CHAPTER 18: COURAGE, UNIQUENESS, NERVE, and TALENT… Some have IT… and then there’s HER

JUSTIN

Well, the prelims are underway, which means the squawking about the unfairness of it all has been nonstop for the past half hour. I mean, she was already given an advantage because her pet idiot has not returned. Admittedly, if it was anyone else, I might feel a little sorry for them. But such is not the case for Lindsay. She shouldn’t be here; hasn’t earned the RIGHT to be here! So as far as I’m concerned she’s reaping the consequences for bulldozing her way in. 

“Are you worried at all?” Cheryl whispers, as we do one final check before we begin.

“About who? Lindsay?”

“Yes and no. I mean Evil Mickey has been M.I.A. for a while now.”

I snicker. “Not my fault they didn’t bother to read the contents within the envelopes when Lorde handed them out. I’m sure it was one of the things he made sure to specify. But as per usual, Michael and Lindsay live by the motto: Rules are for others, instead of Experience is the BEST teacher.”

“Why Sunshine, you sound as though you don’t like them very much,” she teases, and I can’t help but laugh.

“What gave me away? Was it the way my lip automatically wants to curl like Sylvester Stallone’s when I speak to and about them? Or is it that my horns instantly outshine my halo whenever they are near?”

“A little of both, I suppose,” she answers. “I still can’t believe she has the audacity to complain, even after they gave her a handicap.”

Flashing back to an hour ago, I can’t help but reflect on the dulcet mix of whine, coo, and finally, screech. Brett laid out the rules, in which we have two models, and have to do two looks for them. The first one is a superhero look, while the other is total glam. Not only do we get to choose their outfits, but there is also a photoshoot, where at least one of the outfits has to be styled as if being featured in a magazine. But while the rest of us are completely looking forward to this, she who is being a pain in EVERYONE’S ASS decides to give a litany of complaints and her unsolicited opinions.

“Uh, forgive me, but I thought this competition was about art?” she says, looking around the group superiorly, as if there should be heads nodding in agreement.

“Drag IS an art form, Lindsay, one that is steadily gaining momentum into a mainstream form of entertainment,” Brett answers. Honestly, I admired his restraint at not simply dismissing her.

“Be that as it may, but this isn’t about that.”

“Have you ever really seen Drag in action, Lindsay?”

“Of course I have, but again, this competition isn’t affiliated with that! It’s just a bunch of men dressed as women, which has nothing to do with art.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong on so many levels, Lindsay,” Daphne interjects. “But then again, only a person lacking imagination would say that. I suppose that’s why the room is filled with professionals while still allowing the WASPzilla of Wishful Thinking to remain in their ACCOMPLISHED presence.”

“And just who asked for your opinion, Daphne? Shouldn’t you be swinging from a chandelier somewhere? It’s the only thing you’re really good for, much like your boss.”

“No, Lindsay, that’s your job… even though both sets of balls you’re trying to swing from have ‘NO VACANCY’ signs. That’s why you’ve latched onto your fellow flunky-in-failure. And just where is Michael anyway?

I huff a small laugh, as I remember Daphne’s very public verbal smack of reality to her. There was nothing she could refute with, since everyone here knew it to be the absolute truth. That’s the one thing very few people would expect of Daph though. She looks sweet as honey, but like Cheryl, she won’t let a person live in delusion. And that especially holds true if you’re Lindsay Peterson; we just simply don’t do well with termagents.

“That’s Lindsay for you, Cher. Always wanting things to accommodate her, regardless of the preparations each of us went through to show well during the competition.” Another one of her attention-seeking shrieks reaches our ears, and I just barely stop myself from going over there to slap her out of her supposed hysteria. 

“God, I wish that bitch would develop a sudden case of laryngitis and just shut the fuck up already!” Daphne exclaims.

Cheryl snickers, before pointing out, “You know both of you are going to have to suppress those violent tendencies; Justin in your case that would be again. It’s what is really going to separate you from them. While the both of you will just look completely unbothered by their antics, let the PITA Association constantly look churlish and constipated. Don’t forget that the world is watching. It simply will not be beneficial- both professionally and personally- to publicly provide anyone with a how-to manual on pushing your buttons.”

“I know,” I sigh. “I just wish they’d stop trying already. Brian and I are solid, and will remain so regardless of what they do. It’s just tiresome to keep having to deliver the message while curbing my naturally blunt nature.”

Daph whines, “But dammit, I want to be petty!”

