Chronicles of a Lincoln Park Fashionista by Aven Ellis Page A

goggles around my eyebrows and spray painted the skin around them bright red. I look like I have a chemical burn. Oh my God. I look awful. Beyond awful.
    And Deke will be shooting me in less than two hours.
    “Please tell me it looks better,” I beg Bree.
    We’re back at my apartment, in my bathroom, and I’ve applied tons of aloe vera gel to the skin around my eyebrows in a desperate attempt to take out the redness.
    “It’s still really red,” Bree says, frowning. “I can’t believe she overheated the wax like that. I’ve never seen anyone so burned after an eyebrow waxing.”
    “Damn it,” I snap, whirling away from the mirror. “I can’t make Deke reschedule. We’re already behind on my personal life shooting. But I can’t go on camera like this.”
    And applying makeup to cover it isn’t an option, as I have nothing but raw skin around my eyebrows.
    Bree bites her lip, and I know she’s trying to think of a solution.
    “Maybe you can tell him you’re sick,” she says. “That you have a viral infection or something contagious.”
    I consider that idea. But then I remember how Deke blew off shooting the night Bree was having her Alex meltdown, and I don’t feel right bailing on him at the last minute today.
    “No,” I say, sighing heavily. “I can’t.”
    I turn away from my sink in defeat, thinking I’ll be comic fodder for all of America with my neon, cherry-red eyebrow burn. But then my eyes fall on my purse, which I have tossed on my bed, and peeking out of my bag are my precious oversized Roberto Cavalli sunglasses.
    “That’s it,” I say, seeing the obvious solution in front of me.
    “What?” Bree asks, wrinkling her brow.
    I move over to my purse. I triumphantly put on my sunglasses and turn around to face Bree.
    “I think I’m going to have Mr. Ryan do an outdoor shoot today. One of me strolling through Lincoln Park on a hot summer day,” I explain, grinning at Bree. “And I wouldn’t be appropriately attired for that setting without my fabulous oversized sunglasses, now would I?”
    Show time.
    I put on my sunglasses as Deke knocks on my door. I’ve changed into a gorgeous ZAC by Zac Posen summery skirt, one that is yellow with a beautiful floral pattern on it and has a ruffle hem. I’ve paired it with a white ribbed tank top, and I feel soft and pretty in it.
    And with my eyebrow wax burn hidden by my fabulous oversized sunglasses, no one will ever know that my skin is completely fried to a crisp behind them.
    I open the door and smile at Deke. “Hello,” I say cheerfully.
    He furrows his brow as he stares at my sunglasses. “Uh, hi,” he says slowly, still studying me. “Is there a glare in your apartment or something?”
    I keep the smile plastered on my face as I let him inside. “No, of course not. But I thought you could shoot me walking around my neighborhood this afternoon. Because I love to do that on Saturdays. I love shopping in Lincoln Park, and I thought you could shoot me doing that today.”
    Deke puts his gear down on the floor, his blue-green eyes lasering in on me.
    “Okay. But I want to do another one-on-one interview session with you first,” he says.    
    Damn it . I anxiously tug on the beaded necklace around my neck.
    “Uh, sure,” I say. I lug over a barstool to the living room, as I know I will sit on it in front of a backdrop Deke will set up.
    He’s still studying me with a furrowed brow as I casually stand in the living room with my sunglasses on.
    “Why are you wearing sunglasses?” he asks.
    “Because we’re going outside,” I say simply, sitting down on the stool and crossing my legs.
    “Yeah, but not now.”
    “So I’m prepared,” I say defiantly, wishing he’d quit staring at me. “Boy Scouts aren’t the only ones who prepare, you know.”
    I can tell by the inquisitive expression on his face he’s not buying that for one second.
    “So you’re prepared,” Deke says slowly, moving closer to me. “I’ll give you a