Thread: Going Down? (Traveler & Charlotte)

The idea of dealing with Vanessa that morning was bittersweet. On one hand, it might be one of the last times she ever had to.. which, in all honesty, made Olive swell like a happy fucking balloon. But on the other hand, trying to get her to sign the paper shed written up last-minute to agree that Olive had done a fair enough job.. well.. that was the downside. And it only seemed to feel more and more impossible as the day dragged on. The blonde arrived a little earlier than usual to say her potential good-byes and give the on-staff makeup artist a heads up. The usual time Vanessa rolled in was quickly approaching.. as terrible as she was to work on and with, the woman was hardly ever late. She wanted to keep her job, after all. So when the few minutes passed.. people began to panic. And when at last the brunette arrived and cleared a warpath to her designated chair, Olives balloon had deflated completely. She looked towards the stylist, both sharing a god help us look of disapproval. He looked at the back of Vanessas head, then at Olive, then back to Vanessa.. the coward. Olive swallowed hard, steeled herself, and went over. To greet the pissy walking chimney. Hello, Vanessa. Olive said, trying to keep her voice from sounding overly-chipper and set off the walking rage on legs that she somehow had to apply make up to. While she smoked in all sorts of ways. The blonde received a glare in response, and she blew the smoke in the other direction somewhat. But, hey, at least she vaguely tried, right? Right. Olive chewed in the inside of her lip and nodded the stylist over. It was safe, for now. He began pinning her hair back out of Olives way and the blonde started to dab makeup remover onto a cotton ball in order to remove the residual ink around the other womans eyes. Olive cleared her throat, So, Im gonna be leaving sometime this week, she began, then after noting Vanessas lips purse over the smoke stick she quickly added, But Im gonna supervise and train the on-set artist until I go which seemed, for the most part, to calm Vanessa down. Which was odd in itself.. she woman mustve been sufficiently distracted. And Id really appreciate it if you could sign off on this stamp of approval.. the woman offered quietly, taking opportunity while she pat the little damp cotton ball onto the lids of the other woman to gesture wildly with her eyes towards the paper on her desk. The stylist caught on quickly and snatched it, holding it gingerly within Vanessas reach until Olive had finished with the eyes and tossed the cotton ball into a nearby bin. Vanessa rolled her eyes, Yeah, whatever. Was her response, almost spitting had she not had the cigarette still pressed between her lips. Get me a pen, she snapped to the stylist, literally snapping her fingers and waiting for a pen to be placed in her hand. Olive.. was floored that this was going so well. She had to work around the small gap Vanessa left between taking drags and the smoke bothered her to no end, but this was good all things considered! A pen was placed into the claws of the brunette and she haphazardly scrawled her name onto the dotted line after almost ripping the paper from the stylisy's hand without even bothering to read it. She just wanted it out of her face. Shed used her thigh as a surface and the pen sort of poked through the paper but at this point Olive wouldve been glad if Vanessa scratched the signature into her goddamned arm. The paper signed and tucked away into her bag and Olive felt.. a thousand times better. She sighed in relief and gratitude.. then instantly regret it as the inhale brought two lungsful of smoke. It would always be like this with Vanessa, wouldnt it? Always a downside to any slight up. Oh, whatever, she had her paper and she was gonna leave soon. Olives balloon inflated just a bit. It was still alive. Thank you, she said, and began to pat little dots of green underneath Vanessas eyes with the pads of her ring fingers to block out the red. So, the shoot went well, I take it? the stylist asked, figuring that any sort of conversation would be better than the tense silence that surrounded their tiny workspace. Olive nodded and he continued, I didnt think youd make it to the drycleaners on time.. he muttered, beginning to comb the knots out of Vanessas hair with little protest from the woman. Apparently her annoyance was so ingrained into Olive that she had none left to focus on the stylist. I almost didnt, Olive added, laying down more green and dotting areas that needed to be concealed with a too-light color. But handsome-neighbor walked me there, so.. At this, both the stylist and Vanessa perked. Stylist for purely gossipy reasons. Vanessa.. well, what would make her feel better than trashing on the dated-trollop? And talk of this handsome-neighbor shed heard in passing would give her leverage to do so. He walked with you? He asked. Mhm, Olive answered, cleaning her hands and picking up the palate of flesh-tones to begin laying down. .. Thats interesting.. he offered with a devilish smile in the tone, Olive looking up and blushing only slightly. I.. dont think Im his type, she fumbled softly, dipping a bright pink cylinder sponge into the Vanessa-appropriate hue and patting it gently to her face. Ha! Vanessa barked, finding her entryway. Thats an understatement. Olive was thrown aback. Shed paused mid-pat on her face. Bra strap plucked. She stayed quiet. Vanessa seized the silent opportunity. If hes as rich and handsome as youve said he was, I sincerely doubt hed be interested in someone like you, Vanessa said, looking down her nose to Olives feet and trailing up her outfit. Bra strap plucked. Olive continued patting, her lips pressed in a fine line. The stylist had stopped, and was just watced the drama unfold in front of them. Could she be serious? This woman was literally touching her, and Vanessa had the gall to say such awful things? He was probably just throwing you a pity party. She scoffed. Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. Shed had enough. She couldnt turn around and smack the annoying boy behind her desk in the face. She was an adult. Her daddy would not come to the rescue and gnaw out the dean or Vanessa. I quit. Olive stated, putting away her things without bothering to clean them. It was taking all of her effort not to actually lunge at Vanessa for her unnecessary bullshit. The rest of that little scenario she could only recall in memory.. When she was sitting at home, wide-eyed and in absolute terror. Eyes locked on the television, watching Vanessa do the weather.. She had left, and given the on-set artist strict instructions as to how Vanessa wanted her makeup done. Well.. shed followed them precisely, at least. Vanessa appeared on screen, face overly-orange, lips a horrid pink, brows too dark, her nose and face made to appear more slim than necessary. She looked.. terrible.. It still wasnt satisfying. Not after the dumbfuck move Olive did in her rage quit. The blonde had slid the note-of-approval from her bag and tore it in half in Vanessas face. And I dont fucking need this, accompanied the sharp tearing noise from the paper. The sharp noise that haunted her all the way home. While she sat. And watched Vanessa. Son. Of. A. Bitch.