Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 227

Abby

We exit hair and makeup, and I can’t help but feel like an impostor beneath this mask of perfectly-caked makeup. Just like yesterday, it feels like an uncomfortable facade, a porcelain mask covering the real Abby. I can’t help but wonder to myself: why is this amount of makeup necessary for a cooking show? Shouldn’t my abilities be judged, not my face?

I glance over at Karl as we walk out of the hair and makeup room. He’s still wearing his blue surgical mask, but the makeup that I can see on his face is much lighter than mine.

“Geez, Abby,” he says as he looks at me. “You like like a…”

“Don’t,” I hiss. I don’t want to think about it, not now. Instead, I focus my attention on my chef’s jacket. The fabric is stiff and a little itchy from the starching they put it through to look ‘camera-perfect’, much unlike my own uniform, which is comfortably worn down after years of use.

“Need help with that?” Karl offers, his own jacket already perfectly buttoned.

“No, I’ve got it,” I snap, my nerves fraying. But after another failed attempt, I relent. “Okay, maybe I don’t ‘got it’. Please help.”

Karl moves to button my jacket with a precision that borders on surgical. “There,” he says, stepping back to examine his handiwork. “Perfect.”

But I don’t feel perfect; I feel like I’m about to come apart at the seams.

“Three minutes!” a production assistant yells from down the hall, waving a clipboard frantically.

Three minutes. The weight of the entire morning—the mad dash, the almost-car crash, the last-minute change in sous chefs—crashes down on me.

My hands are shaking and my heart is pounding, this damn makeup is too thick and cakey, and this stupid uniform is too stiff and itchy. I feel like a prisoner in my own body right now.