LUNA
“Take forty-six,” a weary commercial director called out. “And … action!”
“Hello, all you gorgeous Pentangle residents.” Luna, the lead singer of the band SPACEPOP, stood with her back to the camera and shook out her long golden hair. “Love my locks? Well, let me tell you all about Solar Glow, an out-of-this-world new hair-care line that will make your hair look like this!” Luna spun around and beamed at the camera. “Bad hair days begone!”
“Cut!” someone yelled from the edge of the set. A formal-looking older fellow stepped out of the shadows, smiling apologetically. “Cut, cut!”
“What is it, Chamberlin?” a producer asked, obviously irritated. One of the female alien’s two heads glanced at the clock and grumbled, “We really need to wrap things up here.”
The older guy—Chamberlin—stepped forward and explained, “As I’ve told you approximately forty-six times already, you are not to show Miss Luna’s face in this commercial. We all agreed that this spot is to be only about her hair.”
Luna pouted. She loved her hair, but her face was undoubtedly her best feature. And Luna loved for it to be seen. “But, Chamberlin—”
Chamberlin cut her off. “No buts, Your Hi—” Chamberlin stopped himself just in time. Though he had been living with the five princesses of the Pentangle for over a month, he sometimes forgot the girls were in disguise and he was no longer allowed to call any of them “Your Highness” when there were other creatures nearby. If anyone were to find out the band SPACEPOP was actually a cover for the five missing princesses, they would be in for some serious trouble. Geela and her extensive army of Android Soldiers were searching for the missing girls everywhere.
Just over a month ago, Geela had taken the kings and queens of the Pentangle prisoner and declared herself empress, and Chamberlin had been given the task of helping the princesses escape and then keeping them safe. Though the experienced royal butler would have preferred that he and his charges hide on a remote planet until life in the galaxy was back to normal, the five princesses came up with a very different idea. Not willing to sit by quietly while their homes were destroyed, the young royals disguised themselves as a rock band called SPACEPOP and set off on a tour of the galaxy singing songs about rebellion and peace.
Eager to succeed in the most important assignment of his life—keeping the princesses safe and their true identities a secret—Chamberlin had agreed to act as the band’s “manager” while they were on the road. It was not an easy job. Especially now that the band was achieving a certain level of fame for their music. Luna, especially, could be a bit of a diva. All the girls missed their royal lives.
Chamberlin cleared his throat and went on. “As we have discussed, Luna, the Solar Glow Corporation is not paying you enough to use your face in this commercial. Only hair. And no, we are not willing to negotiate.” The girls’ disguises were still relatively new, and Chamberlin was constantly worried about the five girls being recognized if anyone got a close-enough look at one of them. Broadcasting Luna’s face in a commercial that would air all over the galaxy was too risky. When she had insisted on doing this product endorsement, Chamberlin had made her agree to certain terms.
“Got it,” muttered the weary director. “No face. Only hair. But, dude, can you please inform your talent that she’s as much to blame as anyone? Quit spinning around to smile at the camera, lady!”
Luna clenched her jaw. “Excuse me?”
The director rolled his eyes. “You heard me: quit spinning around. We can’t keep your face hidden if you insist on smiling at the camera.”
“Do you have any idea who I am?” Luna said. “My name is not ‘lady.’”
“Whatever,” the director muttered. “And yeah, of course I know who you are. You’re this week’s hot new thing. I’ve been in this business long enough to see plenty of singers just like you come through my studio. You and SPACEPOP are hot today, but don’t get too full of yourself. It can all be gone, just like that.”
Luna huffed. There were many things she disliked about living in disguise, but this was probably the worst. She hated people treating her with anything less than the full respect she deserved. She couldn’t tell anyone who she really was, and there were times—like now—that she would absolutely love to announce, “I am Lunaria de Longoria, the princess of Lunaria,” to see how quickly the lowly creature would bow and avert his eyes. She could just imagine the look on that sniveling director’s face if he learned her true identity. He was full of himself for no reason. She, on the other hand, deserved it.
“Remember, Luna,” Chamberlin whispered. “No showing your face. That was the deal we made. We can’t risk you being recognized—it’s for your own safety, and the safety of the other girls.”
“Fine,” Luna snapped. Then she sighed, thinking of how awful it would be if she ruined things for the four fellow princesses she now considered her friends—the first true friends she (or any of them) had ever really had. Quietly, she added, “I get it.”
“Take forty-seven,” the director grumbled. “And … action!”
This time, Luna swung her hair and recited her lines like a pro. She’d had plenty of experience with photo shoots during her years as princess of Lunaria, and she knew how to buckle down and get things done when she had to. Though she wasn’t thrilled with the end result, she decided take forty-seven was good enough. Solar Glow was complete junk, so the commercial didn’t really deserve her best effort anyway. The products smelled like chemicals, and when Luna used them in her own hair, they left her long, gorgeous waves limp and lifeless. She was pretty sure she had even detected a faint green tinge among her golden highlights. And at the edges of her face, Luna’s soft buttery-yellow skin had started to burn a little after she’d left the hair mask on too long.
But because Luna liked the attention and loved that she was the only member of SPACEPOP asked to endorse the line of Solar Glow products, she had quickly said yes when she was offered the paid opportunity. The funds would help her refresh her makeup collection. Besides, she felt guilty that most of the residents of the Pentangle couldn’t afford the hair creams and cleansers she used in her own hair—Solar Glow was (maybe) better than using nothing at all. Even if the things she said about Solar Glow weren’t true, it’s not as if a few little white lies would hurt anyone.
No one would ever have to know—just like all the other secrets she and the other princesses of the Pentangle had been keeping.
Copyright © 2016 by Genius Brands International, Inc.
