by Nicole Falls
After disconnecting from the FaceTime call, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d gotten myself into.
***
“Anastacia Marie, come on! How in the hell are you the one running behind if this is your job?” I yelled out to Stace who had been in the bathroom perfecting her highlight for the past fifteen minutes.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she sassed back as she sauntered out in sky high heels, painted on jeans and what I think was a shirt, but I wasn’t completely sure because it dipped low enough in front to show all of Cleveland and the back was nonexistent. I looked down at what I thought was a cute outfit—floral bomber jacket, pristine white v-neck and dark denim jeans with a cognac colored heeled bootie and wondered if I was somehow underdressed.
“Ok did I miss a memo or…?”
“Nope,” Stacie chirped, “Ready?”
Sighing I trailed Stace, locking up and walking slightly behind her to the garage. We decided that we’d take my car, but she would drive since she was more familiar with the area of town where the shoot would take place. I’d forgotten what a hellion my baby sis was behind the wheel, so that drive was twenty minutes of torture as she darted between cars in traffic, yelling and blowing her horn at anyone who was actually driving within the bounds of the speed limit. When we finally pulled into the parking lot of the creative lofts—on two wheels, it felt like—I took my time getting out of the car, sending up a swift prayer of thanks to God for getting us there safely and on time.
Since I was arriving with Stacie, I was there a bit before the rest of the girls who would be a part of the shoot. While I waited to be glammed and then filmed, I scrolled Instagram. I don’t even know why I bothered since that darn app was the reason I spent hours arguing with Kev. He got bent out of shape because I was tagged in a photo on a night when I told him I didn’t feel like being bothered. The fact was that I didn’t feel like being bothered with his ass. He was fresh off a round of rejection emails and not the best company.
I’d had a rough day at work and needed to blow off some steam, so I called my best friend Mo to go to happy hour. Mo invited her twin brother Maurice and what was supposed to be a low key happy hour with a few drinks consumed ended up being a bar crawl that kept me out for most of the night. At some point the night we ended up at Mo and Maurice’s apartment where I passed out. Mo had uploaded a pic of me knocked out on her couch, halfway sprawled across Maurice who was also out of it with the caption “Bro and sis (in-law if she would quit playin’) slumped…
Monica had been my best friend since kindergarten when she walked up to me and said she had to be friends with me because we were both wearing pink. I’m sure half of the little girls in that classroom were wearing pink, but Mo singled me out for a reason and we’d been inseparable ever since. The twins, Stacie, and I were constantly getting into shenanigans as kids. Even though Stace was two years younger than us, we’d still let her ride out on our dummy missions throughout most of high school. We parted ways when it was time to go off to undergrad since I had to stay local due to financial constraints and the twins had gotten full ride academic scholarships to Spelhouse.
I visited them a few times in Atlanta, but not too many; so I was excited when first Maurice, then Monica moved back home. Mo and I picked up right where we had left off; my time spent with Maurice was infrequent because Kevin didn’t believe that we were just friends. He was convinced that Reese was lying in wait for me to be single so he could pounce. Meanwhile I knew for a fact that he was not checking for me at all. Monica loved preying on Kev’s insecurity and stirring the pot though, which is why she’d posted that photo.
My scrolling had brought it across my timeline once again and I had to smile at it. We did look mighty cozy—my head was tucked just under Reese’s chin, face nestled into the crook of his neck while one of his arms wrapped around the front of my body to rest upon my lower back. At some point Mo must’ve woken up Reese to move me from the couch because the next morning I remembered waking up in their guest room, sprawled out like Patrick from Spongebob—straight starfish style.
“You and Reese would be so cute, sis! I don’t know why you playin’ and staying with Kevin’s lackluster lame ass. He can’t even get a job, Leci.”
“Don’t start, Anastacia Marie.”
“Fiiiiiine, Alecia Nicole. You ready to get glammed?”
