Chapter 2I Demanded to Be a Star

When the young assistant handed me the water, she leaned in and whispered, "Did she ask you for a discount the second you walked in?"

I raised an eyebrow and nodded.

Her expression was a perfect "I knew it." She continued in a low voice, "Her future sister-in-law is the one paying for this whole photoshoot package. She's trying to get it for free so she can pocket the refund herself."

"Honestly," she sighed, "we never used to put up with clients like this. The new manager has no backbone at all. Sarah was so tired of dealing with her that she just didn't want to come in today."

I shot her a questioning look.

She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with embarrassment. "Oops, never mind. Forget I said that. Her kid is definitely sick. She's at the hospital."

And with that, she scurried away.

I walked back into the suite, her words echoing in my mind.

I placed the bottle of Evian on the vanity in front of Chloe. She took a sip before finally gracing me with her attention. "Alright. You can start now."

I let out a quiet breath of relief and began applying her foundation.

Her skin was a challenge. It was fair but had a dull, yellowish undertone. Whatever products she’d been using had left her with enlarged pores, and just prepping her skin and minimizing them took the better part of half an hour.

I had just finished setting her makeup when she let out a piercing shriek.

The plastic water bottle flew from her hand and slammed into my shoulder.

I stumbled back, stunned. "What... what's wrong?"

Her eyes were blazing. "Are you even a real makeup artist? You have no idea what you're doing! Look at this! You're just dumping white powder all over my face."

I clamped down on my patience. "Ma'am, this is a technique called 'baking.' It's for long-wear makeup, especially for photoshoots. It ensures your makeup stays flawless for hours."

But a thought pricked at my mind.

How could a supposed beauty influencer not know about baking?

Her two bridesmaids seized the opportunity to jump in. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you questioning our sister's expertise?"

"Nobody sets makeup like that! It's supposed to be a fine mist of setting spray, a delicate process. You just poured flour on her face!"

I tried to explain, my frustration mounting, but one of them suddenly shoved a camera tripod toward me.

Caught off guard, I staggered back, my forehead smacking against the cold metal.

I cried out, more in shock than pain.

The bridesmaid sneered. "What are you doing? Trying to fake an injury for a payout?"

I was speechless, the injustice of it all catching in my throat.

Another makeup artist saw the commotion and hurried over, trying to de-escalate the situation and explain the technique on my behalf. After a tense moment, Chloe finally seemed to relent, sinking back into her chair.

"I'll give you one last chance," she said, her voice dripping with condescension.