Makeup & Fitting
After transferring still-sound-asleep Luca and half-dazed Reni into the stroller and closing the cover, I loaded their change of clothes and snacks into the undercarriage and followed the directions Kelly had messaged us.
I hoped today's schedule wouldn't be too hard on the kids.
Cassandra took the lead.
"Looks like we have to cut through the set to get to the designated waiting room."
"Yeah. Following these arrows, it should be that way—oh…"
"Yep, this is it."
We rounded a corner in the corridor and pushed open a heavy door—and stepped into a completely different world. A high-ceilinged, wide-open space stretched out before us.
Confronted with the actual shooting set, I was overwhelmed by the ranks of massive cameras, the blinding lights, and the staff bustling every which way.
"Oh my gosh, Jun! The publisher really went all-out on this set. It looks like a real professional chef's kitchen."
"…Yeah, it does."
I answered carefully, fighting not to let my voice shake. If I'd only been here to watch, I would have been genuinely excited. But now I was the one who had to stand out there and shoot…?
I'd known that in my head. Seeing the real thing hit differently. The pressure was suddenly very real.
I was still standing there, speechless, when Kelly spotted us and hurried over.
"Good morning, you two! Are the kids still asleep?"
"Good morning. We figured there'd be a little time before shooting starts, so we haven't woken them yet."
Kelly nodded and guided us toward the waiting room.
"Perfect, that was the right call. Jun's shoot is first, so… shall we head inside and talk?"
Once the waiting-room door shut behind us, the noise of the set was almost completely cut off. But the waiting room had a commotion all its own—and it glittered.
Huge mirrors ringed with light bulbs lined every wall, and they were hemmed in by racks of dazzling makeup tools and hangers loaded with outfits, turning the space into something that felt almost like its own little rooms.
On top of that, more people than I could possibly make sense of were rushing around. Why did there need to be this many people?
And then the man who was clearly king of this domain—a male makeup artist dressed head to toe in black—took one look at me, grabbed my hand without warning, and shook it.
"Mello Brown. Pleasure."
"Jun. Likewise."
After the handshake, Mello gave a satisfied nod and steered me toward a chair in front of the mirror.
I glanced at Cassandra once—entrusting the kids to her—and sat down in a chair that looked like it belonged in a salon.
With his catlike upturned eyes and full smoky makeup, Mello suddenly shoved his face right into mine. It was extremely uncomfortable, but I tried not to show it.
"Not bad, not bad. But please tell me you're not shooting in that outfit today."
I answered on reflex, shaking my head.
"No—I brought a separate shirt."
"Good. Tania, take the clothes and get them pressed."
Without so much as a glance behind him, Mello ordered his staff, then stepped on the pedal to raise my chair and tipped it straight back.
"There we go. Just lean back and relax."
With a soft hiss, the backrest reclined.
The dentist-chair sensation made me flinch upright on instinct. Instantly Mello and a staffer who'd appeared at my side shoved my shoulders back down from both sides.
…Terrifying.
Lying there staring at the ceiling, I saw a sharp-looking woman tell me to close my eyes—and then a damp towel settled over my face.
"…"
After that, I had no idea what was happening.
Something was slathered on and wiped off. Eyebrows were trimmed. Something else was slathered on and wiped off. My face went hot, then cool…
It felt like someone had been dunking only my face in a sauna and pulling it back out again and again. Completely foreign. Somehow refreshing, though, which I had to admit was nice.
A little later, someone righted the chair. I carefully opened my eyes—and my face already looked brighter.
I was quietly impressed. So this was what a professional's touch looked like.
I thought maybe we were done. Not even close. A forest of pins went into my hair, and the real makeup began.
From then on, something extraordinary was happening all over my face.
There were moments I wanted to protest that you absolutely should not put that color on a person—but what did I know? I stayed quiet and did as I was told.
"Close your eyes."
Yes. I answered only in my head, opening and closing my eyes on command. Raising and lowering my chin, over and over.
"Good. Open. Look up."
Yes… ugh.
Mascara—the kind Cassandra used—was being painted onto my eyebrows. Wasn't this a little much?
When a brush loaded with faintly red-tinted lipstick swept across my lips, I was inwardly a little horrified, but Mello's expression was so deadly serious and intimidating that I didn't dare say a word.
I didn't even have the presence of mind to stop Cassandra, who was filming the whole thing.
"Okay. Time to change."
After what felt like an endless makeup session, the fitting began.
I'd assumed I'd simply put on the shirt I'd brought. I was wrong.
A woman who introduced herself as the coordinator came over, held various pieces—including my own shirt—up against me, then pressed several garments into my hands and told me to go change and come back out.
Was it just me, or did everyone who worked here look a little scary?
Only after I stepped into the changing room, shielded from every pair of eyes, could I finally breathe.
I dropped into a chair and let out a quiet sigh. My body and soul already felt wrung dry.
This wasn't a movie poster shoot. It was just photos for a recipe book. Did it really have to be this intense…?
"…"
But I was a complete novice at this. Anyone in this room would know far more about the job than I did. Better to keep my mouth shut and follow along.
I changed carefully so the makeup wouldn't transfer onto the clothes.
