Page 1 of Knot Just for Show
Chapter One
Ursula
“Shit, fuck, oww!”I hiss, already running nearly ten minutes behind schedule—my snarling mass of raven curls are refusing to cooperate with my wide-toothed comb despite my best efforts to coax the mess into something presentable before I take off for my gig this afternoon.
Thankfully, I'm at the point in my career where my name sells itself. I have established a reputation for being at the cutting edge of trendy makeup looks here in tinsel town—even if I've also cultivated somewhat of a reputation for being less than punctual. Usually, I'd be happy to rest on those talented-but-less-than-timely laurels; but tonight is special.
Tonight, I'm doing makeup for my bestest bestie's latest film premiere. Daphne, who by now must be forced to waddle everywhere—preggers and ready topopwith triplets. She and Pack Silver have been away for months shootingBound Hearts,and this city has felt much lonelier without Daphne to pal around with. I've missed her terribly.
“You know what would save you from your solitude?” Daphne taunted when she called to confirm that I'd do her makeup for theBound Heartspremiere, still holed up on-location somewhere in Montana.
“Icouldpossibly be spared from dying of loneliness if Magnus decides that his next opus needs to be shot on location in LA?” I offer weakly, hating how pathetic I sound— clinging to Daphne like a codependent little sister.
“No! Finding your goddamnpack, La-la!” Daphne scolds me.
“ButDee,” I whine—Daphne won't hear any of my excuses though.
“You can't just keep suppressing your heats forever—living alone in that little pink stucco bungalow like all the little old beta ladies on your block!” She had threatened.
“Oh yeah, just watch me!” I challenge Daphne.
The ugly truth is, I don't want to be a lonely spinster in my little Barbie starter bungalow. Idowant to find my pack. Idowant to bond them and have lots of babies and live happily ever after.
I've just never had any luck with it.
When I got my designation at eighteen, I had been so excited to peruse all the scent swatches at the omega center—to have my team carefully collect and curate my own omega scent so that it could be cataloged and distributed to potential suitors. No matter how many swatches I sniffed, no matter how many placement agencies I tried, there were never any compatible matches.
Not like I have the time to worry about that kind of stuff right now. While I’m certainly enjoying a decent amount of success for someone in my line of work, living in LA isn’t cheap. I can afford my rent, my car payments, my utility bills, and the occasional brunch or weekend away; but only just barely.
I remember when I showed up in thisCity of Angelswith a Casio keyboard, a vintage suitcase’s worth of clothes, and a dream of becoming a jazz singer in some dreamy nightclub. After a week of busking and failed auditions for vocalist gigs—I realized I was going to have to readjust my expectations if I wanted to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly.
Raised by drag queens, as some storybook heroines are by wolves, I had a knack for campy, colorful makeup and hair/wig styling. I got online and snatched up any and every open makeup artist job I could find. Before I knew it, the money was rolling in regularly enough for me to pay my rent on time, even if keeping the fridge partially full wouldn’t come until nearly two years later.
LA can be pretty lonely if you aren’t connected to ‘the right people’. Someone to be in the room where it happens and drop your name, to offer you your bigbreak, afriendto lean on, to go to the beach with or go get Oki Dogs at quarter to two in the morning, after you get off a night shoot.
Back then, I most certainly was not connected to these mythical ‘right people’. I didn’t have anyone to advocate for me, no mentor, no spunky co-worker, not even a local pal I could callup to feed Baxter, my betta fish, when I had to leave town for a few days. In my shame, I was forced to ask either of my elderly neighbors, Fifi or Laverne, to feed poor Baxter when I had a working weekend or when I flew back home to the east coast for the holidays.
It wasn’t until a chance meeting with another omega in this lonely city—that things started to change for me.
When I met Daphne, the two of us became inseparable almost immediately. Not long after she and I met, Daphne began her meteoric rise to fame, and I got swept up in her wake.
As if Daphne’s incredible luck had started to rub off on me, Agnes Moon—Costume, Hair and Makeup designer to the legendary filmmaking duo, Martine and Winnifred LaRenta, took me under her wing. I started getting bigger and better jobs and more regular gigs. I went viral on social media for the looks I was doing on starlets like Daphne Dale, Avacyn Black, and Lita Barnett…but all of it feels a little hollow still.
Between the lackluster profits and the lack of a pack to share my successes with, however small? It doesn’t really feel likeenough. I find myself looking formore.
I’m sinking into a moody sulk about it, wrestling my wheeling train case full of makeup and hair supplies to the door when my phone rings—a goofy photo of Daphne and I making tongue-out faces for the camera fills my mobile’s glassy screen.
“I’m hustlin’ my ass trying to get over to yours to beautify you in time for this red carpet—whaddaya want?” I cut right to busting Daphne’s chops instead of a boring old ‘hello’.
“Well good! Do you think you’ll have enough time to do Cammy and Lotte too?” Daphne asks innocently.
“Oh boy, Frik and Frak are going to be there? I dunno Dee…Maybe I’m suddenly running a fever—I have the flu. It's getting dark—I don’t know if I’m going to make it.” I groan, theatricallypacking the tools of my trade into my busted square-backed station wagon.
“If only I too could develop this mysterious illness and be excused from both entertaining family and attending this goddamn premiere,” Daphne laughs.
“Girl, you don't need a mysterious illness—just pretend you think your water broke. E-Z,” I suggest nonchalantly.
Daphne erupts with laughter and I can hear the faint calls of ‘What?’ ‘Did she say she would?’ from Cammy and Lotte under Daphne's silver-bell laugh.