Chapter Fifteen - Becca
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“We?” Lucky asks.
The word hangs in the air between us.
I know I could probably make something up, tell him some little white lie about why I have to win, but I’m surprised to find that I don’t want to lie to him.
“Me and my mom.” I say it softly, but the words come out heavy.
Panic skitters up my spine—Is he going to judge me? Is this going to change what he thinks about me?—so I scoop another finger into the tube of makeup remover as a distraction.
Lucky immediately closes his eyes, giving me a second to breathe as I get back to work on his face. I don’t know if I should keep going or not, but before I can think about it too much, I open my mouth, and the truth pours out.
“My mom has a drinking problem . . . she can’t hold down a job. So, I take care of us.”
Lucky eyes pop open. “Damn, I had no idea.”
His words aren’t condescending or judgy, just surprised. The tightness in my chest eases a little. “How could you? It’s not something I advertise.”
“Right . . . I’m sorry that you have to deal with all that. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”
His earnestness makes a lump rise in my throat.
“It’s fine . . .” I say quickly, blinking at the tears that threaten the corners of my eyes. “It’s just, it’s a lot sometimes.”
“Yeah, of course, it is.”
“It wasn’t always like this. She wasn’t always like this.
” My voice cracks, and I swallow. “Everything I know about beauty I’ve learned from her.
She fell in love with makeup and fashion after seeing Pretty in Pink for the first time back when she was my age.
She had a thing for old movies, and that one was her favorite.
‘Never underestimate a girl in a pink dress—especially if she has lipstick to match!’ she used to always say.
She once told me that makeup made her feel like she could conquer the world.
She had me right after she turned nineteen, and she worked her butt off to put herself through cosmetology school.
I was always her favorite guinea pig, and she taught me everything she knew.
But the last few years, a lot has changed. ”
I let out a shuddering breath and keep going.
“Hair and makeup used to give my mom purpose. It used to fill the void of her past pains, but it doesn’t anymore.
Now, it’s a different man each week and a daily visit to the liquor store.
Most of the time, she feels like a stranger.
I just wish she would get some help. She’s not a bad person, and things have been hard for her the last few years. I just . . . I just miss her.”
The old, familiar ache that I’ve carried for years gnaws at my heart. I should be used to it, and in so many ways I am, but there’s still a sharpness to it, an edge that steals my breath every single time.
I wait until I can form words again. “I still have makeup, though—in a way. I don’t enjoy it like I used to, but it’s still there. It may have failed my mother but, so far, it’s the only thing in my life that hasn’t failed me.”
“And your dad?”
“He left us when I was a baby. I don’t even know where he is now, and he certainly doesn’t care about what happens to us. Never has. But it doesn’t matter now. He’s been out of the picture my whole life, and I guess you can’t really miss what you never had.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucky says again. This time his fingers skim across my arm. It’s the lightest of touches, meant to comfort, but warmth blazes across my skin.
“So the makeup videos?” he continues. “Was it a way to take your mind off everything?”
I shake my head. “It didn’t start like that. Really, I just loved makeup, and I thought it would be fun to make content about it. But then my accounts started to grow, and my platform blew up, and everything changed.”
Tension stretches across my shoulder blades, and I let out a low breath.
“I feel all this pressure, all the time. Pressure to support my family, but pressure from my audience, too. There’s this weird sense of expectation and obligation.
People expect me to do certain things and be a certain way, and when I don’t do or act the way they think I’m supposed to, they’re real quick to tell me how much I’ve disappointed them.
It’s like my own feelings don’t even matter.
Like I’m not even a human. I’m an influencer and that’s it.On top of that, I’m made to feel like I owe them something for supporting my content.
It’s like my time and the effort I put into the videos isn’t enough anymore.
They want more and more and more. Nothing I do feels like enough, and as hard as I try, I can’t please everyone. It’s exhausting, you know?”
Lucky’s eyes go unfocused, and he shivers, as if for a moment, he’s somewhere else. I wonder if he’s thinking about his accident.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I do know . . . but if you feel that way, why don’t you just quit?”
If only it were that simple. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think I can.
Without Smoke and Makeup Mirrors, I’ve got nothing.
Aside from needing the money, makeup’s the only thing I’m good at.
I’ve never really wanted to go to college, never really felt like an academic environment was the best fit.
It’s not that I’m not smart or anything like that, it’s just not right for me.
Beyond that, I don’t know how Mom and I would make it without my platform.
It’s why we have to win this competition, Lucky. ”
“Oh, we will,” he says confidently. “We’re Team Bucky, remember? There’s nothing we can’t do.”
I snort and roll my eyes, but the relief of finally telling someone—telling Lucky—how I feel is so strong, it nearly overwhelms me.
“Come on,” I say, my smile returning. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”