I hadn’t noticed but a couple other ladies had joined me in the waiting area and their faces were all impeccably beat. I guess I was the last one.
“Let’s do this!” I said, getting up and following Stacie. When we reached the area where the makeup artists were stationed, I noticed that there were a couple cameras and a boom mic in the area. I assumed that they were probably going to ask me a few questions about the products as my face was being done. I walked toward the chair in front of the vanity, but barely got two steps before Stacie grabbed my arm.
“So, I didn’t tell you the whole truth about this shoot, sissy. But…in my defense…if I had, I’m certain you would not have agreed. And I know you wouldn’t embarrass me and pull out now, so I just don’t want you to be blindsided when you sat down and they started interviewing you.”
A swirling sensation built in the pit of my stomach that usually preceded something terrible being unveiled. I steeled myself and asked, “So what did you leave out?”
Stacie motioned to the make up artist with a single finger indicating she needed a moment with me, then ushered me down a nearby hallway before letting out a huge sigh on an exhale.
“Come on, little dude. Spit it out.”
“So…you know PuckerUp recently revamped their Everlast formula?”
“Mmmhmm…” I prodded.
“So, the purpose of this shoot is to prove that the lip color will stay no matter what it endures…”
“Okay…”
“…and so. Okay, before I say promise me you won’t yell.”
“I cannot promise that.”
“Fair enough. Just promise me you won’t yell too long, then.”
“Can’t promise that either, so just spit it out.”
“Well…you’re kindagonnahavetokissastrangerorsomething.”
“Excuse me?”
“Anastacia, do we have a problem?” a velvety smooth voice interrupted before Stace could repeat herself.
I turned slightly to see a very tall and handsome brother, looking at baby sis with a sneer of disapproval.
She flushed before quickly composing herself and turning slowly on her heel to answer, “Nope, Dean…I mean Mr. Taylor, we’re all good,” she turned back to me continuing, “Miss Mocha just had a quick case of the nerves, right? But I think we’ve got it all sorted out now, right?” Her eyes widened comically as she silently pleaded with me not to mess this up for her.
So this was Dean Taylor, chief marketing officer and current object of my sister’s incessant crush since she began this internship. Baby sis had good taste because the brother was capital f Fine. Smooth, burnished skin, a well kept, but slightly overgrown beard and waves that damn near made me seasick. Hell if I didn’t know everything about this dude thanks to Stace’s chatter about him every chance she got, I would have mistaken him for one of those Instabaes everyone stays thirsting after.
“I...” I cleared my throat and began again, “I’m ready now. Anastacia just had to talk me off the ledge. I’m good now.”
I walked away from the two of them toward the vanity and slowly sank into the chair. As Stacie made her way through the space to check on another of the women in the shoot, I noticed Dean’s gaze glued to her every step. Looks like baby sis wasn’t the only one crushing.
The makeup artist was a local one I’d been following on Instagram for a while and she was like goddamn Picasso with the brushes, so if I got nothing else out of today it would be a supreme beat.
“You look like you’d rather be any place than here, sis,” she said, approaching the chair where I sat, “I’m Rayven…and hopefully by the time I finis
h your makeup, you’ll have lost that scowl.”
***
As I sat in the chair, getting my face beat by Rayven, a young, blonde woman with a pinched facial expression and a walk like a stick was in her hindquarters approached us with a camera man not far behind.
“Alicia?”
“Actually, it’s ah-lee-see-ah. You can just call me Leci, though. It’ll make both of our lives much easier.”
She nodded curtly and continued, “Right. So, while Rachel here is doing your makeup, I’m just gonna ask you a few questions. I’ll be off camera, but Pedro here will be filming you for the lead up to the big moment. If you don’t have any questions for me, we can begin now.”
