“Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” Meredith growls, throwing her hands up and walking to the doorway. Before she walks out, she stops to order curtly, “Just as long as you get her ready.”
McKayla and Brad burst into laughter when she leaves. “I bet you her Spanx just got a little tighter, so tight she’s about to burst out of it,” Brad says.
McKayla laughs. “She did look a little flustered.”
“Are you two always like this?” I’m forced to ask, shaking my head and giggling.
Brad looks at me like I’m crazy, doing a neck roll that I’m surprised doesn’t make his head pop off. “Are you serious? Girl, yes! It’s the only way we can do our job without dying of boredom. Not only will we get you camera-ready, but you’ll be loosened up and ready to kick ass.”
McKayla looks at me, gesturing toward the door. “All right, let’s get a move on. Come on, baby girl, we gotta get you ready before Cruella Deville has our tits for breakfast.”
Chuckling, I climb out of my seat and follow them several rooms over to what looks like a dressing room. Despite the constant back and forth, I like these two. Something tells me that they’ll be the breath of fresh air that I need.
Brad has me change into a pair of comfy shorts and a matching tank, explaining that I’ll be able to take them off for wardrobe without messing up their masterpiece. I’ve definitely never been called that before. I sit in the salon-style chair and try not to flinch as they swarm around me. Sparring and gossiping at the same time, McKayla and Brad go about getting me ready.
I never knew I needed so much work to look presentable, and I have to wonder what the producers really thought when they saw me for the first time. I get shaved, plucked, exfoliated, washed, dried, straightened, and curled, and then it feels like Brad paints three pounds of makeup on my face. “Why not use a power sprayer next time?”
Brad laughs. “Don’t tempt me. Now chin up!”
When they’re done, they stand back, appraising their work. I stare at myself in the mirror in awe, hardly recognizing the girl looking back at me. Big hair, big makeup, big change. I look so different, I’m not sure if I should be shouting for joy or crying.
McKayla, on the other hand, isn’t so impressed. “Why’d you pick that highlight?” she complains to Brad, peering at my face critically. “It’s too glittery. She looks like a Vegas showgirl.”
Brad twirls on McKayla like he’s about to pop her. “Girl, are you nuts? You’re looking at pure perfection right here!” he brags. He snaps his fingers, twirling his hips and sticking his bony ass out. “Honey, she’s glowing like an angel dusted her cheeks.” He looks at my hair, clucking his tongue. “Trying to talk bad about me, but what the hell is up with this Texas-sized bouffant on her head, huh? You could hide a family of rats up in there. Looks like a Tammy Faye bobble head!”
McKayla brandishes her curling iron in Brad’s face. “Bitch, now you’ve gone too far. Those big, juicy curls will bounce every time she moves.” She flips one of my curls and it bounces up and down for full effect. “You’re just jealous because you only wish your ass had this much bounce.”
Wow. I literally can’t with these two, and I don’t know if I should burst out laughing or cry. As they insult each other as if I’m not even there, my head ping-pongs between them, trying to decide which one is going to throw the first punch.
“I think you both did a good job,” I finally say, silencing them. They both pause, looking at me. “I love the makeup and the hair.” I’m not really sure if I love either, but if it will shut them up, I’ll live with both.
“See, I told you she liked my angel cheeks,” Brad boasts to McKayla, who rolls her eyes. “Jealous ho.”
“Difference is, I don’t need her opinion. I know my shit looks good.”
They square off toward each other, hips popped and bitch faces in full effect. At this point, I’m convinced blows are about to rain, or maybe an epic bitch-slap fight with nails and glitter exploding everywhere. Before either can ask me to hold their earrings, I start to slink away from my chair in a desperate bid to get some distance from the inevitable battle. Keeping an eye on their staredown battle, I see the switch in Brad a moment before he bursts out laughing. And just like that, the tension is gone as the two laugh at each other and do a little high-five, causing me to let out a relieved sigh.
McKayla snaps her fingers at me when they’re done. “All right, chickadee, let’s get you to wardrobe. Our work here is done. You look good, and you should be loose enough to deal with getting poked and prodded.”
I can’t help but let out an audible groan.
McKayla chuckles at my distress. “What? You don’t feel like Cinder-fucking-rella yet? Just look on the bright side. You’ll get to try on more clothes than you’ve ever dreamed of.”
Without another word, we’re hustling down the hallways.
Hayden
The hum of my Harley dies down as I slowly pull to a stop at the huge gate. I stare through the bars for a moment, spotting the looming mansion and beautiful manicured grounds. I don’t know what the fuck Jay’s gotten me into, but I hope it’ll be worth the trouble.
I lean forward and press a button on the callbox attached to a brick column near the gate. Shit, even that’s fancy. There’s no static at all, nothing but smooth silence before a voice answers, asking for my identity.
“Hayden Bishop.”
There’s no reply, but the gate sweeps open and I slowly pull up toward the house.
A young guy who looks like he’s only eighteen but is probably a bit older runs up and stops me. He’s clutching a clipboard in his hands, looking rushed. “Name?”
“Hayden,” I reply. “Hayden Bishop.”
He looks down at his clipboard and then marks me off the list, gesturing off to the side. “Park your bike over there.” The guy begins to turn away and then stops. “Oh, and make sure that when you head inside, turn left down the first hall, and then go into the den on the right.”
“Will do. Thanks.” I quickly park my bike away from the circular driveway and make my way inside. Opulence greets me as I step through the door. This place is one of those homes that is best described as ‘palatial’, but that only scratches the surface. I’ve done a shoot or two in places like this, but as I’m walking down the hall, I feel my heart thump in my chest.
Walking toward me are a curvy pink-haired pinup and a flamboyant blond man. But that’s not what’s caught my eye. It’s the gorgeous woman with full hair and makeup walking between them, her hips swaying with an unconscious seductiveness that bypasses all the layers of makeup that have been put on her. She’s all dolled up, but for some reason, she only has on a simple tank top and shorts. I can hardly take my eyes off her beautiful face to notice. She’s so stunning that it doesn’t matter what she’s wearing.
As they pass, she glances up and gives me the most perfectly sexy shy smile I’ve ever seen and my jaw drops. Jesus, what the fuck’s wrong with me? The last time a girl tripped me up that easily, I was a hormonal high school boy who didn’t know my dick from my emotions.