Make-Up Artist vs. Made-Up Accounts

For three years, my husband and I had lived apart because of our long-distance relationship. Then I landed a bridal makeup job in the city where he often stayed for work. I planned to surprise him after I finished the job, but three days before the wedding, I sprained my wrist. I explained the situation to my client and offered her a full refund, but she refused. "Everyone only gets one special day like this in their life, Felicia! I want my husband to see me at my prettiest on the most important day of our lives! I don't wanna be anything less for him..." I couldn't convince her otherwise, so I decided to bring my apprentice, Dakota McCree, to apply the makeup while I guided her. Then I stepped into the reception hall and came face-to-face with a gigantic banner that made my blood run cold. The groom looked exactly like my husband. He even had the same name. Panicked, I spun around and scanned my surroundings. My own little brother was at the entrance, greeting guests. My childhood best friend was dressed as a bridesmaid, busy making sure everything went according to plan. Dakota hurried over to me with our cosmetics case, her face bright with excitement. "Come on, Felicia! The bride's waiting for us!" I stopped her, unwound the bandage around my wrist, and flexed my fingers. "Change of plan. I think this calls for my personal touch."