First Comes Loathe (Blue Collar Bensons #1) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,4

like she hadn’t spent the majority of the night partying. Or at least that’s how she assumed she’d spent the previous night. The details were fuzzy at best.

Which reminded her. Coffee alone wouldn’t cut it today.

She opened the mini medicine cabinet in her trailer’s bathroom and pulled out the little vial she kept on hand for just this kinda day. Which unfortunately seemed like most days, lately. This would take care of the fact she’d only gone to bed an hour or two ago.

Michaela twisted the cap, pulled out the snuff spoon, then frowned. “Shit,” she murmured. “I’m out? How can I be fucking out?” Dammit. A bump of coke would have been perfect. Now she’d have to suffer with nothing more potent than caffeine to get her through the early morning shoot.

It would have been painful with the coke; now it was going to be downright excruciating.

“What fucking choice do I have? I’m the goddammed star,” she muttered as she left the bathroom. After shoving her feet in some sandals, she exited the trailer.

Becca waited with her back against the trailer, using two thumbs to type on her phone furiously. “Ready?” she asked without looking up. “We gotta book it. They’ve been ready for you for twenty minutes.”

Michaela snorted then took a long sip of the tepid coffee. “They can fucking wait. Not like they’re gonna start shooting without me.”

“Yeah, but sunrise is—”

She shook her coffee cup in her assistant’s face. “I’m gonna need another one of these as soon as this is empty, which will be in about five seconds.”

“Okay, sure.” Her assistant fell in step beside her.

“And I need to run an errand after we wrap up for today.”

“I’ll get you whatever you need.” Becca’s eager to please eyes came shining through even in the darkness.

“What? No, I said I’d do it.” She never had her staff meet with her dealer, well, except for the ones who bought from him too, and Becca was definitely not one of those assistants. She was as gleaming as a recently polished shoe. “God, why the fuck is it so bright out here?” Michaela shielded her eyes as she passed under a lamp in the lot. “Fucking middle of the night.”

Becca shot her a side-eyed frown but wisely kept her trap shut. The caffeine hadn’t done shit to wake Michaela up, and, frankly, she felt like garbage. The walk to the hair and makeup trailer only took a few moments. Not long enough get her blood flowing and make her feel human.

When she stepped into the well-lit space, she flinched as the shocking bright lights assaulted her senses. “Fuck, can we turn a few of those down?” she asked without greeting anyone.

Ralph, her best friend and long-time stylist gave an elegant snort. “Uh, no, babe. We most certainly cannot.” Then he frowned. “With the way you look this morning, I’m gonna need all the tricks in my bag, and I can’t work my magic in the dark.” Then he winked. “Well not the kinda magic you need, anyway. Sit that skinny ass down in my chair,” he said as he spun the salon chair toward her. Then he tilted his head and gave her a long up and down look. “You losing more weight, Mick?” His voice took on a note of concern, matching the frown pulling down his lips. She’d known him since the first week she’d moved to LA. They’d climbed the cinema ladder together, and he refused to call her Scarlett in private.

“What?” She shuffled over to his station in front of the mirror and plopped into the chair. “No. I actually need to drop a few pounds.” Someone had commented on a social media post from a few weeks ago that the dress she’d been wearing made her look fat. Last thing she needed was a viral post about how fluffy she’d become.

She leaned forward, examining herself in the mirror. Oh man, Ralph wasn’t kidding. She looked rough. “My mane needs some serious help this morning, babe.”

Coming to stand behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, sweetheart. I have eyes. Speaking of eyes, Libby is gonna need to put about a gallon of concealer under yours. Wild night?”

Had it been? She shrugged. Maybe.

Ralph frowned as he switched on a hair straightener. “One of those again, huh? Mic, we’ve all had ’em, but maybe you could do me a favor and save the extra wild nights for days when you don’t have to be on