Not Another Player

29.Rampage

Do or Die // 30 Seconds to Mars

"I promise I'm not a stalker."

"Your actions say otherwise." I lean back in the makeup chair for a second coat of special effects bruising. Erika, today's makeup artist, schools her expression. She's got a great poker face, but I can tell she's amused.

"Honest to God, I was just trying to give you a heads up." Emily throws me the Girl Scout promise of three raised fingers. The idea of this girl having been any kind of scout is laughable.

"Not sure you want to involve God in your scheming. Sounds like a sure-fire way to get struck down."

"By what?"

"Lighting. The plague. A city bus." I shrug.

"Tell me you can't stand me without telling me you can't stand me."

"No, I'll literally tell you. I can't stand you."

"For god's sake, Jacob!"

I cover my head with my hands.

"What now?" Emily stands off to the side, appearing thoroughly exhausted by her efforts to smooth things over with me.

"I'm protecting myself from the wrath you're about to bring down."

Emily plops into the nearest make up chair. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Took you long enough. You should have led with that." I watch as Emily slides further down the chair so that her back is curled, and her chin touches her chest.

"Blah. I feel like a slug."

"You kind of resemble one right now." Erika almost cracks a smile at my joke. Emily, on the other hand, covers her face with her hands after scootching back into a sitting position.

"I see now that it was really dumb to drop it on you the way I did but, in my head, I thought I was helping. Truly. I'm that dumb. I have a bad habit of butting into other people's business. It's not a quality I'm proud of. Drama is a freaking drug. I'm basically an addict."

While I appreciate her raw honesty, I'm keeping things close to the chest with her. Clinton is still investigating the whole hidden camera crap so until he's got names, I trust no one.

"The first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem," I tell her. "Maybe there's an AA version for drama queens."

"Hey! I'm not a drama queen. I just thrive on the drama of others."

"Like a parasite?"

Erika gasps. It's the first sign I've gone too far.

I glance at Emily, careful not to interrupt Erika's work on my fake forehead bruise, to find her looking at me with wide eyes.

"Sorry. Too soon."

Emily's face returns to neutral followed by a quick shrug. "Meh. Too real."

"At least you're honest."

Emily smiles. "It's my best quality."

The rest of the time rolls by as Erika finishes my beat-up look and Emily gets the escaped-hostage-on-the-run look. She's disheveled and torn, covered in grime and topped off with red rimmed eyes. I get sprayed with something to make me look sweaty. It feels thicker than water and kind of oily. No idea what it is, but it apparently does the trick. Mr. Director Guy is finally in a good mood and calls us to our marks earlier than expected. I'm happy for the distraction of filming after the shit show I walked into yesterday. The distance between me and Char isn't making me feel any better.