Celeste was absently rubbing lotion on her elbows, the chairs on either side of her unoccupied. She was dressed in a royal blue men’s button-down shirt, her legs bare all the way up to a pair of very short, very tight boy shorts only visible when she shifted to uncross her legs. She snapped the lotion bottle closed, stood, and leaned toward the mirror, fiddling with blackheads across the bridge of her nose.

Now or never, Nikki. You will be noticed if you just keep standing around.

Definitely. I already stood out enough next to the bohemian styles of the artists working in their yellow-lensed glasses and smocks and combat boots.

I took a deep breath, walked into the dressing area, swiping a makeup box from a cart behind an actor whose artist was busy gluing on the ugliest toupee I’d ever seen. I disappeared behind a costume rack and rooted around until I found a ratty-looking knee-length cardigan. I pulled the hem of my T-shirt into a knot at my back, exposing my belly button, and shrugged into the cardigan. I quickly plaited my hair into two braids that hung down my shoulders and wrapped a silky orange scarf around my hair like a headband. I fumbled through the makeup kit and pulled out the liquid eyeliner. I was terrible at makeup. Always had been. Even as a little girl, fooling around with Mom’s makeup in the bathroom, I never could quite figure out what was supposed to go where, and how. Mom always made it look so effortless—she never looked like she had makeup on; she just looked fresher somehow.

There was no mirror, so I moved where I could see myself in the long costume rack pole. My face was warped, convex. But good enough. I drew severe lines across my bottom lids, swooping them up into cat eyes, then found a tube of red lipstick. I was all eyes and lips when I was done. I felt ridiculous, but I fit in much better.

I rubbed my lips together, straightened my plaits, picked up my toolbox, and made a beeline to Celeste Day.

She saw me in the mirror and stopped poking her face. “Who are you?” she asked.

I held up the makeup kit, and she frowned.

“Where’s Jayelle?”

That was a good question. A really good question, actually. Somehow I’d gotten lucky enough to pick a time when Jayelle was not around. But I had no idea when she would show up, so I decided to cover my bases.

“I’m just here to get things started while we wait. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”