Dressing For Success

Kristina Harlowe sat in the makeup chair, a look of resignation etched on her face.

It wasn’t that she hated makeup. There were days where she just wanted to look pretty, damn it. This was something she’d have to get used to if things went her way. Her lack of enthusiasm focused on what she was getting dressed up for.

The makeup artist was gently applying his trade to Kristina’s face. He was pleasant enough. She wouldn’t take this out on him; he was only doing his job. Quite well, if she was honest.

“What do we think?” the artist smiled. “The hair, the makeup, better than before?”

Kristina looked in the mirror. It was a deceptively simple job that he’d done to her. A subtle blush here, some eyelash curl there, all to accentuate her feminine charm. In her hair was a lovely pink flower on a hair pin, resting above her right eye.

“Much better. Now I don’t look like a skank.” Kristina nodded. “Can you make sure all my makeup is like this?”

The artist gave her a thumbs up. “You got it! We’re going to keep you looking good for those cameras!” With that, Kristina rose from her chair and started walking.

The place she’d been in for the past several hours was still foreign to her. Every room was just a bit too big, the decorations always crossing the line from classy to gaudy. Anywhere she looked, it rubbed her the wrong way. She didn’t belong here.

That was a line she’d heard so many times.

“Kristina?” A familiar voice called. Speed-walking towards her from the right was a blonde woman with her hair tied into a bun in the back, wearing a white top and black overalls. Much like that pink-haired woman Kristina saw answer Bruce’s every request, she was carrying her own tablet. She got within six feet of Kristina before tripping over herself, going face first into the ground. “I’m sorry I’m late, finding parking is surprisingly hard.”

“I get it, Diane.” They’d given her a personal assistant to help her out in all of this. This girl had been an oasis of sanity in this growing maelstrom of madness. “What’s our schedule looking like?”

Diane’s finger flicked across her tablet’s screen. “You have a dress fitting in an hour, then we have to do a dry run of the bachelor introduction ceremony. There’s a production meeting after that, a quick bite to eat, and then we start filming.”

Kristina rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to do this reality show. But this was the price she had to pay to get what she really wanted.

“Are they at least going to serve good food?”

Diane winced. “They’re ordering pizza, but you’re limited to salad because they expect you to have dinner with everyone on the first night.”

The echo of Kristina’s rumbling stomach could be heard from down the hall. God, she could crush a pizza right now.

----

Across town, Jules was standing in a formalwear clothing store. The store itself had been closed to the public all day, with contestants for the show reportedly cycling in for hours to get fit for the opening.

Tailors were furiously measuring his limbs and marking pants with chalk, forcing him to change in and out of several items while production staff kept giving their thoughts on what color and style of suit he should wear.

During one such argument, Jules was wearing nothing but an undershirt and grey boxers. It was deeply aggravating and the chill from the air conditioning was only making it worse. He had to stand there in front of three mirrors, waiting for everyone to stop arguing with themselves.

“You too, huh?”

Jules peeked out from his mirror prison to find the source of this new voice. Standing not far from him was another man, not even wearing an undershirt. The only thing protecting his man’s modesty were some generously fitted boxers with red hearts on them.

The man looked to be about the same age as Jules, but with slicked back blonde hair. “Shoots devolve into this sometimes. It’s why I wasn’t here earlier,” he huffed. “I swear, sometimes they can be so annoying.”

Jules shrugged. Of course he was a model. With his subtle muscular build? He’d have been shocked if this show didn’t have at least one male model as a contestant.

“My agent said this would help round out my portfolio. I guess it’ll get my foot in the door to Hollywood,” he mused. “A job’s a job, I guess. That payday’s bigger than any I’ve gotten before. They’ve got to be desperate to give these kinds of payouts.”

That got a laugh out of Jules.

“What about you? What’re you here for?”

No point in lying, Jules told himself. “The money.”

The blonde-haired man laughed. “Of course. Just remember, there can be only one winner. And it’s going to be me. Stay out of my way – understood?”

Jules didn’t bother fighting him. Best not to make enemies before he even got to the set. Not that he held the model’s attention much longer. The tailors came back out with a light blue suit and white shirt, and the man was quickly contented to get dressed and get moving.

That left Jules alone in his underwear, shivering.

A gust of wind from outside as someone pushed the doors in didn’t help at all. He was nearly a Jules-flavored popsicle. Flavor? Mid.

The man who came into the store had blue hair styled to stand straight up and with a wave, the sides completely buzzed. His teeth were impossibly perfect, his eyes impossibly blue, and his voice impossibly grating.

“I thought we got everyone ready for their introductions,” he frowned. “So what’s taking so long? I thought we got everyone’s measurements weeks ago!”

The production staff stopped arguing with each other and immediately shut up. After a bit of scuffling, an intern was pushed forward. “Uh, sorry,” he squeaked. “We had a last minute alternate.”

“Oooooh!” The man got way further into Jules’ personal space than he cared for. “This is our mystery man! I was wondering if I’d get to see you before things kicked off!” He snapped his fingers. “At least get this man some pants and a shirt on! We can’t film him in his underwear, we’re not going to be on cable!”

Jules recognized all of those impossible features put into a single package. It was the late night host whose clips kept forcing themselves into his playlists. Even though he kept blocking them.

Petey Pete.