Cheryl throws her head back and laughs loudly at both of us. “Well, you can’t. You, my little angel, are currently sitting on top of the art world and I have a feeling that you will remain there for many years to come. Daphne, you’re about to become known as Justin’s assistant, which means anyone who wants to work with him will have to go through you. Let those insignificant fools keep spinning their proverbial tires. Like all rubber, it eventually wears thin from over use. In the meantime, we have a plan, which is to win this thing. So let’s do that.”

Miranda comes over to the three of us with the models we’ve chosen for the day, Monet and Manilla. Both are at the top of their respective games right now having just come off of All-Stars 4 season, and are definitely perfect for what I have in mind. Both of them will be representing two of the mainstream comic book franchises, and they’ve given us the room to make an entire production out of the photoshoots if we want. So yes, I’m taking that option! Plus with the work Kinnetik JTD will be doing for Kell-Jam, this will certainly be good advertisement in the mainstream media area of the business.

As for the glam looks, that will be the real challenge for me since I’ve never done them. It’s times like this I’m actually glad Daphne and September used to drive me crazy with their Kevin Aucoin and Sam Fine obsessions during lunch. I mean seriously, any makeup artist- especially a MALE makeup artist- that can command $3500 for just one session is someone who deserves and needs to be emulated when it comes to the craft. Thankfully though, I have Cheryl with me, who also stays booked on Oscar night. It’s comforting to know that she’ll be here to guide me through that process.  

I greet both of my models for the day, and I’m delighted when they begin speaking in their chosen foreign language. Although I have to reach into the recesses of my memory to converse full-on with Manilla in Filipino, for Monet, it’s Creole, which causes me to look to Daphne. “You genius!”

She grins at me and says, “I figured since it’s close enough to French, but not quite proper it’s bound to aggravate little Ms. Plans. As for Filipino, I doubt she has ever even heard of the language.

“Problema mo ba ang matapang na asong iyon, Sweetie? (Trouble with that high sadity bitch, Sweetie)?” Manilla asks me.

“Oo, babe. Pero nature niya lang yun. Malamang, matagal na siyang bitter bitch. Hindi lang namin nakita. (Yeah, babe. But that's just her nature. Apparently, she's been a bitter bitch for a long time. We just didn't see it.)"

“Remember, Manilla? That's the uppity little madam we were all talking about last night,” Monet chimes in, before turning back to me. “For what it’s worth, while your reputation is preceding you, Justin, so is hers.”

“Oh? In what way?” This is certainly news to me, since I’ve never met any of them face-to-face even though they are world famous in their own rights.

He laughed. “While everyone backstage was jealous when Miranda came back to get me and Manilla, everyone was also determined to avoid Lindsay Peterson at all cost. Apparently, some of them caught her show with a Canadian curator and his wife some months back, while others saw her in New York drunkenly attached to the arm of Sam Aubach. Let’s just say she was not only less than mentally stable, but she was also less than gracious when she was denied whoever’s dick she was trying to ride that night at the afterparty. She left quite the impression.”

“I’ll just bet.”

“Absolutely, sweetie,” Manilla takes up the tale. “But after hearing your announcement last night about you and Brian, it wasn’t hard to take the leap as to what she’s really doing here. So all of them have decided to keep her far away from themselves and their significant others. It’s not that she has the power to break any of them up, just like she doesn’t with you and your husband. It’s that they may not have your restraint in backing the bitch up. So, since none of them want to end up in jail…”

“Point well taken,” I said, barely holding back the laughter bubbling up. “So who wants to go first?”

Manilla and Monet jokingly fought over who it was going to be, before it was decided that Manilla should since the airbrush makeup was going to take the longest to dry before putting on the Wonder Woman costume. Thankfully, the other models I’m using to create the magazine cover with other DC-themed characters are only going to need surface makeup, which Cheryl is going to prep and prime for me before I apply the shadows before their masks are applied. 

As for Monet, we decided to go with the Black Panther theme in tribute to the late Chadwick Boseman. Considering, in the comic world, it was his sister Shuri who took over the title at some point, Monet posing in the outfit will certainly do the storyline justice.

Ironically, I found the glam pics and styling the hardest to do. Since this was their area of expertise, I didn’t want to mess up. So it was my goal to stay on brand with each of them, while adding my own flair to their personal styles. I had to keep the saying ‘Covergirl don’t cover boy’ in my head while applying the foundation I chose. Because Cheryl is a 3D Special Effects makeup artist, it wasn’t hard to find exactly what I needed within her arsenal. Then applying a layer of what was in my own stash for airbrushing, and voila. Their foundations were, in a word, flawless. 

