Page 2 of Rainstorm

I was so tired.

Three days of laziness and lying on my bed doing nothing were calling my name. So loud.

Yes, weekend, I was ready for you.

I looked again toward camera number seven, making sure that the light that until a few seconds ago was green, had turned red.

What?

A girl couldn’t be too cautious when the last thing she needed was getting caught having an embarrassing moment in front of the whole audience.

Especially when a strawberry bombshell was walking, almost running, directly toward me, shoving her arms theatrically in the air, opening her mouth to let out a silent scream of joy.

“Shh!” I hushed Mandy Sue, who was one of the make-up girls and the closest friend I had. Although the commercial ads were now running, while we were on the main floor we still had to be careful. My friend might be one of the best in the business, but she was also well known for her quirkiness.

She was untamable.

Incorrigible.

So adorable and authentic.

Like her curly hair and cowboy boots. Wild and free.

Smiling as she grabbed my arm, she practically dragged me across the studio, walking so fast I had a hard time keeping up. “Hey, crazy girl. If you want me still in one piece by the end of the day, let go of my arm, ‘cos you’re giving me a shoulder sprain.”

She just ignored me as she kept going despite my protests.

When we finally arrived at her workstation, she shoved me onto the high wooden chair, then leant over to cage me in with her hands on the chair arms, a devilish smirk twisting her lips.

Mandy had plans.

Evil plans.

And those said plans included me.

I knew her well enough. We’d worked together for more than two years, as she’d been my designated make-up artist from my very first week. Of course, she also worked with the show’s other guests, the chef, who came twice a week, and the yoga instructor as I was not important enough to have my own staff. But still.

She was one of the most loyal and caring people I’d met in my entire life.

And I adored her, despite the fact that I usually ended up involved in a binge, prank, fight or all of the above.

As I said, my friend was a quirky bird.

She leaned in, towering over me as she checked my appearance. Petting my head, running her skilled fingers through the bangs of my dark hair. I was prepared to say no to whatever insanity came out of her mouth, despite her disastrous attempt to bribe me.

“I love your dress, it looks really gorgeous on you.” She smiled. Oh my... her attempts were getting worse by the second, her plans must be dangerous. “Is it new?”

I rolled my eyes, as if she didn’t know that all the dresses I wore on a daily basis were new, it was one of the perks of my job, and thanks to my agent renegotiating my initial contract, I got to keep as many as I wanted. Now, several local boutiques supplied me with outfits in exchange for publicity and a mention in my social media accounts in OOTD posts.

“Mandy, I have to go. The show is finishing and I need to be at the post production meeting. Mr. West will be furious if I’m late, you know how he can be.”

That might have been an excuse but it was also the truth. Our boss was implacable, every day after the show we had a production meeting to discuss any mistakes, improvements for the following week, guests we were having on the show, that kind of stuff. In cases where there was major change, we had to stay and rehearse as if we were on air, like the time they brought in some new equipment for my segment and I had to learn how to use it. Also, I usually got a preliminary weather report to study, ahead of the final forecast the evening before the show.

“That’s okay, I’ll wait for you,” Mandy announced, but that sounded more like a dare. “It’s just I met this guy last night at the car wash, he was there waiting at the same time that I was, so we talked, talked and talked a bit more.” I bet they did, poor man. “So, he asked when he could see me again, and I told him that today at lunchtime would be perfect. So we have a date, however, I need my wing girl.”

“Mandy, you’ve got this, you really don’t need me trailing along,” I pleaded, trying my best to get out of it. “You didn’t invite him to your condo, right?”

“Oh no, I’m not crazy,” she replied, as if that were a fact. My eyebrows lifted automatically giving her a silent answer, which she caught, of course. “Well, not that crazy anyway. Rose, you have to come, my treat. We’re going to meet at this new seafood place in Santa Monica, and I know you want to go there. See, I can be thoughtful with my friend. It’s a win-win situation, I meet this guy and you get to eat like a princess.”

---