CHAPTER1
Brinley
Where it all began, three years ago
A dose of adrenaline surges through me as I step back and admire the subject I’m working on. Dawson Cain, a well-known B-list actor, is playing an alien from a planet I can’t pronounce. But I know all the conditions of that planet to a T.
The producer of the highly anticipated film pulled in a crew of special effects artists, me and my staff included, to help create palettes for each of the planet’s creatures based on their climate. Since Dawson is playing a prince who lives in a choice altitude, he boasts supple green flesh with splashes of rust-colored freckles from their sun.
Dawson is a great subject. Respectful of the often-painstaking process that adds hours to his filming days. He’s also personable, down-to-earth, and ridiculously charming. He does, however, tend to get antsy toward the end of long sessions like these.
“A few more finishing touches,” I tell him, “and then you’re good to go.”
Dawson grunts, which is pretty much all he can do until I’ve given him the go-ahead to speak.
I step in once more, airbrush in hand, spotting areas on his chest and abs that could use a little more contouring. It’s all icing at this point, and an inner voice warns me not to mess with perfection.
I won’t,I assure myself. I’ll go easy. With the slightest pressure on the tab, I line the underside of each muscle, enhancing the definition. I move to the pectorals next but decide they’re good how they are. After stepping back once more, I scrutinize his entire torso before moving on to his legs, ankles, and slightly webbed feet. He lifts his hands as my gaze moves upward, turning them this way and that so I can inspect the inside of his wrists and palms.
“Thanks,” I mumble, motioning for him to spin full circle. It took my entire crew over four and a half hours to accomplish Dawson and his heroine’s makeup, with a few bathroom and snack breaks in between. Of course, we met with the stars last week to get cast and mold sets for their face masks. In addition, my crew and I show up two hours before the cast for all the immediate prep work, which is why I sent my team home moments ago.
Another burst of adrenaline swells in my chest as Dawson completes the turn. Once he’s facing me again, the actor lifts his arms to either side with a flourish and manages a muffled, “Ta-dah!”
I laugh. “Ta-dah is right. You look incredible. You should be good to talk now.” I turn my attention to the area around his lips. “Go ahead and say something.”
“Yoo-hoo, makeup girl…” he says in a high-pitched tone with a flamboyant wave of one hand. I almost miss the wink he gives me, as focused as I am on the makeup job.
I grin, already knowing what he’ll say next. Dawson knows my name well enough by now; he’s proven that. The termmakeup girlcame from the heroine of the film, actress Buffy Fields, who tried waving me down this morning asking for a drink.
Dawson waves his hand some more and adds a pout. “I need my Egyptian ice water, makeup girl. Hurry, I’m like, dying inside.”
His green lids contrast the yellow contacts he wears. It’s definitely a creepy and very realistic effect. Yet as transformed as the actor might be, Dawson’s charm shines through.
I glance around to make sure no one heard him. No matter how entitled they might be, I refuse to poke fun at any of the celebrities on set.
“That’s enough mouth movement,” I say wryly.
I recall the hand mirror I prepared just for this moment. Yesterday, after finishing his makeup for their first day of shooting, I held the mirror up for him to see his face. He grinned wide, turned this way and that, and gave me a list of praise and props.
Today, he’ll see something different in the mirror. I printed a glossy colored picture of a female alien. It has similar green skin with pink, enhanced kissy lips and lashes for days.
“Let me grab the mirror again so you can check out your face,” I say. I grab the handle and keep the thing facing me as I normally do. “You ready?” I ask once it’s positioned in place.
“Ready, baby!” he says. “Hit me with that reflection.”
I spin the mirror around, hoping he’ll be fooled for at least a second or two.
I watch intently as Dawson’s yellow alien eyes grow bigger. He gasps, then lifts a gnarled hand to pat his lips. That’s when a full and frankly beautiful grin spreads over his face.
His eyes meet mine. “You got me,” he says through a laugh.
I laugh in return, enjoying the connection we seem to have. Some people you just vibe with. Although, I can’t help but think everyone vibes well with Dawson Cain. He’s an easy person to be around.
“You know,” Dawson says as he admires the photo once more, “Iamkind of liking those lashes.” He blinks his own lashes at me.
“Maybe next time, Prince Ali,” I say.
“Prince Calpitron,” he corrects with a wink.