Judging from the appearance and her clear dismissal of those around her that she considered inconsequential, I’m guessing this is “the other Stacey” that my sister has complained about since her first day at the agency. This woman was the reason why my sister was known around the office as Anastacia instead of her preference of the shortened version of her name. This woman was also behind the sabotage of Dean’s latte and every other misfortune at work that has befallen my sister, if you let her tell it. “White Stacey has it out for me,” was a common refrain from baby sis’ mouth.
I inclined my head slightly for her to proceed. Before she could ask the first question, the cameraman interrupted. He put his camera down to his side, extending a hand toward mine. We quickly shook hands as he introduced himself in a low voice.
“Hey, I’m Carlos. We’re trying to make this feel as casual as possible, so I’ll be moving around shooting you from different angles. The only direction I have for you is not to look directly into the camera or at me. We want this to feel super organic and not as staged as it actually is, so I’ll be in constant motion, trying to get candid looking shots. Just ignore me and just answer White Stacey’s questions and we’ll be all good.”
I stifled a giggle at his mention of “White Stacey” and nodded, “You got it.”
“Okay, if the meet and greet portion of the day is over, we can get started,” White Stacey said, brusquely. We quickly breezed through a series of questions asking me about my preferred make-up brands and what made me decide to use Pucker Up exclusively. I suppose my answers were sufficient as White Stacey rarely asked a follow up.
“All right, we have one last question, then Anastacia will take you to the soundstage where the main part of the video is being filmed. So…what would you say are the ingredients for a perfect kiss?”
I paused for a second to think before giving my answer.
“Well…chemistry for one. Nothing is worse than locking lips with someone and that spark isn’t there. And we women also need a little something on our lips that make them look irresistible to our mates. Like Pucker Up Everlast lip creme in Rev It Up—the perfect shade of red. Whenever I wear that my guy can’t keep his lips off mine.”
“Perfect. Thank you. Anastacia will be over for you shortly.”
I was still stewing a little bit from Stacie springing this kiss a stranger thing on me at the last minute. Of course I wouldn’t have done it if she lead with that little tidbit, because who in the hell willingly signs up to swap spit with a rando for a major brand’s viral video? Certainly not someone who was already on shaky ground in her relationship anyway. Shit. Kevin…
I guess I should have been warning Kevin about what I was up to today instead of him coming across it on the Internet…or someone sending it to him. The last thing I needed was him coming across something with me on social media again. I was still kind of upset with Mo for pulling that IG stunt because it’s given him ammo to throw up in my face for the past two weeks. While I was waiting on Stace, I decided to FaceTime Kevin. Let me get in front of the bullshit this time. The call connected quickly, but the image on screen wasn’t Kev’s face, but a ceiling.
“Shit!” I could hear him try to whisper, unsuccessfully.
“Well good morning to you, too.”
He scrambled to right the phone and point it toward his face when I noticed something in the background that piqued my interest. There were pink flamingo printed pillows flanking his head.
“Where…are you?” I asked.
Before he could answer, a squeaky voice came through the line “Did you say cream or no cream, babe?”
Kevin froze with a stupid look on his face. At the sound of that voice I knew exactly where he was and felt like an idiot. All of this time I’d been trying to hold onto what we had, fighting to make things work and he…just fell back into familiar fuck boy behavior.
“Well, babe. Are you gonna answer?”
“Lec…”
“Nope. Just…nah, I’m not doing this again. Lose my number…permanently this time. I’m serious, Kevin. We…I don’t even know why I continue to let you do this to me,” I whispered, angrily.
I felt the tears welling up, but refused to let them fall because I was not letting this fool see me cry over him yet again nor was I going back over to Rayven and asking her to fix the wondrous creation that was my face right now. I raised my voice a little to respond to that voice on the other end of the line, “He doesn’t take cream, Kelli. His widdle tummy can’t handle it.” And with those words I disconnected the call and…from Kevin completely.
