me, they’ll all be in the organic juice bar, you fool.
Whatever, I argued, as if I would be the strangest thing on the streets of London today. What were the chances of bumping into someone I knew, anyway?
‘Tess? Is that you?’
The chances were high.
‘Raquel?’ I squinted through my hair to see a small, squat blonde woman staring at me, slack-jawed, in the middle of the street. ‘Hi!’
Because there was no better time to bump into the woman who had fired you from your last proper job than when you were wearing dirty denim overalls with unspecified muck all over the knees and an entire make-up artist’s palette of unblended contouring slap all over your face.
‘Are you …’ She peered up at me, half confused and half delighted. ‘What’s going on with your face?’
‘I’m working,’ I told her, trying very hard not to touch my face. ‘I’m doing a thing.’
‘What kind of thing?’ She kept staring, her eyes flickering from red triangles underneath my eyes and lavender circles on my chin to the brown shading all around my cheeks and nose. ‘Are you a clown?’
I gave her as ferocious a look as I could, given the circumstances.
‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’ I asked.
‘Sort of,’ she replied tartly. ‘That’s an interesting hat.’
‘Thank you,’ I said graciously, touching the peak of the Hat of Shame. ‘Anyway—’
‘I’m glad you found work,’ Raquel said, interrupting me to be even more condescending. If that was possible. ‘You disappeared off the face of the earth and I was wondering where you’d got to. What agency are you with?’
‘I’m not in advertising any more,’ I said, aware of every single person on the street turning to stare as they passed. ‘I’m a photographer.’
Raquel looked at me with her dead shark eyes. ‘You’re a what?’
‘A photographer,’ I replied. It was hard to sound confident when you looked like a Picasso painting of a clown. Brown blocks on my cheeks, silver triangles around my chin, bright red circles under my eyes. It was a grand look.
‘I see.’
‘I’ve been in Hawaii,’ I said, folding my arms around me. ‘Shooting for Gloss magazine.’
‘Is that right?’
‘And Milan,’ I said, nodding. ‘I was working with Bertie Bennett. You probably won’t know who he is but he’s basically a fashion legend. He’s huge. Just an incredible man. An inspiration really.’
‘And this …’ She gestured towards my face, reminding me of my current situation in case I’d somehow forgotten for a split second. ‘Is something to do with that?’
‘It’s a make-up test,’ I said, hoping she didn’t have any follow-up questions. ‘I’m testing make-up.’
Playing make-up guinea pig was another in a long line of Ess’s super-fun challenges. Like how he’d had me wear a necklace of sausages for two hours last Wednesday morning and then source fourteen gerbils and six guinea pigs for a ‘concept’, only to discover that the model was allergic to rodents, meaning I had to return them before she would even walk into the studio.
‘And what about Charlie?’ Raquel asked. ‘How’s lovely Charlie?’
‘He’s fine,’ I told her. ‘I saw him last night.’
‘So exciting to see him go out on his own,’ she said, her over-tweezed eyebrows arching high into her hairline. ‘And picking up Peritos as his first client? Impressive.’
‘He’s very talented.’ I shoved my hands in my pockets and wished I’d brought my gloves. It was windy and cold and I very much wanted to be inside. ‘He’s going to do very well.’
‘I was surprised to hear you weren’t working together, you two were always so buddy-buddy.’
‘You know, I’m actually late,’ I said, looking past her to see a queue forming out the door of Starbucks. ‘I’m shooting a feature for No-No magazine – have you heard of it?’
‘I can’t say I’m familiar with it, but I’m sure it’s very good,’ she said, flipping her bleached blonde head around, stretching up to her full five-foot-nothing.
I stood in the street, looking down at the woman who had taken away my job with a smile, and suddenly realized she didn’t matter. None of it mattered. She could stand in the middle of the street and try to make me feel shit every single day for the rest of the year and it wouldn’t mean a thing. She couldn’t fire me again; I was the only one who could fuck up now. So why waste another second worrying about what she thought of me?
‘You know, you actually did me a massive favour,’ I said, giving her a big, bright smile. ‘And I never said thank you.’
‘I did?’ she asked, her smile fading as mine grew. ‘How’s that?’
‘Sacking me,’ I explained. ‘Best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘Oh.’ Her thick foundation formed deep orange creases on her forehead as she frowned. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve been able to find a positive in such a difficult situation.’
‘Absolutely! And not just because I never have to see you again!’ I replied, quickly looking at my watch. ‘Ooh, is that the time? It’s been so great to see you—’
‘I’m at Eskum now,’ she said, interrupting before I could make my escape. ‘Director of people—’
‘Wow, yeah? I actually really don’t care,’ I said, taking my turn to interrupt. I flashed her one more smile as she visibly shrivelled in front of me. ‘But gosh, those poor, poor people.’
Raquel looked as though I’d slapped her in the face and I wished I had.
‘I wish I could count all of the fucks I don’t give but I’ve only got eight fingers and two thumbs and that’s not nearly enough,’ I said, giving her a brief hug and ever such a tiny shove. ‘Have a lovely day, Raquel. Or don’t. Doesn’t really matter.’
I turned on my heel and marched off down the road, ridiculous painted head held high in my cock cap.
‘Ess!’ I shouted as I pushed the door open against the wind.
‘Thank God, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,’ he said, holding his hand out for his coffee with one hand and scratching his crotch with the other. ‘You were gone more than ten minutes though.’
‘I haven’t got your coffee,’ I replied, marching across the studio and throwing the Cock cap at 7. ‘I want to go over my portfolio.’
‘We haven’t got time,’ Ess replied, pointing across the studio to the styling area. ‘Now sod off and bring me a coffee.’
