#Chapter 138: Last Call

Abby We exit hair and makeup, and I can’t help but feel like an impostor beneath this mask of perfectly-caked makeup. Just like yesterday, it feels like an uncomfortable facade, a porcelain mask covering the real Abby. I can’t help but wonder to myself: why is this amount of makeup necessary for a cooking show? Shouldn’t my abilities be judged, not my face? I glance over at Karl as we walk out of the hair and makeup room. He’s still wearing his blue surgical mask, but the makeup that I can see on his face is much lighter than mine. “Geez, Abby,” he says as he looks at me. “You like like a…” “Don’t,” I hiss. I don’t want to think about it, not now. Instead, I focus my attention on my chef’s jacket. The fabric is stiff and a little itchy from the starching they put it through to look ‘camera-perfect’, much unlike my own uniform, which is comfortably worn down after years of use. “Need help with that?” Karl offers, his own jacket already perfectly buttoned. “No, I