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KelseyisHerenow
I would totally do it. I love the idea of viewing myself through someone elses eyes. When Jazzys picking out their clothes and doing their hair and makeup, its like she sees this person, this light, that no one else does, and she brings it out in the guest. Makes it shine. I’d love to know what my light looks like. If that makes sense?
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Everly thought about replying—she currently had some very not-so-hypothetical experience with this topic—but it had been so long sinceshe’d last posted anything on the forums that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As much as she loved reading everyone’s messages, she wasn’t really a part of the community. Just a shadow looming on the periphery.
Instead, she let herself get sucked into a comprehensive ranking of every one of Jazzy’s outfits from season two until the elevator doors dinged open in front of her.
Putting her phone back in her bag, Everly used the ride up to the fifteenth floor to smooth the front of her black A-line dress. The fabric was jersey and practically Velcro. She hadn’t been near Becca’s cat, Cream Cheese, this morning, and yet she kept finding clusters of white fur everywhere.
She was picking at a third patch of it when the elevator stopped and she found herself face-to-face with Logan.
He was also taking advantage of the endless array of reflective surfaces in the building, scrubbing at the skin around his close-cut beard and wide brow like he was washing his face, though there was no water anywhere. “That’s what I get for coming in on my day off,” he muttered to no one. “Turned into a fucking art project.”
Everly snorted. She couldn’t help it. There was something almost boyish about how put out he looked that clashed with his beard and muscular arms.
Glancing up, he startled at the sight of her. “Oh. Everly.” The heel of his left palm still rubbed idly at his cheek. “What are you doing?”
“Riding the elevator? What areyoudoing?” It seemed like the more reasonable question.
His eyes narrowed, and his (not-at-all-unpleasant) facial features scrunched in confusion. They were both quiet for so long that the elevator doors closed again.
Everly’s laugh bounced off the walls. What was happening rightnow? Was this some kind of setup for the show? Was she being filmed? She peered into each corner of the ceiling to check for cameras, but there didn’t seem to be any. Logan hadn’t even been holding his.
She pressed the button to reopen the doors, and there he was again. Hoping to avoid another round of elevator peekaboo, Everly hurried forward into the office suite.
Now that she was closer, she could see why he’d been fussing with his face. Across his forehead, down the straight slope of his nose, and streaking his cheekbones were heavy layers of gold, glittery powder.
“Oh,” she said. “You’ve been Jazzy’ed.” Jazzy’s intense love affair with powdered highlighters was well known among the fandom.
His frown deepened into something more like a scowl. “I look like Rocky fromThe Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
“Wait. Does that mean she got you… other places as well?” Everly arched an eyebrow. Though she tried not to imagine him in a gold loincloth, she failed in spectacular fashion. He probably had fantastic thighs—thick like his arms. Muscular. Delicious.
Not a hint of humor marred his stony expression. “I ran before she could start painting my beard.” He caught her amused gaze and added a surly “… or anything else.” As he talked, he resumed wiping at the glitter, this time with his knuckles. All he managed to do was smear it into his hairline.
For someone who’d never really been interested in having kids, Everly had a deep maternal streak, and it set in before she could consider what she was doing.
Popping open her large leather tote, she started rummaging. It was stocked with all the essentials: makeup, granola bars, pens and paper, candy for emergency stress eating, toothbrushes and toothpaste, extra underwear, a flashlight, menstrual products, condoms, and a pharmacy of over-the-counter drugs. There was no crisis that couldn’t be handledby something in her bag. She’d be a dream to be stranded with on a desert island. It would be more like a vacation.
She unearthed a travel pack of face wipes and offered them to Logan. “Makeup remover.”
He took one gingerly, like the cloth was soaked in venom, and dragged the whole thing across his face with the palm of his hand, like a little kid trying to wash up by himself for the first time. It was adorable.
And entirely ineffective.
After a few more rotations, he pulled it back and glanced expectantly at Everly. Most of the powder from his nose and cheeks was gone, but thick clumps clung to his sideburns and the edges of his beard.
She considered pointing them out, then thought better of it. Quite frankly, this man needed a little levity in his life. Maybe resembling an Oscar award for a while would do him some good. “Can you point me to Sady’s office?” she asked. “We’re supposed to have a meeting.”
Logan dragged his glittery palm down the hem of his maroon-and-gray plaid shirt. Apparently, flannel was his look. “Head straight back. It’s the biggest one. Tell her I’ll be there in a second.”
With a grunt Everly chose to interpret as a goodbye, he disappeared in the opposite direction.
Everly removed a few more cat hairs from her dress to distract herself as she wandered toward the back of the suite. The production company’s office seemed to take up the whole floor, and the entire exterior wall was windows, tinted a hazy blue to keep the sun’s brightness at bay. The rays moved like ocean waves across the tightly piled carpeting. A number of the cubicles Everly passed were empty but she could hear soft voices and the sounds of typing drifting toward her from farther down the hall.
