"Alright, everyone! Let's call it a day. It's been wonderful working with you all, and I really appreciate your contributions! Go home, get some rest, and have fun. You deserve it!" Gabriella wore a beaming smile as she addressed the crew, earning a round of cheers.
Her smile widened at the applause; nothing was more satisfying than a job well done. Now that the videos and pictures were ready, all that remained was posting them on the company's social media for promotion. The recognition the makeup brand would garner depended on the success of these tutorial videos.
Luckily, BeautyPlus had an immense fan base, further enhanced by its partnership with Laura and her agency.
Gabriella was confident in the product launch campaign's success and felt grateful to have such a dedicated team. Still smiling, she picked her leather coat from an isolated rack and draped it over her body. The furry collar felt fluffy and warm as it brushed against her sun-kissed neck.
"Drink? You must be exhausted." Ortega offered, blocking her path and holding out a disposable cup of steaming hot coffee.
Gabriella looked at the coffee, then at Ortega, her polite smile never wavering. "No thanks," she said gently. "I don't drink coffee, but that was nice of you."
"Oh." Ortega muttered, looking a bit confused. He quickly stepped aside, realizing he was in her way.
Gabriella nodded and made her way across the studio to the exit, receiving waves and praise from her colleagues dismantling their equipment. She returned the smiles and waves, feeling like a celebrity on the red carpet. The energy in the room was infectious, and for a moment, she basked in it.
However, her smile kept faltering, almost melting into a frown. She maintained it, though, like an adolescent whose braces were stuck, and kept her head facing forward, chin raised. Through clenched teeth, she asked, "Why are you following me?"
"Following you?" Ortega looked at her like she had just told a hilarious joke. "I'm not. We're just headed in the same direction." He flashed a quick smile at a model who breezed past them. "What makes you think so?"
"You're holding a damn cup, matching my strides, and our shoulders are almost touching!" Gabriella spared him a side glare as she tugged at the lapels of her expensive French coat. "What is it?"
"Oh, it's nothing serious." Ortega waved dismissively with a sheepish smile. "I just wanted to know why I had to be the 'lipstick shadewatcher'." He said the role like it was the worst job in the world.
Gabriella stopped and faced him, causing Ortega to halt as well. She looked exasperated. "But you liked it, didn't you?"
"I..." Ortega hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess."
"I don't see the point of this discussion, Ortega." Gabriella folded her arms. "Seriously, what were you expecting? That I was going to assign you some big task? Dream on! I only needed professionals—people I could trust!"
Ortega's eyes remained calm. "I get that. It was a great decision, really. Everything came out perfectly, and everyone's happy. But I feel I'd perform better if I'm given a more standard role."
"What are you insinuating?" Gabriella frowned.
"Let me handle step three," he asked.
"No way in hell I'm letting that happen," Gabriella replied sharply.
"Come on," Ortega spread his arms, careful not to spill the coffee. "I'm pretty good at persuasion. I bet I'd do a great job." He winked, trying to lighten the mood.
"That's what you think," Gabriella's expression remained unimpressed.
"Let me prove you wrong, then," he challenged, a spark of determination in his eyes.
"Careful." She narrowed her eyes. "Don't bite off more than you can chew."
Ortega pressed his lips together, aware he might have gone too far. He backtracked, "Gabriella, all you had me do on set was crack jokes and lift spirits."
"No, I wanted you watching the lipstick shades," she pointed out, her tone both awkward and assertive. "Cracking jokes and goofing around was your decision."
Ortega smiled reminiscently. "Yeah. I still want to be a part of the process, though."
"And I'm telling you it's not going to happen. Know your place," she said coldly.
Like a balloon, Ortega felt his enthusiasm deflate. But he wasn't giving up yet. "Well, you've got to have me do something significant at least. I can't be an intern forever!"
"Were you even listening to Velvet?" Gabriella shot back.
"I was," Ortega exhaled. "She told me to take this as a learning opportunity."
"Exactly. You know what you're asking is a direct breach of order, right?" Gabriella pounded, mercilessly making sure Ortega was aware of the implications.
"I—It's just... The way I see it, I won't learn if I'm not putting experience into practice," he explained, his voice softening.
Gabriella was quiet for the first time. She held his gaze, searching for any trace of surrender. Nothing stared back but fierce resolution. She couldn't deny there was some logic in what he said.
"...Ortega, get some rest," she managed with a tired frown, breaking eye contact.
"But—"
"That'll be all." Her tone was final. Giving him a curt nod, she spun on her timberland boots and continued her way.
"Did I get a yes?" Ortega called out, closing his left eye. He knew he was being annoying, but he had to know.
"I'll sleep on it," came the distant reply.
Ortega sighed, feeling anxious as he watched Gabriella leave the studio. He wanted so badly to be the spearhead of step three that he risked a clash with his direct superior.
Although he seemed serious, Ortega knew it was all just for show. He had wanted to protest the moment Gabriella said he would be the 'lipstick shadewatcher' but decided against it. Only a conceited, immature, insecure fool would throw a fit over an assignment he didn't want. But Ortega couldn't help pondering Gabriella's motive. Was it because there was nothing left for him to do? Or was it to humor herself and hurt his pride? Ortega mostly leaned toward the latter, so he had acted cheerful to spite her and keep the atmosphere light-hearted.
He didn't like the setup and had waited until Gabriella was alone to confront her. He felt he deserved some recognition, at least. Ortega wanted to be known for something substantial, not as a funny, attention-seeking clown.
It was an insult to his capabilities, and more than anything, Ortega wanted to prove his worth. Suggesting to oversee step three was bold and a way to gauge how much Gabriella trusted him.
"Well, she did say she was going to sleep on it," Ortega tried to assure himself, wondering if Gabriella would keep her word.
Whether or not she gave him the leeway, Ortega had already steeled his mind to make apt preparations. He wanted to be several steps ahead.
He looked at the coffee cup in his grasp and felt his throat run dry. He was thirsty and had never drunk coffee before. The scent of the now lukewarm liquid was nice, so he shrugged and brought the cup to his lips.
Taking his first sip, he grimaced.
"What the hell? I thought black coffee had chocolate in it."