I have found an occupation to keep my wife busy and out of my hair. She is assisting with the male offspring of our area and I am surprised by her natural maternal instincts.
—The journal of Isaac Ryland
The makeup smelled like flour as the young man patted another layer on Grant’s face.
“Normally you don’t need so much,” he said. “Your skin tone is so even.”
Grant felt like a woman, sitting in the chair having his bruised face hidden under the pancake. Greg Finnegan’s crew had arrived and they’d made one of Grant’s studies a prep room. They were not wasting time getting Grant prepped for his final interview as a single man. Even though Grant was running on next to no sleep, he smirked. Now that his wife was really dead this was actually his first interview with Mr. Finnegan as a single man.
“Was it nerves?” the man asked.
“Excuse me?”
“That made you fall?” he asked. “I’ve been married for two years now and I was a little nervous before the wedding.”
“It wasn’t nerves,” Grant said. He would never take marriage advice from someone who had a minor job on a television program.
“Greg pays us nicely,” the man said. It was like he could read Grant’s thoughts. “I only had to work for two years before I had enough money saved to buy a decent wife. Of course she wasn’t the daughter of our supreme leader.”
“What happened to you?” Ian asked.
Grant looked away from the makeup artist to see Ian walking into the room.
“I want to look good on camera,” Grant said.
“You’ve always turned down the makeup,” Ian said. “I’m glad to see you’re starting to take these things more seriously.”
“All finished,” the makeup man said.
Grant stood up from his chair. He held out his hand and met Ian’s grip. The old man was wearing a pair of white pants and a navy blue polo with navy shoes. The outfit looked like it could have come from Grant’s closet.
Grant reexamined his own attire. He wore a pair of gray pants with a pink cashmere sweater. Ian’s outfit was a bit too summery and Grant was pleased he was the better-dressed man.
“I didn’t expect you so early,” Grant said.
“My morning plans canceled so I thought I would show up early and watch the taping,” Ian said.
He took a seat in the makeup chair and the other man started to pat his face.
“Planning on making an on-air appearance?” Grant asked.
“I’m not ready to rule it out,” Ian said.
The door to the study opened again and Greg Finnegan himself walked inside. Grant tried his best not to roll his eyes at the man. He noticed Greg’s wardrobe. He was in a pair of light blue pants and a lime green striped button-up. His outfit was also something Grant expected to find in his own closet. This was not the usual attire of the television host.
“Ian, Grant, a pleasure as always,” Greg said.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m using your man here,” Ian said.
“Not at all,” Greg said. “Take your time and then he can do me.”
“Are you two mocking me?” Grant asked.
All three men stared at him.
“With the clothes?” Grant asked.
Greg Finnegan started to laugh. Grant felt his ire rise.
“Not at all,” Greg said. “Look around.”
The makeup artist was in jeans, something Grant would never consider wearing, but his shirt was a light purple and white checkered print. The material was cheap, but the design was something Grant found appealing.
“You’ve started a fashion trend,” Greg said. “All men across the country are starting to dress like you, or at least try.”
Grant gave a pressed-lipped smile. He was an original and wanted to keep it that way.
“Just another demonstration of how much the people love you,” Ian said.
Love and adoration were not things Grant was concerned with. He couldn’t wait until today was over with. In fact, he couldn’t wait until Ian’s life was over with and Grant no longer had to deal with these tedious appointments. Once Grant was grand commander he would never make another television appearance on The Greg Finnegan Show.