Little Lies

24. Makeover

Leon wasn't lying when he said his stylist would be here at eleven.

Not that I expected him to lie, but I didn't think she would show up exactly at eleven. Knocking on my door like she's not being paid to be here. I opened it up, half dressed having just had a shower and thrown on a robe to get the door, thinking it was some kind of emergency or something. But no.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be dressed and ready to go. Did Leon not tell you I would be here at eleven?" She questioned, knowing full well that he did. It seems Leon makes himself a habit of hanging around assholes like him. "I cannot deal with this, throw some clothes and shoes on before we're late for your appointment."

"Appointment?" I ask. I didn't hear anything about an appointment.

"Yes, we are getting your hair done as well as nails and a facial. We need you glowing for when Leon announces his relationship to the press. Can't have you looking like..." Her eyes dragged over my face and down my body with the utmost scrutiny. "That."

I refrain from saying something snarky back at her. Not that I think I could. She has absolutely no flaws. With stunning wavy red hair that cascades down her back like some spring waterfall, and a face so perfect that makeup would merely hinder her natural skin and vibrant green eyes. She looks like she could be a supermodel, maybe she is. I feel like she does look vaguely familiar. Why doesn't Leon just date her instead, she clearly knows how to navigate this life. Whatever.

I do as she says and go back to my room, putting on the nicest clothes I have, which just so happens to be a pair of grey slacks and black long sleeve turtleneck. Pulling on my doc's, I fix my hair into a high messy bun and give myself one last look in the mirror before deciding that I look appropriate enough to enter society without garnering looks of disgust from the people of high end society.

"You're wearing that?" The stylist gags at the sight of me. Her face recoils and she takes a large gulp of air. Is she going to pass out? How am I more worried over whether she's going to pass out than insulted at the fake she's literally gagging at me?

I ignore her question and hold out my hand. "I realise I haven't introduced myself, I'm Phoebe." She looks at my hand, as if debating whether she should shake it or not, before shaking it firmly.

"Alicia Sanderson."

Hang on a second. "As in, the Alicia Sanderson?"

"Yes yes, that's me. No need to freak out. I don't do photos or autographs anyway."

I knew that I recognised her from somewhere. She's a bloody model. And not just any model. She's on the cover of every magazine, close friends with the kardashians and star of one of the biggest tv shows in the states. How did I not immediately recognise her? And why the fuck does Leon have her as his personal stylist? So fucking random. "Why are you working for Leon?" I ask.

"He pays well." She shrugs. Shit, he must pay freaking amazing to hire her, like she doesn't already have enough money.

"Enough of the chit chat, we have places to be." She grabs onto my arms and drags me to the elevator and then through the foyer of the building and to a Rolls Royce sitting out the front. I don't have time to stare in awe as the driver opens the door for us and I'm pushed into the fanciest car interior I've ever been in. This car is worth more than my life, I feel like just being in it is a crime. "You need to work on your walk, your back is hunched like you haven't slept in days and you walk like you don't know where you're going."

I'm about to tell her I don't, but she starts talking once again as the car pulls away from the curb. "Leon needs someone who looks like they belong at his side. You can dress a girl up in designer clothes and operate on her face until she's the most beautiful woman on earth, but none of that will matter if she doesn't act with confidence. Which you clearly lack."