The moment I stepped out of the changing room, Mello and the coordinator—who'd been waiting right outside—started critiquing me on the spot.
"Looking good."
"Not bad, but let's try something a little more chic."
Chic? We were shooting with the kids…
I didn't say that out loud. I just snuck a glance toward where the boys were—and Cassandra flashed me a big thumbs-up. The kids still seemed to be asleep.
While my mind wandered, the two of them kept trading opinions, then handed me another few outfits and steered me right back into the changing room.
Only after the third change of clothes did we finally get to the blow-dry and a touch-up of the makeup—and right on cue, the kids woke up.
"Dadaa?"
"Hey. Reni, you awake?"
Waking up in a completely unfamiliar place after a good nap would have been enough to startle anyone.
Reni looked around a few times, then seemed to remember what I'd said about the shoot today. He nodded once, clapped his hands, and looked up at me again with a smile.
"Dadaa, pretty?"
"Yeah—uh-huh… Thanks."
"Oh my goodness, what an adorable baby."
Mello clapped and approached Reni, and every eye in the room swung toward them.
I had to ask.
"You're not going to put makeup on the kids too, are you?"
Thankfully, the answer was no.
Reni, however, was put through endless rounds of accessories and hats on top of the clothes we'd brought—on, off, on, off.
The one mercy was that he didn't have to change himself, so he didn't look worn out. If anything, Reni seemed to be enjoying it.
Luca, on the other hand—who had been fed first thing after waking—flatly rejected every other pair of hands, so I had to dress him myself.
"There. All done. Our baby's so handsome."
I smiled and gently squeezed Luca's cheek. He looked up at me, tilted his head, and grinned.
…Don't tell me you like Dad in makeup too. That might be a problem.
Still, it was a huge relief that Luca didn't seem too bothered by this crowded, unfamiliar place.
Our baby really was such a trooper, every single time.
"Dadaa! I got a pretty hat!"
Reni came running over, delighted, in a white sailor hat with blue stripes, eager to show it off.
"Wow, that hat looks great on you, Reni."
Reni grinned and threw up a peace sign at Cassandra, who was pointing her camera at him.
"Auu-ah."
"Yeah, pretty, right? Want to try it too, Luca?"
"Mm."
Reni held out the hat, and Luca studied it carefully.
It was so cute I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture.
Once again, I was pretty sure Reni deserved a lot of the credit for how quickly Luca was getting over his stranger anxiety.
I'd assumed that once makeup and fitting were done, shooting would start right away. That didn't seem to be the case either.
"Model ready? Then please stand by for a bit."
A staffer from the shoot side had come by to check on us, ordered us to wait, and never came back.
So we ended up waiting quite a while.
In the meantime the staff tidied their gear, conferred about the next shoot after mine, and periodically checked that I was still in one piece.
Luca and Reni played in the stroller with a picture book and a sound keyboard.
I was glad we'd packed plenty of toys and snacks.
I was doing my best to ignore Cassandra, who was alternating nonstop between video and stills while watching the kids, when Evan appeared.
"Editor."
Music was playing in the waiting room, and people were busy enough with their own work and conversations that no one paid attention unless someone walked in with a loud, specific request.
So Evan and I were able to stand off to one side and have a reasonably private conversation.
"You look fantastic today. If I didn't already know you, I would have believed someone who told me you were a famous celebrity."
"Thank you."
Any attempt at modesty would only have felt more awkward, so I answered simply and moved on.
"I didn't expect you to come, though, Editor."
"When my schedule allows, I try to be on set. That way I can make requests of the director if anything comes up. Of course I trust Kelly and the rest of the team, but…"
True to form for a workaholic—showing a side that would have been deeply intimidating if he'd been my boss—Evan suddenly gave a hollow little laugh.
"Today I was able to stop by because I had time after meeting with the lawyer this morning."
"Ah…"
"Apparently a few things were missing from the divorce paperwork."
"Ah. Right…"
No—what exactly was I supposed to say to that? I studied his face carefully, then asked cautiously.
"Um… are you all right?"
"Of course. Though it's a hassle that the divorce process will drag on for another six months or so."
"That long?"
"Yes. And now that there are no more people around me who don't know, it's even more annoying."
"Ah… So your family all knows now?"
Evan nodded.
"Yes. I didn't actually want to tell them this soon, but everyone already knew Grace had given birth, so there was no real way not to."
That tracked.
A man who had once seemed to have everything anyone could want, reduced to this. Separate from whether I particularly liked him, I felt genuinely sorry for him.
"Still, doesn't family help a lot? It seems better than suffering through it alone."
I tried to steer the conversation somewhere brighter, but the answer I got was unexpected.
"I don't know. Some of them are against the divorce and tell me I should just stay."
"What?"
"They say the same thing Grace did. That if I was going to adopt anyway, what's the difference."
What kind of logic was that.
Evan seemed to read the words I couldn't quite bring myself to say, and gave a bitter smile.
"Grace's family is a big deal."
"Ah…"
"Even Vanessa, the writer we brought on for this project—if it hadn't been for my wife… for Grace, she would have been a very hard person to land."
After a moment of apparent deliberation, Evan looked at me with something like resolve and made his request.
"So when this recipe book comes out, I hope people pay attention to you, Jun—not to her."