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Opal

They’d scheduled the shoot months ago, which meant it had already been paid for. Otherwise, she would have canceled it. Opal arrived ten minutes early, arms laden with boxes.

Faiza met her at the studio door, phone in hand and cross expression on her face. “Where have you been? I’ve been messaging you, like, five times an hour for days.”

“I’ve been sorting out some things. Getting a little headspace.”

“I literally could not find anyone who would agree to do your makeup. So I’ve got Taylor again, but I promised you would be nice to her. So be nice.”

“Taylor? Is that the one with the face tattoos?”

“Taylor is the one with no face tattoos.”

“That narrows it down.”

“I also had to agree to pay her double.” Faiza stepped back, cringing a little, waiting for the onslaught.

“Fair enough.”

“...Fair enough? That’s it?”

She handed Faiza the largest of the boxes, a white one with a large pink bow. “This is for you.”

Faiza eyed it suspiciously. “What is it? A bomb?”

“Ha ha. Don’t open it until we’re finished here, all right?”

“Have you heard from GlowUpp?”

“We’ll talk about it when we’re finished. I don’t want to waste Taylor’s morning.” She swanned into the studio, calling, “Who wants a smoothie and a carrot muffin?”

She brought the box of food and drink over to the corner of the studio, where a person was doing her best to shrink into the background. Opal recognized her.

“Hi, Taylor.” Taylor flinched. “Listen, I know I was a cow the last time we met, and I’m sorry. I know you are very good at your job. I’m going to let you get on with it.” Opal proffered the smoothie. “Try this, it’s full of antioxidants and it will give you energy. You can barely even taste the kale.”

Faiza approached her. “What happened to you?”

“Pardon?”

“What happened to you? What’s wrong? Why are you acting this way?”

“Let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate the virtue of working collaboratively.” Opal sat in the chair in front of the mirror. “Shall we get started? Remember, last time you had this great idea about extra powder. I think it’s going to be magical.”

* * *

Taylor took the muffins with her when she left, almost in a daze. Opal had never in her life acted this nice, not without expecting something in return. It wasn’t so bad.

“What was that all about?” Faiza asked her.

“I thought you wanted me to be more pleasant to work with,” Opal said, wiping the last of the GlowUpp off her face. One bright spot: she wasn’t going to have to wear this crap anymore.

“Yes, but this is weird. It’s like you’ve been taken over by aliens. Have you?”

“Open the box.”

It was full of roses. The scent burst out into the studio.

“It’s a plant,” Opal told her. “Bouquets die too easy.”

“Why,” said Faiza, “are you giving me flowers.”

She asked it in much the same manner as you would ask why a dog had pissed on your curtains.

“Because you have been an excellent employee and I have been a terrible employer. You have done everything I’ve asked you, and more, for very little pay, and you have never failed to call me out on my bullshit even though I never listened. What’s more, I like you. So, I owe you an apology, and this is it. Look at what else is in the box.”

“Are there thorns?”

“Maybe. Good point. I didn’t think of that. Be careful.”

Faiza reached in gingerly and took out a long white envelope. As Opal watched, she opened it to reveal quite a large stack of cash.

“I know this doesn’t make up for making your life hell,” said Opal. “But it’s your fair share of the GlowUpp sponsor money. You worked hard to help me land that deal. You deserve it.”

Faiza was speechless. Opal threw the cotton pad in the trash and stood up.

“And Faiza? If you were a man, you would have asked for this money months and months ago. Don’t be afraid to be a bitch. Sometimes it’s the only way to get what you want.”

* * *

She’d spoken with GlowUpp the afternoon before. They were terminating their sponsorship; they said they wanted to “concentrate on an up-and-coming consumer base and build brand loyalty from that end.”

Thus it ever had been: middle-aged women abandoned for younger models. It was no surprise. At least she could stop looking like a melted candle.

She had a few irons in the fire, but nothing for nearly the same money as GlowUpp had been. And recent events had blown her back-up plan for getting funds. She’d hold on to Faiza for as long as she could, but odds were, she was going to have to let her go soon. That was okay; Faiza was tough and as soon as she recognized her own value, she’d be able to land any job she wanted.

And Opal...Opal would be back to using selfie sticks, recording her own videos, building content the old-fashioned way. Or maybe she’d get a job as a personal trainer. Or maybe she’d try something else.

She was a survivor. She would be all right.

She had to be.

It was raining as she emerged from the train station closest to her apartment, but only a light misting, the kind of rain that feels cool against your face, the kind you pray for when you’re having hot flushes. She caught herself humming under her breath, and smiled when she recognized the song. “All the Single Ladies”—a song that should be associated in her head with the scent of blood and the sound of slicing cartilage, but wasn’t. It made her feel like dancing, right here in the street in the misty rain.

The girls would laugh at me if they saw that , she thought, and sobered.

That was the only real problem. Not the lost sponsorship, or the money she didn’t have, or the career that was so precarious that one phone call could ruin it. She was used to all that. She was used to being alone, too.

The problem was that for those few days with Marina and Lilah, for the first time in a long time, she’d had friends. And though she knew that friends were a liability—and she was fine with being alone—she didn’t like feeling lonely.

She turned the corner and power-walked towards her building. She’d keep going, keep moving. Whatever didn’t kill her made her stronger. She would stay strong.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the man calling her name the first time.

But the second time, he got her complete attention.

“Opal, can I talk to you for a minute?”

He looked scruffy. He was holding out his phone towards her. He had a rat-like, eager look. Not a policeman, but...

“What do you want?”

“I’d like to have a few words with you about Weight&See.”

He said it as all one word, like it had been printed on the boxes and promotional material, all those years ago.

Opal turned around. She ran.