Fair of Face
A Monday’s Child Romance
Sienna Waters
Sienna Waters
© 2019 All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior permission by the author except in the case of brief quotations for the purposes of review and non-commercial cases as per law.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events exist solely in the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is pure coincidence. All characters are eighteen years of age or older.
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To N.–
I’d be nothing without you
xxx
Monday’s child is fair of face
Tuesday’s child is full of grace
Wednesday’s child is full of woe
Thursday’s child has far to go
Friday’s child is loving and giving
Saturday’s child works hard for a living
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay
- Traditional Nursery Rhyme
Chapter One
Five o’clock on a Friday afternoon and Kate’s brain was trying to burn a hole through her skull. She scrabbled in her purse to find a tip for the Uber driver and stumbled into a pain pill which she dry swallowed.
“Thanks.”
“Thanks and you have a great day now,” the driver said, sneaking a glance at the handful of change she’d left him with.
She didn’t answer, too busy trying to lug her camera bags and equipment out of the back seat. When everything was piled on the sidewalk she finally took a look around. A restaurant and bar. Neon lights glowed pink and green, though it wouldn’t be dark for hours yet. Plate glass windows showed elegantly thin women sipping martinis. She groaned as a bead of sweat slid all the way from her neck down her spine. Exactly the kind of place Mel always chose, hip and minimalist and pretentious in the way only LA could be. And expensive too, she’d bet.
By the time she’d dragged her bags into the place and refused the offer of the host to store them for her, she was dripping with sweat. She could see Mel across the room, elegant and breezy in white linen, looking as though she’d just stepped out of the salon. Like always. Kate glanced down at her grubby jeans and sneakers and wished for just a second that she’d changed. Screw it, there hadn’t been time to go back to the studio. If Mel wanted her here on time, she’d have to take her as she found her.
“Jesus,” drawled Mel as she approached the small round table. “You look like death.”
And finally, Kate grinned. Mel had that effect on her. Blunt, honest to a fault, and seemingly completely unable to flatter she’d often wondered just how the hell Mel made it in PR.
“Kids’ birthday party,” she said, flopping into the chair opposite Mel.
Mel grimaced, the look odd against the smooth blonde of her hair and the perfect makeup. She lifted a hand and gestured to the waiter.
“Are you still doing that shit?” she asked when she’d ordered two more of whatever was in the glass in front of her. “I thought you were fashion only and intent on... what was it you said? Focussing your art in order to... um, something. I forget.”
“I was drunk when I said that,” Kate pouted. “Besides, parties pay the bills. Fashion doesn’t. And I kind of like eating and having a roof over my head.”
Mel rolled her eyes.
“You’re so not LA,” she said. “Women here pay thousands to have no food.”
Kate laughed and a frosted glass was put in front of her.
“To the weekend,” she said, clinking her glass against Mel’s and taking a burning cold sip. She could feel her headache start to abate. “And what’s with all the mystery?”
“Jeez, give me time to build up to it, build the suspense and all. You can’t want me to just blurt it out, where’s the fun in that?”
“You’ve had three days,” Kate pointed out, downing more of her drink and feeling the coolness spread inside her. “All I got was ‘meet me at five on Friday’ and an address. So technically the suspense has been building itself for the last seventy-two hours.”
“Fine,” huffed Mel.
She bent down and pulled something from her tote bag, then dropped what turned out to be a magazine on the table between them. For a second the restaurant lights gleamed off the glossy cover and Kate couldn’t see what she was supposed to be looking at. Then the colored blurs formed themselves into a face. A familiar face. Dark almond eyes framed by long lashes, long dark hair wild and untamed, olive skin so perfect that it had to be photoshopped. Except it wasn’t. Kate knew that for a fact.
To be fair, Nat Lee’s face was familiar to anyone with eyes. It graced billboards and catwalks, television screens and gossip magazines, it was both strikingly exotic and thoroughly normal in one glance. It was discomforting in the way the eyes stared through you, but the curve of the lips forced you to share the joke, said ‘hey, I might be beautiful, but I’m just like you, amused by all this fashion fuss.’ A shiver ran down Kate’s back.
“You do know who that is?” asked Mel.
“Of course,” Kate said, tearing her eyes away from the magazine cover and looking at Mel instead.
