Thread: Going Down? (Traveler & Charlotte)

Another day, another session with Vanessa. For Olive , that meant another session of keeping her jaw locked, teeth ground together and her brows tensed in an attempt to keep them somewhat relaxed-looking. It proved incredibly difficult to do. The blonde had her fair share of picky clients. Clients that didnt know what they wanted until they saw it, clients that didnt know what looked best on them, clients that knew what looked bad on them and insisted on it anyway. Clients that blabbered on about their personal lives, clients that bragged and nitpicked about Olives own appearance. Clients that didnt sit still and made it hard to apply said makeup. Clients that made her change up the look after shed already set the first one. Vanessa was all of the above. And often times, all in one session. This was her sixth week applying Vanessas TV-face and it had not gotten any easier. By now Olive knew that Vanessa just hated the way that Olives hair was unnaturally blonde and that her look was dated and expired. She knew that Vanessa only used the highest quality of hair products and shed never do too much damage to it, despite the fact that Olive knew otherwise. She knew Vanessas boyfriend had a well-paying job, was utterly handsome and was the stud-iest stud to ever have studded. Every time, the woman one-upped Olive without reason. And Olive knew that she desperately wanted to deposit that sweet, sweet paycheck and get the hell home. So she waited while Vanessa scribbled on the tiny rectangular notepad, lazily putting her tools away and sparing idle, apologetic glances towards the hairstylist that got Vanessa next. All he had to do was get the pins and curlers out of her hair, but even that simple task was made draining with Vanessa in the chair. If she didnt pay so well, Olive would skip out on the next time she called her up.. But, money was money and this would look good for future references. Olive waited patiently, slipping the large black bag over her shoulder and decent-sized case clutched in one of her hands. She chewed slightly on her top lip, pausing when Vanessa ripped the paper from its holder and handed it lazily out to her. Like it was nothing. And Olive took it, trying to appear casual about it, too. And then Vanessa did that thing Olive hated above all other things. She held onto the check for a fraction longer than necessary. After Olives well-manicured fingers had taken hold and tugged slightly. A twitch in the blondes brow, a nasty smirk from the other woman and the paper finally gave. A pleasure, as always. Olive sighed softly, ignoring her instinct to say thank you and the fact she didnt even sound sincere to her own ears. She used to say thanks, but found the fact that Vanessa never did entirely too annoying. Vanessa waved her away. Olive tucked the check into her pocket and turned around, giving the hairstylist a grim expression that was supposed to border along good luck! and 'she's all yours', but they both knew better. There would be no gossiping today. Rent was due, and Olive didnt have the time to stay and ramble. She went on her way, hurrying out of the studio and leaving the in-house makeup artist to do any touch-ups Vanessa would undoubtedly need. Olive slid into her less-than-expensive car, shut the door a few times to get the damn open door light to turn off on her dash, stopped by her bank to deposit her check, quickly sent the money over via convenient phone-app, waited for the confirmation e-mail in her car and drove home, feeling loads better. The woman lugged her things out of her car after having parked it in the buildings basement garage. Carried them into the elevator, pressed a button to her floor and leaned against the back of the tiny moving room as to keep out of the way of any incoming passengers. Maybe shed see him today. Every once in a while, when the stars and planets aligned. When that shiny too-new car was in the garage and yes, shed checked, though pretended not to be conscious of it. When the universe decided to cut the girl some slack shed see him. He lived one floor above her. She didnt know his name, or his apartment number. Only that he lived one floor up, he had a fancy car, an even fancier girlfriend, and got home around the same time she did. Which was partly why she drove home with a lead-foot. She knew these things because he once commented that he liked Olives dress, and hoped someday to see his girlfriend wearing something akin to it. But that it was far too fun for her. It was a bittersweet compliment, but one none the less. If she was lucky, hed be in the lobby, getting his mail. If she was lucky.