Perfect Illusion

Thirteen - "An Alternate Ending."

I am now sitting on one of those cool chairs tv stars and film directors usually sit, waiting patiently as a girl does my hair and another does my makeup.

I don't know why I'm here. Okay perhaps I know why I'm here but I don't know if I even want to be here. I feel so out of place.

I watch silently as producers run back and forth on set, barking out orders to the backstage crew. I'm almost blinded by the huge stage lights flickering back and forth on stage and off. My eyes blink, and the girl who is doing my makeup curses.

"Sorry," I mumble. My mascara is now smeared and she has to redo it. The other girl doing my hair casts me a sympathetic look as my makeup artist tilts my head up harshly and wipes the disaster that is my face away.

It's been half an hour since Daniel practically forced me to do this stupid interview. Don't get me wrong, I did put up a good fight as to why I didn't want to do it. I was never good in public speaking, and just the thought of some stranger asking me multiple questions I probably don't have the answers to in front of multiple cameras scares the crap out of me. And since we arrived to the studio late, there is no time for a run through either so our interview has to be done unscripted.

My heart pounds.

After my makeup and hair is done, my little helpers guide me to the standing mirror not far away from the dressing table. I gasp slightly. I don't recognize the girl staring back at me. She looks just like me- the same cheekbones, lips, and eyes. The difference is that her pale cheeks are now pinched with colour, her eyes smouldering with the touch of eyeshadow, her lips brushed over with a hot red lipstick.

Damn.

The girl staring back at me is hot.

Her hair is pulled back into a slick ponytail, with loose strands of hair falling over the sides of her face. She wears a beautiful cocktail dress that brings out her curves, and tall glittery heels to complement her outfit. The gold one-piece necklace above her chest creates the finishing touch of her look—like a bow on top of a present.

I can't believe the girl is actually me. I squint my eyes for a while as if I can't quite really process it.

I'm hot now.

Like Cara hot.

Suddenly skipping classes just to do this interview doesn't seem so scandalous after all if it means me looking like this for the rest of the day.

A small laugh escapes my lips.

"Ah there you are," One of the backstage crew calls out of me. I think his name is Rudy. He flashes a smile at me as he saunters towards me, an earpiece slung over the side of his face to his lips and a clipboard at hand. "You are the soon to be Mrs. Kerrington, am I correct?"

I almost forgot people expect me to be marrying Daniel. My face falls slightly, but I quickly replace it with a forced smile. "Um yes."

"You look beautiful," He gushes. "Totally TV star worthy."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, darling." He glances at his clipboard and ushers me to another place. "Show's about to air live in five minutes. You okay?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to be nervous. Charlize will make you feel very comfortable on set, so don't worry."

I gulp. My head nods.

"Great," He says. Then, he turns around slowly and murmurs something in his earpiece. Facing me again, he continues on. "So Mr. Kerrington will be entering first. Charlize will be asking him some questions. After a while, she will say, 'Let's have a look at your new fiancé!' That's where you come on. I'll give you the signal and then you will enter to join your beau."