through her hair, and the sensation brought goose bumps to the surface of her skin. She sighed and listened to the flurry of activity coming from the living room. The air was thick with excitement and hairspray.
“Ugh,” said a sharp female voice. “That sofa’s hideous. We’ll need a solid neutral drape. Have three chairs brought in from the kitchen and cover them in the same fabric.” The sound of clicking heels approached. “Tell the lighting crew to set up in the corner and crank up the air conditioner. This tiny dump will get hot fast.”
Dump? Cara’s eyelids flew open, and she scanned the room for the source of the voice. Sure, the sofa was hideous and her house was small, but it wasn’t a dump.
“Seat Bill Sweeney on the outside,” said a woman with chin-length, platinum blond hair. She wore a C -emblazoned pink suit and had an annoyingly exquisite face. “He’s a total dud.”
“Hey!” Cara protested from her seat at the kitchen table. Strangers couldn’t insult her dad. Only she could insult her dad.
“And the mother—head shots only,” the woman said to her assistant. “She’s a chunky little thing.”
“I’m right here, you know.” Was this lady missing her internal filter? Maybe she thought beautiful people didn’t need one. Feeling a full-scale firestorm brewing, Cara held her breath and counted to twenty.
“I see that.” The woman picked a piece of lint from her shoulder. “Sharon Taylor. I’m interviewing you tonight.” Pursing her red lips, she made a “shoo fly” motion with one hand. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Yeah.”
Sharon shook her head. “Auburn hair and pallid skin—the worst combination. Don’t wear pink, sweetie. Redheads can’t pull it off.” Then she clucked her tongue in sympathy.
Screw twenty. Cara counted to a hundred. In Spanish.
“How about a nice kelly green top?”
“Don’t have one,” Cara lied, deciding to wear pink tonight out of spite.
“Oh, well.” Sharon waved her fingers at the makeup artist. “Play up her eyes. She’s got great eyes, at least.”
When Aelyx entered the kitchen, Sharon froze in place. “Sweet baby Jesus! You’re going to make my job so easy.” She sashayed over to him and cocked her head to the side, appraising his face. “Very nice features,” she said, talking to herself. “Strong jaw, full mouth. Excellent wardrobe choice. You’re breathtaking.”
No kidding. Aelyx had cleaned up nicely since Cara had seen him in the hall. The fitted ivory shirt he’d chosen highlighted his bronze skin while clinging to the contours of his chest, and he’d smoothed his long brown hair to perfection and secured it at the nape of his neck with a leather cord.
But then Sharon scowled. “What’s with the face? You look like a cyborg.”
Aelyx walked to the sink and filled a glass with water. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know, a robot. You’ve got no sentiment, no spark. Can you try to look a little animated?” She gripped her waist with one well-manicured hand.
Aelyx stared at her while Cara’s cheeks burned hot enough to fry eggs.
“If you’re so advanced, then you can manage to look alive. That empty stare’s disturbing, and it’s not going to help you fit—”
“Stop!” Cara stood from her chair. Unfortunately, the stylist still held a lock of her hair, sending her head snapping back. She rubbed her throbbing scalp and glared at Sharon. “There’s nothing wrong with his face.”
Sharon froze for a few seconds and brought her hands together in prayer. “I just had an epiphany. Cut the parents. They’re boring.” She pointed back and forth between Aelyx and Cara. “ This is what people want to see.” Smiling and nodding like a dashboard bobblehead, she added, “Friendship, maybe more?”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Friendship, period.” She stalked into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Her stylist followed and shellacked one last section of hair in
“Ugh,” said a sharp female voice. “That sofa’s hideous. We’ll need a solid neutral drape. Have three chairs brought in from the kitchen and cover them in the same fabric.” The sound of clicking heels approached. “Tell the lighting crew to set up in the corner and crank up the air conditioner. This tiny dump will get hot fast.”
Dump? Cara’s eyelids flew open, and she scanned the room for the source of the voice. Sure, the sofa was hideous and her house was small, but it wasn’t a dump.
“Seat Bill Sweeney on the outside,” said a woman with chin-length, platinum blond hair. She wore a C -emblazoned pink suit and had an annoyingly exquisite face. “He’s a total dud.”
“Hey!” Cara protested from her seat at the kitchen table. Strangers couldn’t insult her dad. Only she could insult her dad.
“And the mother—head shots only,” the woman said to her assistant. “She’s a chunky little thing.”
“I’m right here, you know.” Was this lady missing her internal filter? Maybe she thought beautiful people didn’t need one. Feeling a full-scale firestorm brewing, Cara held her breath and counted to twenty.
“I see that.” The woman picked a piece of lint from her shoulder. “Sharon Taylor. I’m interviewing you tonight.” Pursing her red lips, she made a “shoo fly” motion with one hand. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Yeah.”
Sharon shook her head. “Auburn hair and pallid skin—the worst combination. Don’t wear pink, sweetie. Redheads can’t pull it off.” Then she clucked her tongue in sympathy.
Screw twenty. Cara counted to a hundred. In Spanish.
“How about a nice kelly green top?”
“Don’t have one,” Cara lied, deciding to wear pink tonight out of spite.
“Oh, well.” Sharon waved her fingers at the makeup artist. “Play up her eyes. She’s got great eyes, at least.”
When Aelyx entered the kitchen, Sharon froze in place. “Sweet baby Jesus! You’re going to make my job so easy.” She sashayed over to him and cocked her head to the side, appraising his face. “Very nice features,” she said, talking to herself. “Strong jaw, full mouth. Excellent wardrobe choice. You’re breathtaking.”
No kidding. Aelyx had cleaned up nicely since Cara had seen him in the hall. The fitted ivory shirt he’d chosen highlighted his bronze skin while clinging to the contours of his chest, and he’d smoothed his long brown hair to perfection and secured it at the nape of his neck with a leather cord.
But then Sharon scowled. “What’s with the face? You look like a cyborg.”
Aelyx walked to the sink and filled a glass with water. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know, a robot. You’ve got no sentiment, no spark. Can you try to look a little animated?” She gripped her waist with one well-manicured hand.
Aelyx stared at her while Cara’s cheeks burned hot enough to fry eggs.
“If you’re so advanced, then you can manage to look alive. That empty stare’s disturbing, and it’s not going to help you fit—”
“Stop!” Cara stood from her chair. Unfortunately, the stylist still held a lock of her hair, sending her head snapping back. She rubbed her throbbing scalp and glared at Sharon. “There’s nothing wrong with his face.”
Sharon froze for a few seconds and brought her hands together in prayer. “I just had an epiphany. Cut the parents. They’re boring.” She pointed back and forth between Aelyx and Cara. “ This is what people want to see.” Smiling and nodding like a dashboard bobblehead, she added, “Friendship, maybe more?”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Friendship, period.” She stalked into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Her stylist followed and shellacked one last section of hair in
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