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“You look good,” I tell her, and I can see a light spark up in her.
“You think?” she asks, hesitant. “I’m worried it’s too much.”
“No, definitely not. You look perfect.”
She’s just had her makeup done for the incoming interview photoshoot. A makeup artist ushered her into a side room and applied it on her when we walked in – a completely new experience for Josie.
To be fair, she was freaking out in the car ride over to the interview, constantly peppering me with incessant questions about what to do and what was about to happen, but – as I told her - she needs to understand that she’s going to have to get used to this. This is my life. This kind of stuff is what I wake up and do every single day. She’s got to take part in all the hoopla of makeup and costume fittings and long photoshoots if she’s to be my fake girlfriend.
Plus, she doesn’t need to prepare for anything. She’s perfect as she is. I wish she would see that.
It’s right that I’m approving of the work the makeup artist has done - Josie looks gorgeous. It’s only a light touch of makeup, but it fits the barista without a flaw.
She is so pretty...
I curse myself under my breath. Turns out, I’m an animal. I can’t help myself but view Josie as a hot-blooded male. Looking at her being so radiant, I have to keep my hard-on hidden in my pants. I could easily devour Josie right here and now if I gave in to my impulses.
Fuck me, Victor. You can’t keep your dick in check for one minute, can you?
I glance around at the photoshoot location instead, keeping my eyes off the pretty face in front of me.
We’re in some kind of warehouse. It’s one of those abandoned ones on the outskirts of the city, kept in this state purposely for cool and trendy photoshoots and rave parties. Bright LA sunlight streams through broken windows, creating a warm atmosphere. Rusty machinery and piles of rubble scatter around. Artistic graffiti covers the walls in big blocks of writing. Around us, people are getting the photoshoot ready. Lights are being put into position. Props are being checked. Cameras are being set up. It’s a whole operation just for a few pages in a magazine.
Evelyn organized all of this for us. Even though she is too busy to physically be with us today, she sent through the details to my phone.
She sends me another message.
Are you sure you’re okay without me there?
I’m sure, Evelyn. I’m a big boy. I don’t need you holding my hand through everything.
Sometimes I think you do, Victor.
She likes to treat me like a child, even though I am her boss.
“This is a... lot,” Josie whispers to me as I pocket my phone, eyeing up the small army of people employed to prepare the warehouse space just for us.
“This is the industry,” I whisper back, quiet enough that no one else can hear. “This is what comes with the territory of being a big star. Big photoshoots take more time and more manpower than people realize.”
“Yep.”
I can tell Josie is scared and intimidated by all of this.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She just nods and purses her lips.
An intern rushes up to us, panic on her face.
“We’re ready for you two, Victor and Josie.”
“Perfect,” I reply with a smile. Unruffled, unlike my fake girlfriend.
We follow the intern to another woman standing by the cameras. She’s waiting for us. Unlike the panicked crewmembers running around all over the joint, she looks like she is in command here. Her face flips from business mode to celebrity ass-licking the moment she spots me.
“Ah, Victor, lovely to meet you. I’m Van, your interviewer today.”
Yes. She’s the one Evelyn told me about - the celebrity journalist who’s going to ask us a billion questions. Evelyn warned me about this woman’s abrupt and penetrative line of questioning. She’s got a reputation for hard-hitting interviews.