“Nat Lee,” Mell carried on regardless. “Supermodel, the face of a dozen brands, loved by gossip columns, party girl, girlfriend of that actor, oh, what’s his name...”
“Jake Allingham,” Kate filled in reluctantly.
“That’s the one. Face like an angel that one, what I wouldn’t give for five minutes alone with him.”
Kate’s eyes flickered to the magazine and then back to Mel, who was looking surprisingly satisfied with herself.
“I know who she is,” she said. “And what of it?”
Mel hesitated just long enough that the breath Kate was holding grew uncomfortable. Then she grinned. “You’ve got a shoot with her on Monday.”
Suddenly her headache came back with a vengeance, pulsing through her as her heart raced and sweat pooled in the small of her back. Her mouth was so dry it took two attempts to swallow.
“I... what?”
“I pulled some strings,” Mel said. “A photographer dropped out, I just happened to hear about it, so I talked you up. Anyway, long story short, I’ll be having dinner next Thursday with a very handsy agent named Brooks Lyon, and you’ll be shooting Her Royal Highness on Monday. Now say thank you to your Auntie Mel.”
Kate could feel her mouth opening and closing, but no words seemed to be coming out. Mel’s face lost the satisfied look and she leaned forward, peering at Kate in concern.
“You okay, babe?”
She flagged down a waiter and ordered some water, waiting until a glass appeared and then sliding it across to Kate who swallowed at it gratefully. A heartbeat or two passed and Kate calmed a little. Mel looked less worried now, more curious.
“So?” she said, finally.
“Um, thanks,” stuttered Kate. “Thanks a lot, but...”
“Not that, not thanks,” Mel’s hands brushed the words away into the air. “You. What’s this? What’s going on? What’s the deal?”
She leaned in close again and Kate kept her mouth shut, not sure what to say, not knowing how to begin explaining.
“You talk, girl. Or else I’m keeping you here and feeding you drinks until you’re drunk enough to tell me your deepest, darkest secrets,” Mel said.
And she was only half kidding. If there was one thing that defined Mel it was her tenacity. Her ability to wriggle the tiniest nuggets of truth out of pe
ople.
“Mel, I really appreciate this,” Kate said slowly. “But I can’t do it.”
She could feel Nat’s eyes staring up at her from the magazine on the table.
“You can’t do it?” Mel sat back and crossed her legs. “This is the biggest break you’ve had for months. She’s the most famous face in fashion. Shooting her is the dream of every top photographer across the globe. And you’re telling me you can’t do it? Whatever else you’ve got going on on Monday, you cancel it right now.”
“It’s not that, it’s...”
But Mel didn’t let her finish. “Not to mention I pulled strings to get you this gig. I put my reputation on the line by telling Brooks Lyon that you were the best new photographer I knew and that six months from now agents would be begging you to shoot their clients.”
“I know, I know.”
“So what’s the deal then, babe? You don’t slam the door on an opportunity like this one.”
Kate’s brain raced. “I need to be working on my portfolio,” she said. “There’s that staff photographer job in New York I told you about. They need a portfolio by the end of the month for me to be considered. I really need to be focussing my efforts there.”
“Bullshit.”
Kate closed her eyes in surrender. This was pointless. She was going to end up telling Mel at some point. It might as well be now. After all, she had gone out of her way to get her the shoot.
“I know Nat Lee,” she said.
“Everyone knows Nat Lee,” snorted Mel. Then her eyes narrowed. “Oh, that’s not what you meant, is it? Ex-girlfriend?”
Kate’s laugh was bitter. “No, no, nothing like that. I knew her a long time ago.”
And in the back of her head she could hear them. Could hear the taunting words of the girls behind her, could feel their bony fingers grasping at her shirt, asking if she got it at WalMart, sneering at her plain white tennis shoes rimmed with mud. The pain of it took her breath away for a second.
Mel pushed a fresh drink in front of her. “Tell me about it.”
So Kate did. She summoned up her courage and told Mel everything, the teasing, the words, the actions, the feelings, trying to describe the helpless darkness of the bullying she’d undergone for two long years. They’d never physically hurt her those popular, well dressed, perfect little girls. But they hadn’t needed to. Their words had been enough.
