Benny's POV
By the time I got to the studio, I was already annoyed, sweaty, and considering throwing myself in front of the next train just to avoid another day with Linda Kyle.
Except when I walked into the greenroom, I froze.
Linda was crying. Full-on sobbing, ugly crying, with mascara streaks down her cheeks and tissues scattered all over the floor like she was at a funeral.
Drama queen much?
The moment she saw me, she pointed her trembling hand.
"There! See? He's even late! He's the reason I won't be doing the show today!"
I blinked. "...Me?"
Now what again did I do?
Linda sniffled so loud. "Just imagine. Even if I was going to trend, I should've looked good in the blog! But no. He didn't cover up my pores properly. Do you people understand? Millions of viewers! Millions!"
God forbid we all acknowledge that skin has texture.
Everyone in the room turned to glare at me…producers, interns, camera guys. Like I was the antichrist who personally invented pores.
The interns were whispering louder now.
"He really didn't blend her foundation."
"Her hairline was tragic too."
"I heard he left her concealer unbaked."
I wanted to punch all of them.
Linda pressed her hand to her chest like she was about to faint. "And my hair! Do you know what the blog said? They compared me to a… to a…" she choked… "to a bird's nest."
Okay, I actually snorted. Couldn't help it.
Her eyes snapped to me. "Are you….laughing?"
I pasted on my fakest sweet smile. "Linda, you know I don't mind the blog. If anything, you should be grateful. Not everyone gets to look that… authentic on camera."
The producers all stared at me. Somebody coughed to cover their laugh.
Linda's nostrils flared. Her sobs stopped instantly. She turned slowly. "If I don't get another makeup artist by the end of today, there will be no show today."
The room went dead silent. I felt everyone staring at me, waiting. My brain told me to shut up. My mouth… did not.
"Are you trying to say they should fire me for your misery and large pores?" I blurted.
The gasp that followed was so loud. Even the camera guy muttered, "Oh, damn."
"I…I mean," I backpedaled fast, plastering on my sweetest fake smile again, "What I meant was… maybe we should calm down, drink some tea, get you a cucumber mask.."
Linda dabbed her eyes delicately with a tissue. Then she smiled. "Yes. Exactly. You're fired, Benny."
The tissues hit the floor. Everyone in the room exhaled in satisfaction, like they'd been waiting for this moment their whole lives.
And that's how I, became unemployed before 10 a.m.
For a moment, I just stood there, still smiling like an idiot. My fake sweetness slipped, and fell to the floor like one of her fake lashes.
"Excuse me?" I blinked, tilting my head. "No, let's cut the crap." I held up a hand. "Every day I paint your face, and every day I wonder…why? Why try to make a scarecrow look human?"
Gasps filled the room.
Her eyes widened. "What did you just say? How dare you?"
Someone snorted. Another pretended to cough into their sleeve to hide a laugh.
I tossed my bag onto a chair. "You heard me. I dare because it's true! See, I can beat a face, Linda. But I can't perform plastic surgery with a beauty blender."
A producer actually dropped his clipboard.
"And your hair?" I continued. "That bird's nest look you're crying about? Honey, I told you to condition. But no, you wanted to keep bleaching it to look like a chicken's feather. That's not on me. That's on you."
Her mouth opened and closed, but I wasn't done.
"And while we're at it? Maybe the internet doesn't hate you because of your pores. Maybe they hate you because your personality has all the warmth of a freezer aisle."
A couple interns snorted before clamping their hands over their mouths.
Linda shot to her feet. "SECURITY!"
"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "Oh, call security. Cute. Nobody likes you, Linda. Not your staff, not your audience, not even your mirror."
Two security guards came stomping in.
Linda pointed at me. "Get him OUT."
"Throw me out if you must! But remember this, Linda Kyle…." I leaned in, smiling at her. "You can fire me, but you can't fire your crow's feet."
The interns lost it. One dropped to the floor wheezing. Linda turned purple.
I glanced at the guard on my left. Tall. Broad shoulders. Tattoos peeking from under his sleeve. "Heyyy, you single? You're kinda my type. Big, dumb, and paid to manhandle me. Call me?"
He rolled his eyes and kept dragging.
I twisted toward Linda as the doors swung open. "Enjoy your pores, babe! Remember, this show's dying faster than your filler. And when it's canceled, remember…I was the only honest one here!"
And that's how I ended up being dragged out of the studio at 10:07 a.m., mascara stains on my shirt that weren't even mine, and a new entry for the Worst Employee Exits of All Time.