Why couldn’t I have a dressing room within the studio?
“Excuse me!” I banged my fist for the second time before the door shot open outwards, nearly catching me in the face. “A little care would be appreciated!”
“Charlotte Baxterly.” The woman in front of me smirked. As I looked up, any anger I felt melted at the sight of my good friend Cassandra, make-up artist extraordinaire. “I was expecting you an hour or so ago. Fashionably late as always.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Cassandra and I went back years and I meanyears.She’s been the woman who had created a miracle and made me look like I’d had a good eight hours sleep and hydrated perfectly when in reality, I lived on caffeine and had only three hours of sleep.
I was just starting out on the early morning news when our paths crossed. I struggled like hell with my time keeping and it had ended up with Cassandra normally standing in the car park with her brush and highlighter in one hand, a make-up belt around her waist and a takeaway cup of my favorite latté with a shot and a half of hazelnut syrup in her other hand. I could tell with one glance if the barista had disregarded my instructions and gone for either the one pump or two pumps and therefore, ruining the perfect balance I enjoyed so much. Cassandra worked as we walked often and the two hour set-up that it should’ve taken us, we’d cut down to a mere forty-five minutes. She was a lifesaver.
“What? Me? Never,” I mocked. I walked up the couple of steps and straight into the outstretched arms of Cassandra as she air-kissed my cheek. “This show paidmeenough to be here on time.” I chuckled as I noticed the run-down shack the team had decided to put me in. “This isn’t on.” I waved my hands around at the half-broken stand holding my labeled outfits and the heater that was plugged into the wall. No chance of me freezing to death. “This isn’t even suitable for the understudies. Cass, can you get hold of the stage team or someone who can come and deal with this now?” I asked.
“Of course I can.” She smiled back at me and grabbed her phone, sending a quick text message out. Her phone pinged back nearly immediately with a response. “It looks like Mr. Lumsden has already sorted it.” She glanced up at me. “Lotte, what did you do?”
I smirked and shrugged my shoulders before I picked up my bag I had placed down on the dressing table.
“Nothing. Why do you always assume the worst of me?” I asked nonchalantly. “We just met on our travels.”
“Of course you did. You forget. I’ve always had your back. Watch yourself here.”
“And while I appreciate the warning, let’s not forget that I’ve been doing this business long enough to know that I have to be wary of people,” I snarked back at her with a snap. “I don’t tell you how to do your job so I’d appreciate the same respect in return. Unless you want a quick window to get your job done for this series, we had better get a shift on,” I uttered before heading for the door.
“Let the walls down a bit, Lotte. You don’t want to push everyone away,” Cassandra whispered before she grabbed a few essential make-up items off the table and threw them in her case. “I’m ready. Wardrobe and hair will meet us soon. Let’s go to studio dressing room one.”
I made my way towards the entrance of the studios and headed to the dressing rooms with Cassandra only needing to take the lead once when I decided that the rooms had to be on the right but actually, our show was allocated on the left. I quickly scowled, hoping that no one noticed my error and continued until I found the right room. The last thing I needed was my leading man spotting me looking like a hot mess when I needed to be the cool ice queen around him. This show was going to catapult me higher than I already was in the showbiz world. I’d already beaten some well-renowned names for this role in the hospital drama and I couldn’t risk being recast. I wouldn’t cope with the humiliation of it.
It’s sometimes easier to become the latest gossip for the entertainment magazines for having a failing career as it was to be a thriving somebody on the front page. The last thing anyone needed was some reporter to delve into someone’s past; especially mine, what with all my skeletons. I’d done well to keep them out of the papers but it only took one payout and one person to blab and my past could crash head-on with my present. I straightened my back and shoulders and made a mental note to protect myself at all costs.
I took the next corner and glanced at the doors before I came to a standstill. There my name shone out on the chalkboard, written in a beautiful cursive handwritten scrawl with a pink tone. That’s exactly what it should look like. Professional and to the point.
I wanted to trail my matching, colored nails along the lines but I quickly remembered that I wasn’t alone. I opened the door to be greeted with the dressing room I deserved. My eyes went straight to the pale pink flowers, noticing the odd white one placed on the table in a vase next to a couple envelopes of fan mail. The gorgeous make-up table had spotlights with trailing flowers along the edge in the corner and the light decor of the room was in a barely noticeable pink with a silver sheen. It made the room look gorgeous. I even had a walk-in wardrobe. It was a new tick to add to my checklists of firsts in the acting world. Mr. Lumsden had outdone himself.
“Cass, let’s get set up.” I grabbed the pile of fan mail and brought it over to the stool before taking a seat. “I think this will be a perfect base for us.”
“I agree,” Cassandra said as she began to unpack and place all her equipment out in front of her. “Let’s go. Au natural first, Lotte.”
I nodded as I reached for my schedule and script for the day from my bag. I checked which scenes I would be in first and placed them down next to the fan mail.
“Absolutely perfect. According to the schedule, we don’t need to change it up until later on,” I confirmed. I looked at the range of colors Cassandra had gotten out to use and the vintage lipstick shade that was glaring at me. “Although, I think we should use a slightly darker tone for my lips. I don’t like this shade.”
“This would be perfect, though,” Cass started but I just widened my eyes at her and waited. “It’s not what I’d suggest,” she said, attempting to reason with me. “It would look different under the glare of the spotlights.”
“I just mean a shade lighter or darker,” I demanded in a firm tone.Rose Petals.“I mean it, I won’t wear this shade. Ever.”
“Can I ask why?”
“No,” I snapped. I remembered the vivid excitement from when my mother bought the lipstick shade for me one birthday. It was the vintage color I’d seen on my favorite actress at the time and I had pleaded with my mom for months, as I was desperate to match her. It was a timeless classic color but the moment I applied it, my mother had decided that it didn’t suit me and that instead, it would look better on her complexion.
I swore I’d never wear the color again.
“Okay. I’ll change it. Hair will be here soon and I need to get you ready.”
I opened the first letter in the pile as Cass started to work around me. She began to secure the wispy strands of hair shadowing onto my cheeks so they didn’t become caked in make-up against my skin. I began to smile as I read the note of support and congratulations on the landing of my new role. This is what I loved; the excitement of the people who loved the shows and how I’d inspired them. Me. It felt good that I’d inspired them to reach for their goals.
“Can you turn to the left?” Cass asked as I placed the letter down and grabbed the next in the pile. The highlighting powder she used covered my cheekbones perfectly with a light sheen. I opened the blue envelope and began to pull out the sheets of folded papers, unfolding them until they were flat.
“Lotte?” Cass stopped and turned me to face her. “What’s that?”
I looked at the letter, dropping it into my lap before I answered. “What’s that?”