What's a mate?

1. This is not my job

People were everywhere. Every single one of them rushing to make everything perfect. People were running, yelling and setting things up all around the venue. To most it would seem like chaos but everyone here knew what they were doing and where everything was to be put. It's how productions and shows like this always were. They were full days of planned chaos.

"Danielle! Where has she gone now!" She heard a familiar voice yelling as the person it belonged to approached were she was sitting. As the person walked past the curtains that led backstage they sighed in relief as they put their hands to their hips.

"Dee i've been looking everywhere for you! Mr. Delacamp says that the models will be here soon and look at you you're not even ready! Unless that is what you call professional." Cameron St.louis, her closest friend and companion when it came to these jobs, grumbled as he took in her attire. He was an intern to the actual fashion designer of this show. He also hated things like sweatpants, which is exactly what she was wearing. "C'mon Dee. Follow me I'm sure I have something in your size... Dee, you know I love you but darling you need to remember that we are professionals but your sweats are not." She went to protest but his glare told me that there would be consequences if she didn't follow.

Twenty minutes later she found herself in a tight top black A-line dress with her face contorted into a pout. "Cam you really hate me don't you. Stealing my prized sweatpants and swearing that you'd throw them out if I even thought to not wear this monstrosity of a tight dress." she whined playfully, turning as I heard a door being opened before it slammed itself shut.

"Danielle, love.... Shut up and go do your job. You know you love that dress. It fits you perfectly and I may even be able to spare those louis vuitton that you love so much. Oh would you stop tugging at it." he said to her, lightly patting her hand before turning his attention to a model. "Ah Christina looking fabulous. " Huffing she stood from the chaise she had been sitting in. She looked over to the models and sighed once more before putting a smile on her face and made her way over to them.

"Hey girls if any of you want to head over so me and the other makeup artist so we can do you're makeup to get you all extra beautified that'd be great." The words left her tongue with a cheerier tone then she felt but the girls smiled back, all giggles and nods. Making her way to her station she looked around double checking that everything was in place before waiting for one of the girls to join her. Going through girl after girl, makeup look after makeup look was fun but it took forever. An hour later we were done with makeup and the models started to get changed into there outfits. She sat off to the side just waiting for the show to begin when the production managers assistant decided to get sick on the production manager, Clara's shoes.  She vaguely recalled hearing her speaking to one of the other staff members about being nervous. But as she watched the only thing that crossed her mind is that she'd never seen a girl get fired so quickly. But watching the girl run out while Clara grumbled and tried to get someone to give her their shoes was funny. Although she felt a pang of sympathy for her assistant.

"Shit... hey you you're finished doing your job right?." She looked around confused but when she noticed everyone had moved away from her she nodded. "Good take this." She said handing the girl a clipboard with a seating chart. Her eyes widened as she looked at it. This was not what she was getting paid for. It shouldn't have to be her responsibility. "And go bring all the VIPS to there seats. That dimwit was supposed to do it but we can all see that that's not happening know. So since you seem to be done with you're work the task is yours." She said with a sickly sweet smile before speed walking away already yelling at someone else. She stared at the back of her head as she walked off. She had no idea how to do this job. What if she screwed up?

Every one stared, eyes wide as the moon as she let herself fall back onto the makeup chair. One word replaying itself in her head.

"Shit"