For Monet, I wanted her to resemble an African-American starlet on par with Sheryl Lee Ralph, who I’ve always found classy. If I could have, I would have thrown a little Angela Bassett in there as well, but in looks and elegance, Monet was definitely channeling her inner-Dreamgirl diva.

For Manilla… What can I say about this fashion icon? First, the gold dress we picked out was inspired! If the Emmy statue was ever to come to life, I would imagine it would have been draped just like Manilla. The gold, chain link appearance of the dress was the first thing to catch my eye. Upon closer inspection, it was actually silken gold ribbons adorned with the tiniest of crystals that created the metal effect. In between each strip was a sheer, barely-there gauze, which gave a bareskin effect, so we airbrushed her skin in between the strips of material as well to give her the sun-kissed appearance of a roman goddess. And Manilla herself brought the most fabulous gold heels that completed the look of Queen Gladiator.

As I watched the glam photoshoots taking place, all I could think in my head was Round One, Done! Your turn, Lindsay.

LINDSAY

Oh where the fuck was Michael when I needed him?! This whole superhero shit is absolutely ridiculous! No doubt they added this category because of the asshole over there, laughing it up with his team. I tried to protest the contest, only to be shut down and given the ultimatum of adhering to the rules or being disqualified. It was already enough they had given me a handicap of a sort because of the defection of Michael, but this… This was a grossly unfair situation! I know nothing about superheroes, and although I know glamor to an extent, it’s not enough in reference to working with a drag queen.

And that was another thing.

None of the other ‘queens’ wanted to work with me. Could it be that Miranda or that little bitch Daphne had gotten in their ear somehow? Someone just must have said something to them, because not one of them would take pity on me and work with me. So the other twelve of them went with other artists, while I am basically stuck with the janitor, who was the only available person on the floor at the moment. As for the glam portion of the competition, I got permission to work on myself. So I guess that’s something at least. 

But first, I have limited time to turn this guy into a superhero of some sort. 

The first thing the guy does is pull out his phone with a picture of this Chun-Li person on it. 

I have no idea where the creature is from, but I do remember Michael being pissed off at some company upping the price on some fucking idiotic video game franchise. Is that where this insipid little character is from? I don’t know, but apparently, it’s all I’ve got to work with at the moment, since this is what they are considering art nowadays. But there’s one thing bothering me about his choice, so I ask, “Why her?”

The fucking bastard, whose name is Janus, chuckles then says, “I can’t imagine you could mess her, or me, up too badly.”

I want to yell at him and slap him, but again I can’t do any of that since the braying jackass is my only hope right now. The first thing I do is take the idiot, who barely speaks English, over to the wardrobe section. After trying on several pieces, we find one that barely fits him, but it’s going to have to do. Next, I begin to prep him, but he refuses to shave any of the hair off his body, including his face. Again, I want to scream at him, but I don’t since technically he’s doing me a favor, regardless that I still had to pay him using Michael’s money. 

I really am going to kick Michael’s ass for this.

Looking at the finished product a little over an hour and a half later, I have to admit a bit of defeat. There really isn’t much more I can do to make this rendition the same caliber Justin and his team have done with their models. I suppose it’s not that bad, given the time constraints and outfit chosen. It’s just… Well, the important thing is that I got it done, right? 

The one thing I will say about Janus is that although I feel like yelling, and ripping his smiling face off, he’s at least somewhat okay about things, whereas I most certainly am not. But then, if I’d just made four-hundred and fifty dollars for a last minute modeling assignment, I guess I would too. Who knew that Janus, as the janitor in this building makes almost two hundred dollars a day for cleaning the damn building. Then figure in the standard modeling fee… Well, it’s just a good thing I found Michael’s Super Stupid wallet, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to at least make Janus into Chun-fucking-Li.

But in all of this, the biggest problem is that I ran out of time so I couldn’t even participate in the glam portion of the competition. And I’ve already been told that when it comes to tallying the final scores, I would receive a zero, since there are no marks for effort- only completion. Not for the first time I wonder just what the fuck I am doing here, but then looking at Justin’s smug face, I remember just what the stakes are…

Mrs. Lindsay Kinney, manager of Justin Taylor, Artist. 

It’s the only outcome I will accept; defeat is NOT an option!