Read Online Craving Perfect by Liz Fichera - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Liz Fichera
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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definitely getting on her last nerve.
She slipped her parking card into the reader. Then she enunciated, “Because. We. Work. Here.”
I bristled but said nothing. My mind was racing through too many things. I never imagined that my own dream would take such a left turn. It started to border on full-blown, category five nightmare. I wondered how long it would be before I was running naked down the dark alley. I also wondered what kind of people would start chasing me. Would Alexandra turn into one of the zombies with fat-free blood dripping from her mouth?
She flashed me one of her wide, professionally whitened smiles, as if that would excuse her impatience, erasing her bad behavior.
I guess I was supposed to smile back but my cheeks only tightened. Along with all of the muscles in my empty stomach.
Desperate to remain calm, I took another deep breath and tried to swallow back the wall of dryness in my throat. I wondered if now was the time to make a run for it, especially since the car had slowed.
But run where? I wondered. Everyone thinks I’m Callie Collins.
If I only knew what Callie did at Channel 2. Knowing might stem my hyperventilation.
I sank lower in my passenger seat. I was probably making more of it than I needed to. But I was pretty certain that Callie wasn’t a chef in the Channel 2 cafeteria, if one even existed.
“Where’s Julie?” Alexandra snapped.
Three people in black aprons cowered around me in the Channel 2 dressing room. I felt oddly protective of them, even though I’d never seen them before. But I presumed they encompassed what Alexandra meant as the Make-Up Department.
A thirtysomething woman with spiky red hair touched up my manicure, another young girl who didn’t wear a stitch of make-up applied eyeliner, while a tanned guy with a salt-and-pepper goatee and “Kirk” on his badge rattled off something that sounded like a schedule. Everyone talked and worked faster depending on the inflection of Alexandra’s voice.
Julie, apparently, was the unlucky girl who did my hair. I didn’t know her but already I pitied her. Alexandra looked ready to lynch Julie with the curling iron cord.
I sat rigid in a high-backed chair. I was too stunned to speak, mostly because I’d never had so many people touching every part of my body at once. And all of the perfume, gel, and aerosol smells were making me dizzy. I should have insisted that we stop for something to eat on the way to the building. My stomach growled like a wild animal.
Too late now.
“Well, where is she?” Alexandra demanded again, this time an octave higher than before. Two thin blue blood vessels appeared above her temples. She looked like a vampire needing to feed. The make-up girl continued to wipe my cheeks with a wet cotton ball, harder.
Alexandra huffed and pulled out a cell phone from her pocket. She punched in a number and wrapped her thin arm against her side before she barked a snippy message into Julie’s voicemail.
Poor Julie, whoever she was
I strained to listen to Alexandra over Kirk’s incessant rambling. Callie Collins must have been the busiest person in all of Phoenix, not to mention the person with the best hair and make-up. Certainly no one could expect her—or me—to do everything he listed, not in a single day, at least. I didn’t have that much to do in a single year.
“After the show…back here for make-up…late lunch with the producer…hosting an auction at the Phoenix art museum…hair and make-up…evening news…cocktail party…media conference…attend Women’s Summit at Civic Plaza…late dinner with Max…” The details made my head spin, and the toxic aerosol smells hardly helped.
Before I could ask Kirk more about my dinner with Max, Alexandra barked into the phone again. Apparently someone else felt the wrath of her speed-dial.
“And where is the stylist? She can’t go on looking like this.” Alexandra raised her hand helplessly in my direction as if she was
She slipped her parking card into the reader. Then she enunciated, “Because. We. Work. Here.”
I bristled but said nothing. My mind was racing through too many things. I never imagined that my own dream would take such a left turn. It started to border on full-blown, category five nightmare. I wondered how long it would be before I was running naked down the dark alley. I also wondered what kind of people would start chasing me. Would Alexandra turn into one of the zombies with fat-free blood dripping from her mouth?
She flashed me one of her wide, professionally whitened smiles, as if that would excuse her impatience, erasing her bad behavior.
I guess I was supposed to smile back but my cheeks only tightened. Along with all of the muscles in my empty stomach.
Desperate to remain calm, I took another deep breath and tried to swallow back the wall of dryness in my throat. I wondered if now was the time to make a run for it, especially since the car had slowed.
But run where? I wondered. Everyone thinks I’m Callie Collins.
If I only knew what Callie did at Channel 2. Knowing might stem my hyperventilation.
I sank lower in my passenger seat. I was probably making more of it than I needed to. But I was pretty certain that Callie wasn’t a chef in the Channel 2 cafeteria, if one even existed.
“Where’s Julie?” Alexandra snapped.
Three people in black aprons cowered around me in the Channel 2 dressing room. I felt oddly protective of them, even though I’d never seen them before. But I presumed they encompassed what Alexandra meant as the Make-Up Department.
A thirtysomething woman with spiky red hair touched up my manicure, another young girl who didn’t wear a stitch of make-up applied eyeliner, while a tanned guy with a salt-and-pepper goatee and “Kirk” on his badge rattled off something that sounded like a schedule. Everyone talked and worked faster depending on the inflection of Alexandra’s voice.
Julie, apparently, was the unlucky girl who did my hair. I didn’t know her but already I pitied her. Alexandra looked ready to lynch Julie with the curling iron cord.
I sat rigid in a high-backed chair. I was too stunned to speak, mostly because I’d never had so many people touching every part of my body at once. And all of the perfume, gel, and aerosol smells were making me dizzy. I should have insisted that we stop for something to eat on the way to the building. My stomach growled like a wild animal.
Too late now.
“Well, where is she?” Alexandra demanded again, this time an octave higher than before. Two thin blue blood vessels appeared above her temples. She looked like a vampire needing to feed. The make-up girl continued to wipe my cheeks with a wet cotton ball, harder.
Alexandra huffed and pulled out a cell phone from her pocket. She punched in a number and wrapped her thin arm against her side before she barked a snippy message into Julie’s voicemail.
Poor Julie, whoever she was
I strained to listen to Alexandra over Kirk’s incessant rambling. Callie Collins must have been the busiest person in all of Phoenix, not to mention the person with the best hair and make-up. Certainly no one could expect her—or me—to do everything he listed, not in a single day, at least. I didn’t have that much to do in a single year.
“After the show…back here for make-up…late lunch with the producer…hosting an auction at the Phoenix art museum…hair and make-up…evening news…cocktail party…media conference…attend Women’s Summit at Civic Plaza…late dinner with Max…” The details made my head spin, and the toxic aerosol smells hardly helped.
Before I could ask Kirk more about my dinner with Max, Alexandra barked into the phone again. Apparently someone else felt the wrath of her speed-dial.
“And where is the stylist? She can’t go on looking like this.” Alexandra raised her hand helplessly in my direction as if she was
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