I mixed business with family, and it blew up in my face. I trusted my half-sister to keep her promise, but she acted like she was doing me a favor when I was the one giving everything. In the end, she faced the consequences.
I’m Tricia, 25, and I work as a freelance hair and makeup artist on weekends. It’s not a huge income, but it pays the bills and fills me with joy because I love helping women feel confident and beautiful. I have a stepsister, Sabrina, who’s 28.
She’s always been the golden child. I was the one who took responsibility, kept the peace, and smoothed things over. Our relationship has always been shaky.
Sabrina has a knack for taking advantage, knowing the family puts her on a pedestal. She leans into it. We even had a falling out once because of it.
Back when I was starting as a makeup artist, Sabrina told one of her friends I’d do her birthday hair and makeup—full glam, which is pricey—for free, just because I was her stepsister. She never bothered to tell me. When I spoke to the client and quoted my actual price, she was shocked.
Her friend thought it was a favor and expected it to cost nothing. It was awkward for both of us, and it caused a rift between Sabrina and me. So when she called months before her wedding, I thought maybe she was trying to mend things.
Her voice was sugary sweet. “Sooo, you’ll do my hair and makeup, right? And the bridesmaids too.
Six of them. You’re so talented.”
I paused. “That’s a lot of people.
I’ll need to bring an assistant.”
She cut me off. “No worries, I’ll pay. Just give me the family discount.”
For once, she wasn’t expecting free work.
I agreed, quoting $500—a steal for seven full looks with hair. She accepted immediately. No contract, because she was family.
On the wedding day, I arrived with my assistant. The scene was chaos—dresses draped over chairs, nerves crackling in the air. Sabrina spotted me and crossed her arms.
“Well, look who finally showed up.”
I kept calm. “I’m here on time, Sabrina. We need to start soon to get everyone ready.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Just don’t overcharge me. Remember, it’s family.”
I met her gaze, staying firm. “We agreed on the price.
Let’s keep this professional today.”
She went quiet for a moment, then tossed her hair. “Fine. Just do your job and don’t screw it up.”
I nodded, refusing to let her get under my skin.
“Let’s get started then.”
My assistant and I unpacked our kits and got to work. We worked nonstop for hours. When we finished, the bridesmaids gasped at their reflections, thrilled.
Even the photographer complimented our work. Sabrina, though, was tougher to please. She demanded I redo her eyeliner three times.
She huffed as I leaned in with the brush again. “Ugh, it’s still uneven. Do you even know what you’re doing?”
I set the brush down and met her eyes in the mirror.
“Sabrina, this is the third time. I’m doing my best, but makeup isn’t magic.”
She gave a sharp laugh. “I thought you were supposed to be a pro.”
My hands trembled slightly, but my voice stayed even.
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