Page 113 of The Backup Plan
“Hey, I’m really fucking wholesome.”
Pippa stood. “It’s my fault, Shelby. The blend I was using before just didn’t look right today. I don’t know why, but?—”
“It didn’t look right because you mixed it in August when we got him and he’d been in the sun every day for two months. It’s almost November.” Shelby grabbed a palette and a brush as Pippa looked on in horror. “Don’t move, Porter.”
Cam tried to unclench his jaw as she jabbed him with brushes and her quick breaths grew more agitated. “What’s the problem, Susan?” he asked when he saw her sifting through trays.
“Your color is weird.”
“It sure is. Probably too weird for makeup in a podcast video.”
“Your undertones are weird, smartass. Where are you from?”
“Tennessee. You know that.”
“I mean, where is your family from?”
“That’s a little personal.”
She flustered. “That can affect your undertones.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Oh, right. Dad’s from Knoxville originally. Mom’s from South Carolina. I think my undertones are Dixieland and defeat. Might not want to go there if we’re manifesting wins.”
Shelby set down the makeup and brush and folded her hands in her lap. “We didn’t get off to the best start, Cameron.” She couldn’t keep the venom out of his name. “But I have a job to do here, and so do you. I know you don’t like it. You make that abundantly clear every time you enter this room. But it’s your job now, too, and if I say you need to look nice for a podcast video, we make you look nice. Your last link was viewed more than a quarter of a million times.”
“Well, most of those were my mama. Mom’s family is from South Carolina a ways back,” he drawled. “Dad’s family was up north for a few generations. He liked the video too. So did my uncles. They’re in Kentucky and Virginia, if that matters.”
She seethed, and Cam wondered how much more it would take to piss her off to the point of giving in like she did for the magazine photo shoot. No one tried to whip his glasses off his face anymore, and he appreciated the newly efficient schedule, but he was still the only one in a position to stand up to her bullying. Pippa cowered only a few feet away, much like he’d seen Garrett and Shay shrink back when Shelby bulldozed their ideas. When they stood up to her about pinning jerseys, the photo spread was a hit. He thought they made a point, but nothing changed.
“I meant country.”
“Oh. I’m American. You said you wanted All-American, right?”
Shelby slammed the palette down. “Goddammit, Porter, what are you?”
Cameron was about to drawl a total asshole, Susan, but stopped short.
“Excuse me?” a familiar female voice asked.
Pippa jolted upright and blanched. No one spoke.
“Did you just ask him ‘what’ he is?” The voice rang louder, and Cam turned around.
Shay met her boss’s eyes and didn’t flinch. “Do you need to know my family tree to blend my makeup, Shelby?” She tapped her forearm. “I’m in your African palette. Do you have shades for Nigerian and South African? I need seventy-five percent of one and twenty-five percent of the other, please. Cameron, what are you? I’m sure we have a few palettes labeled ‘European’ in here. Maybe we can mix something up if you’ll tell me what geographical regions I need.”
“My dad’s side is English and French. Mom’s is mostly French. Brittany, if that helps.”
“Aha, a sallow Breton. I should have known to look for the yellow undertones based on the color of the skin that’s right there on your face, instead of digging through your racial makeup for an excuse.”
Shay’s words sliced the air like a knife, and with Shelby seated in front of her, she finally had the higher ground to look down her nose. “Come on, Cam.” She beckoned to him without turning her gaze from Shelby’s flushed face. “Pips, can you help me with the mixer? We’re supposed to call the show in five. Let’s go present the university in its best light.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Untouchable Princess
AVERY: WEEK 8 (6-2)
“And then,” Shay announced, fighting back laughter, “after Pippa and I sat through the show with him and didn’t make a peep the whole thirty minutes?—”