Fake Daddy To Be

Normally, I don’t use this much make-up, but tonight is special and I want to look my best. My best feature is probably my skin. Even without foundation, it’s creamy and luminous, probably because I have a very regimented skincare routine. Most people follow a Korean ten-step skin care routine, but I do them one better and have an eleven-step procedure. After all, as a model, these are the assets that get me jobs.

Carefully, I finish the rest of my make-up and then step back to look at myself in the mirror. Good. It’s a pretty, glowy look that’s subtle and refined, without appearing overtly dramatic. With my face done, I let down my hair and heat up the curling iron before running some coconut oil through it followed by a heat protecting spray. I’ve just started curling my hair, when there’s a loud thud followed by a gasp on the other side of the apartment. I jump, and accidentally burn the side of my finger. Oh shit! Sucking on the burned digit, I go to see what happened to Ava.

“Ava?” I call, rushing to her room. “What’s going on?” I find her pressed against the wall, staring at her reflection in shock. She’s normally a pro at applying cosmetics, but right now, it looks like her makeup bag sneezed on her face. Literally, her eyebrows look jagged and her mouth belongs on a clown. “Ava, what happened?”

“I spaced out,” she said, pressing a hand to her temple. “And when I came out of it, I saw that I did this.” She points to the motley mess that covers her usually pretty features. “Do you think it’s possible to have a dissociative episode? Like one of those out-of-body experiences?”

I shake my head.

“I have no idea, hon, but what I do know is that we need to get you cleaned up. Come on.” I grab the makeup wipes from her dresser and lead her to her bed. Her room is a mess of clothes strewn about and old dishes she hasn’t taken to the kitchen yet. Although we both clean houses to make extra money, it seems to be impossible for Ava to keep her own space tidy. A form a rebellion, I suppose.

I guide Ava to sit, and use makeup wipes to clean off her face. Under the layers of color, I finally find my best friend, and her eyes are swimming with tears. I know immediately what she’s going to say, and beat her to the punch.

“Ava, you should stay home tonight.”

“No,” she whines. “I want to go. We spent so much money renting our dresses, and we blew our last paychecks getting shoes and purses to match. I can’t afford not to go. It’d be such a waste!” Then, my bestie cuts herself off with a fantastically huge sneeze. I shy away, but it feels like an enormous vortex just blew through the room.

Sympathetically, I hand her a box of tissues from her nightstand. I wait while she blows her nose and wipes the tears from her eyes. When my buddy looks up again, my expression is stern.

“Ava, you can’t go. Come on, we both know that. It doesn’t matter how much money we’ve spent because they’re not going to let you in like this. Your nose is red, your eyes are runny, and honestly, you look like hell. There’s no amount of make-up that can hide the fact that you’re sick.”

“No!” she bleats. “But I love that metallic dress! It shows off my booty and I’m going to meet a gorgeous guy and –”

I cut her off.

“Aves, it’s not going to happen. No guy is going to approach you while you’re a walking bag of germs. Come on, let’s be real.”

We have a silent battle of wills for a moment, but then after a few seconds, my bestie’s lower lip starts to tremble, and I know I’ve won.

“Okay,” she says softly. “I won’t go. You’re right.”

I pat her knee and give her a sympathetic smile. I try not to think of all the money we’ve wasted on tonight as I reach for the makeup wipes. Hell, how much have I spent? Maybe a thousand dollars? That’s a lot for someone who’s a struggling model in the city.

But if my best friend can’t go, there’s no way I’m going either. I start to wipe down my face, but Ava stops me. When I look at her, she appears puzzled.

“What are you doing, Jo? Just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you can’t go either.”

I frown.

“Silly, I’m not going to leave you here by yourself, sick as a dog. What if you need to go to the hospital? Who’s going to take you?”

My friend chortles, although it comes out more as a croak.

“Don’t worry about me. We’ve spent too much time and money planning tonight to let all of it go to waste. You go, Jolene! Have fun for both of us!”