2
Olivia Mercier, Interstellar Brides Program Testing Center, Backstage
I heard the alien’s voice rumble through the walls and strained to make out what he was saying. Unfortunately the entire set was buzzing with excitement. Everyone was talking, rushing around like angry wasps under attack, moving cameras, checking mics, lighting. The fast-paced insanity of a live show had people amped like they had an IV of coffee direct into their veins.
“Makeup!” The yell from one of the show’s producers had me scrambling.
It wasn’t my name, but that was what I was called. Makeup. I was a faceless employee who did her job without being noticed.
“That’s me. What do you need?” I asked the older gentleman who was frowning at one of the two women the Atlan warlord had chosen as his finalists. Her nam
