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He glanced at me before returning his gaze to my nails. “You’re asking because I don’t look the part, right?”
“Well, not that you have to look a certain way.”
“But most makeup artists don’t look like they work in a garage, or like they’ve just been released from prison, or whatever.” He glanced at me again and added, “For the record, I haven’t been to jail. But I know how I come across.”
“I like the fact that you break the stereotypes.”
He grinned as he started on another nail. “Way to put a positive spin on it.”
I grinned too and said, “I try. So, what got you into this career?”
“A friend, in a roundabout way. It’s kind of a depressing story, so you probably don’t want to hear it.”
“Sure I do, if you’re willing to tell me.”
He glanced at me again and said, “When I was nineteen, my life totally hit rock bottom. I was addicted to drugs and involved with an abusive psychopath who called himself my Dom, but he was actually just a sadistic asshole. I was too naïve and too messed up to know the difference, and I’m sure that man would have ended up killing me if it wasn’t for my friend Angel.
“He was a submissive to this same ‘Dom’, and he was a heroin addict like me. His life was as messed up as mine was, but he found the strength to save me. I wasn’t allowed to leave this man’s house, but when I told Angel I had family in Reno, he snuck me out, gave me some money, and put me on a bus. Then my aunt and uncle got me into rehab, and I was able to turn my life around.”
Riley tried to smile as he said, “I know you’re wondering what any of that has to do with this job, but I’m about to circle back around to it. After I left rehab, I was trying to figure out what to do with my life and saw a flyer for a cosmetology school that was offering scholarships. It made me think of Angel, because he loved makeup. Sometimes to cheer me up, he’d let me apply his makeup, or he’d do mine. That might seem random, but it was all he had with him at our so-called Dom’s house, and the only way he had to try to take my mind off the living hell my life had become. That’s why I associate makeup so strongly with my friend, and why I felt like I was honoring his memory when I decided to go into this field.”
I asked, “What happened to him?”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t stay in touch?”
“I wanted to, but he told me I needed to make a fresh start, and that it wouldn’t be good for me to associate with a junkie like him after I got clean. He also told me never to return to San Francisco because it was too dangerous, and he said he was going into hiding. That probably sounds overly dramatic, but that ‘Dom’ was a criminal and a sociopath, and I really believe he would have killed us for disobeying him.”
I whispered, “Holy shit.”
After a pause, he said, “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Angel. I hope he’d be proud of me if he could see me now.”
“Have you tried to find him?”
“Yeah. I went back to San Francisco a year later, even though he’d told me not to, and I tried to track him down. But I don’t even know his real name, and I hit nothing but dead ends. It’s been about four years now, but I haven’t given up hope.”
“Well, maybe your paths will cross again.”
“I have to believe they will. I want that more than anything, and if I find him, I’m going to try so hard to convince him we belong together.”
I said softly, “You’re in love with him.”
He nodded. “I know I’m not what he wants. In what world have two submissive bottoms ever ended up together? But we could take care of each other, and maybe that’d be enough.”
My heart broke for him, and I said, “He’d be incredibly lucky to end up with you, and I sincerely hope you find each other someday.”
“Thanks for saying that.” He went back to filing my nails and tried to lighten the mood by telling me, “Phoenix always says I’m the king of oversharing. I think I just proved him right.”
“I’m glad you trusted me with your story.”
“I try to be an open book. I’ve made so many mistakes, but I believe in owning them, instead of trying to pretend they never happened. I think that’s the best way of being sure they never happen again.”
Two crew members returned to the kitchen just then, and one of them told us, “Harper Royce finally showed up. We should be ready to roll in about fifteen minutes.”
