Original Work: You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home, Chapter 8, Part 2
Chapter 8, Part 2
Eventually we made it to the building that was going to be used for the commercial shoot. From the outside it looked like it was only days away from being condemned and knocked to the ground; it was a warehouse that lacked the amount of stories that the buildings around it possessed. The windows were dingy and broken, some of them were boarded up, the bricks and planks covered with graffiti and some very interesting anatomical depictions. The door had an impossible to miss sign that demanded that everyone Keep Out but obviously we weren’t about to follow those rules.
I looked doubtfully at Linda, who gave me a reassuring smile. “A lot of people shoot in places like this because of all the space.” She informed me. “Don’t worry, the ceiling isn’t going to fall on your head.” Well, I hadn’t been worried about that before but now it was a serious concern.
The driver pulled the car around the backside of the building and there was a well-dressed, prematurely balding young man waiting outside the backdoor. We he saw the car he plastered a smile across his face and straightened his posture. “Welcome, glad you found the place okay.” He said as soon as we were moving in his direction. “I’m Paul, Ms. Sophia’s assistant.” He looked like he was going to shake our hands but decided against it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emilia.” He smiled with the eagerness of an assistant or intern hoping that he was doing everything right.
I smiled back and nodded but before I could get more personal than that, he was opening the door and ushering me inside. “They’re still setting up for the shoot so Ms. Sophia wanted me to show you to hair and makeup. She’s looking forward to meeting and working with you.”
I agreed with his words even though I’d never heard of Ms. Sophia prior to ten seconds ago and hadn’t even known that we’d be working together before this morning.
Inside the warehouse did look a little more kept up, though it still seemed ready for the demolition team. There was the occasional sheet of plastic draped across the floor or hanging down from one of the holes in the ceiling but everything seemed clean and decently taken care of, as though people did frequent the building enough to keep out the rats and anything, or anyone, else that might want to use the place for shelter. I could see chatter and bustle from somewhere in the distance as orders were being shouted and followed, the sound of equipment scraping across the floor or the clank of it being assembled.
We passed several closed doors and empty rooms as we moved closer to the noise and finally Paul the Assistant paused, knocking on the door. “Emilia’s here for you Angela.” He called through the closed door. There was a muffled response and he smiled at me as he opened the door. “Angela’s going to get you all taken care of for the shoot and when she’s done I’ll take you to wardrobe.”
The room I was ushered into didn’t look anything like it belonged in an empty warehouse but backstage at a concert or awards show. There was a chair situated in front of a large, lighted mirror and the vanity that stretched out before it was covered with a variety of makeup and hair products designed to match every skin tone and handle every type of tress. There was a woman standing in front of the mirror, checking her appearance, seeming intent to make sure that even every eyebrow hair was in place. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties and of some sort of Asian descent, though it was hard to tell only going by her reflection, seeing as her back was to us. Satisfied, she turned around and smiled warmly. “Good to see you.” She greeted as though we were actually old friends. “Have a seat and we’ll get started. I’ve got some ideas based on your complexion.” She gestured toward the chair, her eyes darting across the array of projects organized in front of her. I must have looked a little hesitate because she added, “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” and winked.
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