Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(16)

“Out of the way! Move it!”

Cora took a step to the side, disoriented, and then noticed the harried cameraman trying to pass her.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, moving out of the way even further. He shook his head at her as he rushed past. She stood unsure, looking this way and that until a short but well-built man came up to her.

“Cora Vestian?”

“Yes.”

The man grinned broadly. “Armand.” He was fresh-faced, dark-haired and olive-skinned, with sharp cheekbones and flashing black eyes. She wouldn’t have thought anyone outside of the seventies could pull off a mustache, but on him it was dashing. Along with his big framed black glasses, tight jeans and suspenders over a striped vintage Parisian shirt, he looked incredibly hip in addition to handsome.

Cora tugged on the hem of her white t-shirt and rubbed her hands on her plain black leggings. Marcus had asked her what wardrobe basics she might like and she’d asked for the bare minimum, insisting she would take care of it herself as soon as she had her first paycheck. But maybe she should have worn the blouse and skirt he’d given her the first day.

Armand held out a hand and when she took it to shake, he pulled it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Enchanté. Thanks for helping a chap out in his hour of need. Now let’s get you into hair and makeup.” He took her arm and led her to a chair on the far side of the room in front of a row of mirrors, each lined with light bulbs.

“Armand!” Another man came running up to Armand, a tablet in hand. “It’s a disaster! The zipper ripped on the nymph’s maxi dress. Her tits are hanging out. And its Zephoria so there’s not enough tape in upper New Olympus to keep those things in without the dress securely zipped.”

Armand lifted a heavy eyebrow and smiled Cora’s way. “A designer’s job is never done.” Then he looked to a skinny man with a receding hairline who was hovering by Cora’s chair. “Mr. Ubeli said to treat Miss Vestian with the utmost respect. You understand?”

Cora sensed rather than saw the other man immediately come to attention at Marcus’s name. “Yes, sir.”

To Cora, Armand said, “Relax and be yourself.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. His cologne was manly and as sophisticated as the rest of him. “You’ll do fabulous out there darling, I know it.”

With that he was off and Cora was left feeling extremely overwhelmed and out of her element.

First came hair, an extensive process of rollers and gels and sprays. While her hair was ‘setting,’ the makeup artist had his way with her.

He murmured about good bone structure and classic cheekbones but never spoke directly to her for the entire hour he was working on her. Two hours after she’d sat down in the chair, hair and makeup were finally finished.

Cora looked at herself in the mirror and was stunned. She was covered in violet-shaded white makeup, topped with a powder that gave an iridescent glow to her face, chest, and arms. Striking purple, silver, and black makeup surrounded her eyes, topped off with the longest fake lashes she’d ever seen. It felt funny every time she blinked, when the lashes flapped against her cheeks.

Her hair hung in dark cascading waves down her shoulders, little wisps pinned up here and there that created a wild, ethereal effect.

She looked absolutely nothing like herself.

“Perfect,” the artist said, and spun her out of the chair. “Let’s get you to costuming.”

Costuming. Cora could only internally shake her head. This certainly felt like playing dress up. Had she really been wiping a toddler’s runny nose only three days ago? Though actually, that felt far more real.

This was the dream world. A strange realm full of beautiful, elfin people who were too tall, too thin, and perpetually grouchy. Apart from Armand, she hadn’t seen a single person smile all day.

The assistants who dressed her acted as impersonal as the hair and makeup guys. The dress itself was gorgeous, though. In silver, charcoal and purple tones, it was a draped dress with fabrics that were sheer as clouds and had the effect of falling like water. With a pleased sound she turned in them and watched the material float around her. Armand was a genius.

The assistant was less happy. With a string of curses, he stepped in to pin something, and instead he stuck Cora’s flesh.

Yeouch! Cora jumped.

“Well fuck, stand still and I won’t accidently fucking pin you. Fucking amateurs, I fucking swear,” he hissed under his breath. “Where the fuck did they find this one?”

Cora froze and gritted her teeth.

It’s a paycheck. Grin and take it for the paycheck.

She waited for him to come at her again, with either more pins or more abuse. But another one of the assistants turned from the rack of clothes and pulled the second man away. He spoke in an urgent whisper.

“Mr. Ubeli,” were the only words Cora caught as she waited, trying to keep a brave face. The first assistant returned and finished his work, silent and stiff. The second disappeared, and reappeared with a bottle of water.

“The lights can be hot,” he explained. Cora noticed none of the other models being given water, but she accepted it. She was directed off to the side to wait her turn.

“But don’t sit down,” was the assistant’s last instruction. “Don’t crease the fabric.” She gave him a thumbs up but he was already off.