatic, grey eyeshadow.
"You like it, cherie?" Pierre asked as he started to brush my hair out.
I smiled and muttered yes and his laugh filled the room. "At least that's an improvement from the nods."
A while later, my hair had been twisted into a sleek ponytail and I was done, gingerly trying to step down from the stool without breaking an ankle. Pierre helped me and I tottered over to where Angela was waiting. Angela had been giving an au natural look with pale pink lip gloss that glistened in the mirror lights, silvery eyeshadow that was barely visible in contrast to her skin color, and a red chiffon dress that landed mid thigh. Her hair had been let loose, a couple curly blond tendrils creeping down the front of her low cut dress.
"Damn girl, you're looking fine." Angela drawled in a teasing voice, hooking her arm around mine. "Garrett won't be able to take his eyes off of you."
I winced. "That's what I'm not going for."
Angela scoffed and patted my arm as we exited the makeup room and headed to where the set was being put up. Two figures stood off to the side, Garrett and Alonzo. They turned at the sound of our heels clicking against the granite floor and I smiled shyly when Garrett's eyes eyes widened.
He was dressed in a simple white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows underneath a dark blue vest with a pair of black dress pants and black polished shoes. Alonzo was in a red sweater with a white tie and blue dress pants. Both of them has slicked back hair though Garrett's was messier than Alonzo's.
"Hey hunk." Angela said with a wink.
Garrett crowed back in a high pitched voice, "hey babe!"
"Shut up asshole." Alonzo muttered, slinging his arm around Angela's waist and planting a kiss on her lips.
"Careful!" Lauren shouted. "You can't screw up the makeup damnit!"
"Oops." Alozno whispered as Pierre came hurrying over with a stick of pink lipgloss.
After everything was ready, my hair resprayed, Angela's makeup fixed, Lauren directed us to the set. It was rather simple, just a white backround with faint stars and red striped inked on it but there was an array of kitchen items set to the side in the props area, knifes included.
Here we go. I thought for the second time as I stepped onto the set.
Hopefully Angela won't drive a metal scewer through anyone's stomach.
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This originally was going to include the photoshoot and the interview but then I realized it took up way too many transitions so I cut it off here... please VOTE!! And answer my question: cover or title for the Special Awards?