Chapter 7
7
Iris was positive that she’d never seen so many people in one place. And she’d certainly never heard so much screaming .
The Refine store on Rodeo Drive was filled to the brim with Angel’s fans who packed the space and spilled outside onto the sidewalk. The crowd consisted mainly of people in their late teens and early twenties, mostly women, but some seemed to be around Iris’s age or a little older. The playlist that Angel had curated played overhead. People took turns posing beside his life-size cutouts. Influencers were easy to spot as they held up their phones, recording everything. Iris hoped the night would go off without a hitch and that the influencers wouldn’t have anything negative to post. But right now, they seemed happy. The giddiness in the room was palpable.
Iris stood at the register in the center of the store, holding a mic in her hand, waiting for a break in the pandemonium so that she could quickly give her opening spiel before introducing Angel. He obviously needed no introduction, but there had to be some sort of order to these things. Angel, the reason for the screaming, stood to Iris’s left. He wore a slim-fitting white T-shirt underneath an oversize dark blue denim jacket with matching jeans. A pair of sunglasses were pushed up onto his head. He grinned at the crowd, almost boyishly. A foot or two behind Angel stood his hulking bodyguard, Ray. His gaze was laser trained on the crowd. He wore a black suit and kept his arms crossed in front of him. He looked fierce and imposing now, but earlier when Iris had spoken to him in the hotel lobby, he’d been downright jovial, joking that by the end of the tour, he’d probably become a makeup influencer.
Despite Ray’s current steely outward appearance, Iris could tell by the energy in the store that one of Angel’s fans would be willing to face off with Ray in order to get to Angel.
As the shouting continued, Iris looked around for assistance. Bree, who was joining her this week, was recording videos of the crowd for Save Face Beauty’s social media accounts. The Refine employees scurried through the thicket of fans, obviously overwhelmed by foot traffic. The store manager, Danica, was too busy gazing at Angel to take control of the crowd.
Finally, Iris put her fingers in her mouth and whistled like a sports coach, right into the mic. Suddenly, the room fell silent. Hundreds of curious eyes swiveled in her direction.
“Hi,” she said, clearing her throat. “Thank you so much for coming to hear about Save Face Beauty’s new skincare line. I’m so excited to introduce our brand ambassador, Angel—”
Her voice was drowned out by another round of intense cheers. Sheesh. She’d barely said more than three sentences before they’d started up again. Was this what Angel dealt with all the time? He lifted his hands, calling for quiet, and miraculously, his fans listened.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and he nodded, motioning for her to continue.
“Today, the first one hundred people who purchase a special edition Save Face Beauty skincare bundle will get a picture with Angel and a signed autograph.” More screaming. Iris silently counted to five before plowing on. “In this skincare bundle, you’ll receive face wash, moisturizer and SPF.” She picked up each container as she spoke, turning them in her hands to show the audience. “Now I’m going to get out of the way and let Angel say hello to you.”
She held the mic toward Angel. He stepped forward and Iris quickly moved off to the side, taking the spot beside Bree, grateful to resume her usual place behind the scenes.
“What’s up, y’all?” Angel said.
More screaming. Lots more. The odds of Iris having a migraine in the morning were increasing by the second.
“So, I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t really think much about skincare until very recently,” he said, and his fans laughed. “But I’ve learned that skincare is something we should all incorporate into our daily routine. These Save Face Beauty products are clean, vegan, and cruelty-free, which is something I can get down with. And just so y’all don’t think I’m lying, I have been using the products, and I can say that my skin definitely feels smoother.” He grinned as he caressed the sides of his face. Iris watched as several fans visibly swooned. She felt the corners of her mouth turn up. He knew how to work a room.
“Show us how you apply the products!” a fan shouted.
Angel chuckled. “Oh, so y’all want to make sure that I know what I’m talking about?” The audience cheered, and Angel nodded. “Okay, okay.”
He reached for the face wash, and a seed of apprehension sprouted in Iris’s stomach. Demonstrating the products was not part of the agenda.
“What’s he doing?” she whispered to Bree. “He’s not supposed to actually use the products here. And why is he starting with the face wash? We don’t have anything for him to wet or dry his face with!”
Bree shrugged and laughed nervously. “I don’t know. Do you want me to stop him?”
“One thing to know about Angel is that he has a hard time saying no,” Ray explained, appearing out of nowhere, keeping his eyes on Angel as he spoke. “Especially when it comes to his fans.”
Behind the register, Angel lifted his cleanser-dipped fingers to his face, and Iris hurried to intervene.
