Chapter 34 #2
“I wouldn’t do that,” she says quietly. “It’s…
you saw my friend Morgan. She had a… a bad reaction to taking suppressants for too long.
I just… I wouldn’t want you to go through that, too.
” She lowers her hand and offers me the pill bottle.
“It’s up to you, obviously. Just… if the doc says to stop taking them, maybe take it seriously. ”
I take the bottle, kind of feeling like an ass. “Thanks, I guess. Sorry about your friend. I’m fine, though.” To prove my point, I tap a pill into my palm, then knock it back. “Let’s get to work—”
A violent wave of nausea and pain surges through my body, and I double over.
“Mylo—” Christine gently reaches down and straightens me, pulling me against her chest.
Her scent soothes my frayed nerves, and I let her wrap her arms around me, reluctant to admit how comforting that pressure is.
When I can breathe normally again, Christine loosens her grip.
“Mylo, it’s obviously hurting you…”
“How the fuck else am I going to make it through the end of filming?” I hiss. “If you have any genius ideas, I’m all ears.”
Christine takes a breath to say something, then sighs.
“If I need to be fine, then I’m fine,” I say, bitterness edging into my voice. “Don’t overthink it. Some of us are used to not getting what we want.”
She scoffs. “You really think I get everything I want?”
I gesture at the new motorcycle. “Uh, yeah! Kinda looks like it!”
“If you had any idea of the morning I’ve had—”
“Then I’d have yet another reason to wish I’d been born an alpha. So don’t mind me if I’m totally disinterested in your Freaky Friday proposal.”
Christine goes cold. “You have a chip on your shoulder the size of a mountain.”
Fury boils under my skin. “Do you know of a single om—” I catch myself and drop my volume. “A single person like me in this industry?!”
She’s quiet for a moment. “No.”
“Right. So I’m gonna cope however I’m gonna cope. Thanks for your concern.” I spit the last words over my shoulder, heading back into the studio.
I know I’m overreacting, but I’m nauseous, I’m in pain, and she has no fucking business looking that hot.
CHRISTINE
I watch Mylo disappear into the studio, and my petty streak seethes. I’m going to make him pay for that.
Mylo’s right about one thing: I’m a good liar. It’s a consolation prize; there’d have been no need to lie if I’d done a better job of keeping my mouth shut in the first place.
I don’t like seeing how much he’s struggling to keep his meds down. He’s not eating enough either.
My brain churns, putting forth an earnest effort toward one of those ‘genius ideas’ Mylo accused me of having, and I’m still lost in thought as I step into my dressing room.
My makeup artist, Lisa, perks as she sees me.
“There you are!” She’s a curvy French woman in her late forties, though she doesn’t look a day over thirty-five.
Her short, dark bob never has a hair out of place, and her drive for perfection hints at her experience with Parisian fashion shows.
Other than working with me, she owns a makeup brand with a focus on plus-size models.
We’ve been working together since my first feature film, where we bonded over being outside the bounds society sets for women.
“Ran into some fans when I was leaving the hotel, sorry about that. Don’t tattle on me to Lana?”
Lisa smiles. “You’re lucky I’m fast.”
“You’re literally the best.” I sink into my chair, and Lisa gets to work.
It’s nearly impossible to sit still. My foot taps against the makeup chair, and Lisa works skillfully around my fidgeting.
Once my makeup and hair are done, she helps me get suited up for the day. The gauntlets I used to wear with pride now feel like shackles. I close my eyes and remember the moments that anchor me to Electra:
A little beta girl stands in the toy aisle, telling her mother proudly that she’s going to be tall and strong like Electra one day.
A fan at a comic convention tells me she watched Electra on repeat when she was recovering from brain surgery, and it gave her the determination to learn to walk again.
The screenwriter cries at the premiere, seeing a story that meant so much to her fully come to life.
Haley looks at me with sincere awe, and it makes me want to be the mentor she deserves.
Mylo as Melinoe is pinned under my arm, pupils widening as he realizes he’s about to get the fucking he’s been begging for…
A wave of heat jolts me out of my thoughts, leaving me restless. At least that energy’s been good for shooting. Lana’s over the moon at—what did she call it? The subtle and paradoxical layers of Electra’s mental state blending into a portrait of inner conflict. Something like that.
Lisa glances at me through the mirror as she stacks her makeup palettes.
“How’re you doing, Tee? Really?”
A lie rests on the tip of my tongue, but I sigh it away. “I’ve been better.”
“Is it… something to do with Mylo?”
I force my breath to continue smoothly. “What about Mylo?”
Lisa lets slip a smooth, sly smile. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Tee. Just know I’m here for you if you ever want to talk. And… I always remember exactly where I left my supplies.”
I can practically hear the sound of them scattering as I throw Mylo across the makeup table.
There’s another flash of heat through my body, and a blush rises to my cheeks.
I watch Lisa clock it.
“Fuuuck,” I groan, putting my face in my hands as Lisa giggles.
“Oh, young love,” she teases, lightly pinching my cheek.
I swat at her harmlessly.
“Okay, first of all—” I lower my hands, folding my arms. “—I’m no spring chicken.”
“Oh, please,” Lisa chuckles. “You’re in your prime. Don’t make me feel like a dinosaur.”
“Second of all—” I level a finger at her. “—it’s not love.”
“Whatever you want to tell yourself, chérie.”