Here I was getting ready to ply him with mea culpas and apologies galore and he was immediately up under a chick that he swore meant nothing to him. She meant nothing, yet she was the one who kept constantly appearing when infidelity reared its ugly head in our relationship. Kevin was so convinced that I was the one up to no good, but I learned that was only because his ass was laying it low and spreading Kelli the dog walker wide.
And the thing that burned me up the most about this situation was not that she was a white girl because…whatever for that…but that she was…average. Nothing about the girl was special—she had dishwater blonde hair, unremarkable brown eyes, and an overbite. Like…if you’re gonna fuck around on me dude at least pick a bad bitch. My goodness. She was annoyingly mediocre looking. Maybe she had a heart of gold or detachable jaw that allowed her to swallow “Little Kevin” whole. I’m not sure, but whatever she had Kevin was lapping up in spades.
This was my final straw though. I was completely done with him now. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me four times…and now I just look dumb as hell. Thankfully, prayerfully, no one in my inner circle knew anything about his indiscretions past time one—which is when they all tried to get me to leave him behind. I was blinded by love…and zat zick. Kev had been my one and only, but he definitely managed to make sure I had a good time…every time. But…that was all in the past now. He and “Little Kevin” were soon to be a distant memory.
Stacie walked up just as I was in the process of blocking his number.
“Ready, Leci…hey, are you good?”
“Let’s just go.”
“But…”
“I said let’s go!”
“Ooooookay then…”
We walked down the same hallway that Stace broke the news to me a bit earlier in silence. I was steeling myself, trying to get a grasp on my emotions before I completely broke down and Stacie…? She walked—no, glided—alongside me with a ridiculous grin splitting her face, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Before we opened the doors that led to the soundstage, Stacie grabbed my wrist.
“Before you go in here, you should know something…” she started.
“Here we go again. What, am I actually kissing a male pig and not a human male?” I asked with a roll of my eyes.
“No, I’m being serious,” Stacie whined, before checking herself and changing the tone of her voice, “You should know that you really saved my ass big time and upped my credibility. Dean hasn’t stopped praising my efficiency and organizational skills all morning.”
“That isn’t the only thing he’s been praising this morning,” I replied, gesturing toward her now smeared lipstick, “I’m guessing you aren’t wearing one of the client’s samples…”
Stacie just smirked and opened the door to the soundstage.
“After you, sissy…”
***
The moment of truth was upon me. I stood to one side of the soundstage and whatever mystery man I was going to be kissing was on the other. Neither side was well lit, the only light in the area was focused on the middle where the camera would capture of meeting, exchanging pleasantries, and then...possibly sucking face for the first time. The longer I stood here, the more keyed up with nervous energy I became. Despite my greatest efforts at squinting to make out the figure across the room, I had no idea what he looked like. He just appeared to be significantly taller than me—which was no great feat, honestly, since I’d stopped growing vertically in the 7th grade.
Stacie, who had wandered off shortly after showing me my mark from which I’d walk, reappeared with White Stacey by her side. Both were wearing twin smirks, which struck me as kinda odd.
“You ready?” Stacie asked.
Before I could answer, the sound of the slate closing which was my cue sounded. I took a deep breath before slowly walking toward the x in the middle of the floor where I was to meet my make out partner. The stage was eerily quiet, as the only sound I heard was the clicking of my booties as I took carefully measured steps towards my partner. I tended to walk with my head slightly down naturally—precaution of being a clumsy kid—which worked to my disadvantage currently. Reaching the x, I lifted my head to take a good look at my partner and immediately gasped.
Smiling, I extended a hand in his direction, “Hi, I’m Leci.”
He grabbed my hand, placing a kiss on it before replying, “Reese.”
At the touch of his lips upon the top of my hand, I jerked back slightly. That’s new, I thought. I mean Reese and I had touched countless times before and I’d never felt…like I needed to change my undies and go sit somewhere with my knees crossed until just now. The brief contact of his lips against my hand set off a frisson of energy that was a little overwhelming. The smirk that covered his mouth as he looked at me let me know that he felt it too.
