Read Online A Total Waste of Makeup by Kim Gruenenfelder - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kim Gruenenfelder
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Britney hot?”
“She’s ‘makes Halle Berry look like Hattie McDaniel’ hot.”
Shit.
We get one “cool” from Jordan, a “sweet” from Jeff, and a “daaammmnnn,” from Keenan, followed by an appreciative high-five for Drew.
“Thanks,” Drew says as he high-fives Keenan. “I’ve got to get to Makeup. But Jordan, I have a question for you. I’m having a little dinner party this Thursday night after work. Are you available as a photographer for some candids?”
I can tell from the look on Jordan’s face that he thinks the question is a bit odd, but he’s not about to say no to the film’s star. “Yeah, sure.”
“Great. It’s at my house, seven o’clock. There will be an hors d’oeuvres hour, followed by a three-course meal—should be over around midnight. A thousand dollars enough?”
Jordan’s eyes nearly bug out. “Are you kidding? That’s great.”
My eyes, on the other hand, have narrowed into suspicious little slits. I stare at Drew as he leads me away, yelling over his shoulder to Jordan, “Charlie will give you the address. Dress up a little—I want you to be a guest as well, so the other guests feel relaxed enough for pictures.”
When we’re far enough away, I say under my breath, “What dinner party? I don’t have anything scheduled for you.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to arrange a dinner party for me,” Drew says cheerfully. “Come with me to my trailer.”
We get to Drew’s trailer, and Drew walks in ahead of me. As I enter, a palm frond smacks me in the face.
“Careful,” Drew warns me a second too late.
I instinctively grab my face to check for blood, then step into Drew’s trailer, newly decorated to look like a native Hawaiian hut from the 1800s.
“Aloha,” Drew says, smiling wide as he puts a purple pikake lei over my head, and kisses me on the cheek. “Do you like what I’ve done with the trailer? Pretty cool, huh?”
I put my hands on my hips and look around. The walls are adorned with palm fronds and flowers, grass mats cover the floors, old koa wood rocking chairs replace his plush purple couches, and slack-key guitar music is being piped in from God knows where.
“It’s very…striking,” I say delicately. “What did you do with your old couches?”
Drew opens a small refrigerator and hands me a premade Mai Tai. “I moved them to my house. Why? Do you want them?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. They are $10,000 dark purple velvet couches that he had made when he found out his chakras were purple, and decided to redo his trailer all in purple in order to have his surroundings be more in harmony with his chakra. That would be two weeks ago. If it weren’t for Drew’s constant quest for spiritual fulfillment (always accompanied by a frenzy of redecorating), I wouldn’t have any furniture in my house. That’s another benefit of working for a movie star—all the free castoffs.
Drew turns on some electric tiki torches and little plastic tiki dancers that remind me of the Brady Bunch visiting Hawaii. He stretches his arms out wide, basking in his new surroundings. “Oh, I love the feeling you get when you’re in Hawaii. It’s so spiritual!”
Light-up dancers are spiritual?
“I’m thinking of becoming a kahuna,” Drew says, handing me a bowl of macadamia nuts.
“A what?” I ask.
“A kahuna. It’s sort of like a high priest in Hawaii.” He pops a nut into his mouth, grabs a Mai Tai for himself, then sits on one of the rocking chairs. “I’ve decided when I’m finished with the film, I’m going to move to Hawaii and study the religion of its people.”
“Which is what?” I ask, taking the rickety old rocking chair across from him.
Drew looks confused. “Which is what—what?”
“The religion of the Hawaiian people—the one you want to study. What’s it called?”
Drew considers that for a moment. “I’m not really sure. I suppose that will be my first question on my journey to self-enlightenment.
“Now.”
“She’s ‘makes Halle Berry look like Hattie McDaniel’ hot.”
Shit.
We get one “cool” from Jordan, a “sweet” from Jeff, and a “daaammmnnn,” from Keenan, followed by an appreciative high-five for Drew.
“Thanks,” Drew says as he high-fives Keenan. “I’ve got to get to Makeup. But Jordan, I have a question for you. I’m having a little dinner party this Thursday night after work. Are you available as a photographer for some candids?”
I can tell from the look on Jordan’s face that he thinks the question is a bit odd, but he’s not about to say no to the film’s star. “Yeah, sure.”
“Great. It’s at my house, seven o’clock. There will be an hors d’oeuvres hour, followed by a three-course meal—should be over around midnight. A thousand dollars enough?”
Jordan’s eyes nearly bug out. “Are you kidding? That’s great.”
My eyes, on the other hand, have narrowed into suspicious little slits. I stare at Drew as he leads me away, yelling over his shoulder to Jordan, “Charlie will give you the address. Dress up a little—I want you to be a guest as well, so the other guests feel relaxed enough for pictures.”
When we’re far enough away, I say under my breath, “What dinner party? I don’t have anything scheduled for you.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to arrange a dinner party for me,” Drew says cheerfully. “Come with me to my trailer.”
We get to Drew’s trailer, and Drew walks in ahead of me. As I enter, a palm frond smacks me in the face.
“Careful,” Drew warns me a second too late.
I instinctively grab my face to check for blood, then step into Drew’s trailer, newly decorated to look like a native Hawaiian hut from the 1800s.
“Aloha,” Drew says, smiling wide as he puts a purple pikake lei over my head, and kisses me on the cheek. “Do you like what I’ve done with the trailer? Pretty cool, huh?”
I put my hands on my hips and look around. The walls are adorned with palm fronds and flowers, grass mats cover the floors, old koa wood rocking chairs replace his plush purple couches, and slack-key guitar music is being piped in from God knows where.
“It’s very…striking,” I say delicately. “What did you do with your old couches?”
Drew opens a small refrigerator and hands me a premade Mai Tai. “I moved them to my house. Why? Do you want them?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. They are $10,000 dark purple velvet couches that he had made when he found out his chakras were purple, and decided to redo his trailer all in purple in order to have his surroundings be more in harmony with his chakra. That would be two weeks ago. If it weren’t for Drew’s constant quest for spiritual fulfillment (always accompanied by a frenzy of redecorating), I wouldn’t have any furniture in my house. That’s another benefit of working for a movie star—all the free castoffs.
Drew turns on some electric tiki torches and little plastic tiki dancers that remind me of the Brady Bunch visiting Hawaii. He stretches his arms out wide, basking in his new surroundings. “Oh, I love the feeling you get when you’re in Hawaii. It’s so spiritual!”
Light-up dancers are spiritual?
“I’m thinking of becoming a kahuna,” Drew says, handing me a bowl of macadamia nuts.
“A what?” I ask.
“A kahuna. It’s sort of like a high priest in Hawaii.” He pops a nut into his mouth, grabs a Mai Tai for himself, then sits on one of the rocking chairs. “I’ve decided when I’m finished with the film, I’m going to move to Hawaii and study the religion of its people.”
“Which is what?” I ask, taking the rickety old rocking chair across from him.
Drew looks confused. “Which is what—what?”
“The religion of the Hawaiian people—the one you want to study. What’s it called?”
Drew considers that for a moment. “I’m not really sure. I suppose that will be my first question on my journey to self-enlightenment.
“Now.”
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