CHAPTERELEVEN

After ten minutes of the silent treatment while Joyce continues with my makeup, the quiet gets to me.

“Did you always want to be a makeup artist?”

I ask because one, despite being rude, the girl intrigues me, and two, her own makeup is flawless making me jealous, since I have trouble putting mascara on without a huge goop stuck on at least one eyelash.

Joyce halts in the middle of touching up my eyebrows, her light brown eyes meeting mine with a look that could send her to do time behind bars.

“When have you ever wanted to know anything about me?”

The frustration in her voice makes me think she wants to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but here with me.

“I just thought…”

“And another thing. What you did to Eli was nasty. Just… nasty. I hope he finally wakes up and smells the coffee one day.”

Wow.

How can one respond to that? I knew she hated me, but this is a whole new level. It’s like she despises me. Wishes she could create a Kendra doll to poke holes into with a needle kind of hatred.

“The photo in that magazine made it look a lot worse than it was,” I say, trying to defend myself with the same excuse… yet again.

She sighs out loud, but continues with her job. I must admit, despite her obvious loathing of me she’s still very professional. Maybe she gets paid super well and that’s the only reason why she puts up with me.

“It shouldn’t have looked like anything. That’s the issue a lot of people have.”

Of course. I should have realized there would be a backlash for what I did. Or shall I say, what I didn’t realize I did, but I can’t explain that to anyone. Right now, I feel so alone. I have no one I can confide in. No one I know I can trust to open my heart out and explain what I’m going through. It’s the loneliest feeling in the world.

“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day. Kendra Banks actually, genuinely looks sad. Don’t tell me the most narcissistic woman in the world actually feels… guilt?”

I might be a bitch myself, but this woman is on a whole other level. Sure, people have been saying bad things to me these past few days, but never to this extent and never with such venom in their voices.

“You might be very good at what you do, but that doesn’t excuse your total lack of professionalism right now. Yes, I have problems, and yes, I upset my husband, but that is between him and I, and is certainly nothing to do with a makeup artist who is being paid handsomely to do her job. Now, you either do it, or leave. It’s your choice.”

Momentarily stunned by my outburst, her mouth slightly parts for a second. However, she soon recovers, her wonderful resting bitch face returning as she begins to administer some blusher.

Around five minutes go by and someone knocks on the door, immediately letting themselves in before I even have the chance to say anything.

A woman who looks to be in her forties emerges. She’s wearing a very slim, blue pencil skirt suit getup, looking every bit the power woman I assume her to be. Her platinum blond hair is up in a bun, her makeup light, which she doesn’t even seem to need considering she’s already beautiful.

She takes in the scene in front of her, clapping her hands as her gaze fixes on the lovely lady in front of me. “Joyce, you’ve outdone yourself again.”

Joyce smiles proudly back at this stranger, her features totally changing from when she was stuck in this room with only me. She even looks lovely herself when she’s not scowling.

“Thanks, Natalie. All in a day’s work.” She picks up a few things and starts packing. “You’ve timed your entrance perfectly. I’m all about done here.”

She gets the rest of her things, kisses who I now know is Natalie on the cheek, and then exits without having said another word to me.

“Wow, she is not very nice, that girl,” I utter almost under my breath. Although Natalie certainly hears me.

“Can you blame her, after breaking up her relationship with her fiancé of five years? You didn’t even like her fiancé, you just thought of him as ‘a challenge.’”

Burying my head in my hands, I groan out loud. No wonder she was so nasty to me. I deserved every single bit of hatred she gave me. However, it still doesn’t stop this growing feeling that this is not something I would do. I would never want to hurt anyone. I couldn’t even harm an ant.

“Don’t cover your face, girl, you’ll smudge your makeup. Paris is going to come in and style your hair shortly. She’s running a little late. Apparently there’s been an accident on the freeway and there’s tailbacks.” She smiles before looking at the table in front of me. “Where’s the champagne? You always have champagne.”

My eyes flit towards the table. “I decided I’m going teetotal for a while.”

Tags: Jaimie Roberts Romance
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