Page 14 of Playing With My Heart Strings

Maybe that’s what I need right now, though. Someone who will cut the bullshit and get me through this.

I pull up to the studio and head straight to hair and makeup like Alex instructed.

“Oh good, Baylor, you’re right on time.” One of the makeup artists grabs my arm and pulls me over to a chair.

“How has everything been going?” I ask. I’m sure I’m not allowed to know, but what’s the harm in asking?

“It’s been busy. But everything seems to be going okay,” she replies as she organizes her products.

“That’s good to hear. No more social media scandals, then, I assume.”

It’s a poorly timed joke—I know it is, yet it still slips out of my mouth—and she gives me an awkward laugh, making me feel even worse about the whole situation.

It wasn’t your fault. Just get through these next ten weeks to save your career and then you can move on.

“Let’s get you ready for tonight.” She starts dabbing foundation on my face, working mostly in silence, which I’m okay with. Less room to make things more awkward after my comment.

Once she finishes putting a full face of makeup on me, she starts working on my hair. I wonder if any of the other contestants get this treatment or if it’s just because I’m part of the production company. I don’t imagine they do. Colette wouldn’t waste her time and resources on mere contestants who may not make it past the first week.

I let the question lingering in my mind slip out.

“The other contestants? No, they have to do their own. After today, you will, too, just so there’s no favoritism, but since you weren’t part of the auditions, Colette wants you to look your best. Can’t have America regretting their decision.” She shrugs in the mirror.

I do my best to ignore the backhanded comment but fail.

“Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t have seen me with the quality of that video.” I snort. “The only way I knew it was me was because I was the one on stage. Hopefully America doesn’t see my face and immediately hate me. I mean, would it be that bad to get eliminated early, though? Would put me out of my misery.” I can’t stop the self-deprecating jokes from flowing out of my mouth. Word vomit, if you will.

“Yeah…” She draws out the word, and we’re back to the awkward silence we were in before.

I swear she works even faster, but I can’t really blame her.

“Okay. All good to go.” She brushes a curl out of my face and dusts on a tiny bit of powder. “Go with Alex, and he’ll direct you to where you need to head next.”

I nod, standing from the stylist’s chair then walking over to the door where Alex is waiting.

“Dang, Sommerfeld, you sure clean up nice.” He teasingly nudges me with his elbow.

“We already knew this, Alexander.” I roll my eyes, giving him shit back with his full government name. “I damn sure clean up nicer than you do.”

“Can’t argue with that.” His tone shifts from playful to one of genuine concern. “Are you ready for all this?”

“Yep,” I lie.

“Honesty, Bay.”

I sigh, letting out all the air I’ve been holding hostage the past couple days. “If I’m being honest, no, I’m not ready for all of this. But I don’t really have a choice if I want to keep my job. I hate being in front of the camera in general, but the idea of being in front of the camera with the whole country watching makes me want to throw up.”

“Those are valid feelings. I know it’s easier said than done, but just do your best and be yourself. You’ve got me and Dani in your corner. It’s not like you have to win to keep your job, right?”

I shake my head, and he continues.

“Well, there you go, then. That should be a little less pressure on your back? Trust me, you’ll be great.”

At this point, we’ve arrived at the auditorium where auditions were held. Several women are chatting backstage with one another.

“They’re going to be pissed,” I mutter.

“They’ll get over it,” Alex answers. “Odds are if they didn’t make it through with you here, they still wouldn’t have made it without you here.”

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