“Here, let me help you,” she said, grabbing a wad of cotton pads from behind the register. She wiped off Angel’s fingers, and he smiled at her quizzically but didn’t resist her hold. “We’re actually going to start with the moisturizer today.”
“Oh, sorry.” Angel glanced toward the crowd. “Looks like I needed some help.”
His fans laughed as Iris placed the moisturizer onto the counter in front of him. She began to step away again, but then she held back a shriek as he used three fingers to scoop out an unnecessarily generous portion.
“Too much, way too much,” she mumbled, grabbing more cotton pads to wipe his fingers again. She pivoted her face toward his so that the audience couldn’t read her lips. To him, she whispered, “Is this how you’ve been applying the moisturizer?”
He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, why?”
“Oh goodness,” she said.
Angel laughed, his whole face lighting up. “Uh-oh.”
“You only need a decent amount on your fingertips,” Iris said, unable to hide her own smile. She used the pad of her middle finger to gather some moisturizer, and then lightly dotted Angel’s forehead, the center of both cheeks and his chin. “And you want to rub it in slowly, like this.”
Her voice picked up over the mic, and Angel remained perfectly still as Iris gently rubbed in the moisturizer. Angel’s skin was mostly smooth, and his complexion was even. His skin looked good in pictures but so many images of celebrities were altered, so Iris had no way of knowing what was real. There was a small pimple on his right cheek and another on the bottom of his chin. Angel was beautiful. That much was obvious. But it relieved her to know that in this small way, he had flaws too, like everyone else.
She leaned back, double-checking that she’d applied the product effectively, and when she brought her eyes to his and noticed how closely he was watching her, she felt her cheeks warm.
“What’s next?” he asked quietly.
“The SPF.” She pivoted sideways to face the crowd. “You want to make sure that you apply SPF to your face and neck every day. The great thing about our SPF is that it leaves no white cast.”
She handed the SPF bottle to Angel, but he shook his head and gestured toward her.
“You’re the expert,” he said, mouth curving into a grin.
“Not an expert, just a company representative.” But she picked up the bottle and applied the SPF to Angel’s face as well. Then she rubbed it onto his neck. She brushed her fingers over his Adam’s apple and it bobbed as he swallowed. Her fingertips were buzzing.
He tilted the mic away from his mouth and lowered his voice. “Am I doing a good job?”
She glanced up. “Yes, of course.”
She lowered her gaze as she refocused on his skin. But she heard the smile in his voice. “Thanks. I’m glad I have your stamp of approval.”
That made her laugh. “Well, my approval doesn’t really matter.”
Satisfied that she’d thoroughly applied the SPF, she stepped away and screwed the cap back onto the bottle.
“Sure, it does,” he said.
He was still smiling at her when she looked at him again. To be the recipient of such a smile was enough to make a person dizzy. It had the power to hypnotize. Distantly, somewhere far off in the back of her mind, Iris remembered that she and Angel were standing in front of at least a hundred people, with even more waiting outside, eager to get a chance to see him.
She blinked and forced herself to pull her gaze away. She waved to the store manager, Danica, who jogged over immediately. “We’re all good to start the signing now,” Iris said.
The Refine employees tried their best to make a single-file line throughout the store. The loud chatter of Angel’s fans created a constant buzzing in the room. Iris and Bree worked to make sure that the line moved at a steady pace, while Angel was positioned in front of the register with Ray right by his side. Fans openly sobbed as they greeted Angel. Some hugged and jumped on him. It seemed like such an invasion of space, but Angel’s smile didn’t drop from his face even once.
After two hours passed, Iris stepped forward to ask how he was doing. There was still a significant number of people waiting in line.
“Do you want to stop signing at a certain point?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll stay until I see everyone.”
Iris admired how he remained calm and amiable, but once he started rolling his shoulders she could see that he eventually grew fatigued. Bree brought him a new water bottle and he smiled at her gratefully. He whispered something to her and nodded toward Iris.
“Is everything okay?” Iris asked as Bree walked back over to her.
“Yeah, Angel invited us to the club tonight,” she said. “He said his producer is in town and has a table at Oasis. I hear celebrities always go there.”
Iris hid her inner grimace. She’d accepted years ago that she wasn’t a club person. She preferred small get-togethers where you could actually enjoy someone’s company and didn’t have to shout to be heard over the music. But Angel was inviting them out, and declining would probably be bad talent care. Her distaste for clubs could not outweigh her work ethic.
“Sure,” she said, hoping that she didn’t sound as reluctant as she felt. “Let’s do it.”