“Little bitches,” hissed Mel, when Kate was through.
“Give me a second.”
Kate made her way to the bathroom, threading through the busy restaurant. In front of the calm mirror she splashed cold water on her face before looking at herself. She could still see the freckled, snub-nosed kid she’d been back then. But only barely. The two long blonde braids had been replaced by a shag cut that curled around her neck, white platinum with streaks of rose. Rings climbed up her ears, sparkling silver in the light. Her tan almost hid her freckles. She’d outgrown the chubbiness of youth, emerging long and lean. She wasn’t the same person she used to be.
She ran the cold water over her wrists for a moment, then dried herself off. She didn’t need to think about the past. The past was gone. Long gone. Her grandfather had always told her that it would make her stronger, and perhaps it had. Perhaps.
“You okay?” Mel asked when she returned to the table.
Kate nodded. “Fine.”
“Good. I’ve been thinking. You should do this.”
“But...”
“But nothing, Kate. You deserve this. You can’t let the bitch win yet again just because you’re afraid to see her. Besides, she’s not even going to recognize you. I guarantee it. She sees a thousand people a day, you’re just a woman behind a camera. And you look nothing like you did as a kid. There’s no way in hell she’s going to know who you are.”
“Maybe,” allowed Kate.
She let her eyes stray around the bar, looking for distraction. A tall dark woman with hair in snug little curls that clung to her scalp smiled at her. Her skin was smooth like coffee, her teeth bright and even. Out of habit, Kate smiled back.
“Seen something of interest?” Mel asked, clocking the encounter immediately.
“No.”
Mel laughed. “She’s hot. And she likes you. Look at her body language, the way her legs are pointing towards you. Go and get her number.”
“No,” Kate said firmly.
“Let me guess. You’re better off alone, you don’t need anyone. You work too much, you’re thinking of moving to the East coast. There are always excuses, Kate. Why not have a little fun for once? I’m not saying you should marry the woman, just ask for her number. Have lunch. Have dinner. Have sex for God’s sake.”
A smile twitched the corners of her lips.
“No,” she said again more softly. “Not tonight.”
“But some night,” said Mel. “You have to stop this. There’s no weakness in having someone. Everyone needs more than just themselves. You can’t do everything alone, Little Miss Weight Girl.”
And now Kate grinned. She’d met Mel two years before and it seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d been struggling to stack weights back on the rack at her gym and Mel had offered to help. She’d refused, said she could handle it herself, and Mel had stood back to watch, grinning like a maniac. The only reason she hadn’t ended up with a hernia was because Mel had taken pity on her finally, and lifted the heaviest of the weights onto the rack for her.
“I know, I know,” she said, though she didn’t particularly believe it.
She was better alone. Better counting on only herself. She couldn’t let herself down. Mel frowned, but let the matter go, going back to her original battle and leaving this one for later.
“So, the shoot. Nat Lee won’t recognize you. You need the work. You should do it.”
Kate took a deep breath.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” said Mel. “Okay.”
✽✽✽
Her head was fuzzy with alcohol and her body was dropping with tiredness by the time she finally unlocked the studio door and deposited the camera bags inside. She closed the door behind her, hearing the soft hum of traffic on the street below, seeing the way the streetlights painted bars of orange light across the ceiling.
A large table dominated the room, strewn with equipment and shots. Her computer stood against the wall, the walls themselves papered with yet more photographs. Stairs led up to a small mezzanine that housed a single mattress and piles of her clothes stacked up in a corner. Home.
She stripped off her clothes and went to the bathroom.
Nat Lee. There was no denying that this was an amazing opportunity. A shoot with Nat Lee would get her own name front and center, push her skills under the noses of those that really mattered. A shoot with Nat Lee could be the kickstart that her career really needed. She should do it, she knew that. But that quiver of fear, the memory of the pain those girls had caused her, stopped her from jumping at the chance.
Toothpaste on brush she looked into the mirror as she brushed her teeth. She would be unrecognizable. Almost certainly. Kate S. looked nothing like little Katie Steinhauser. And even if she did, why would Nat Lee connect the two? That time was a million years ago, a million miles away.
She spat foam into the sink and ran water to wash her face. She wanted the New York job. She was desperate to leave LA. It was soul-sucking, blank, heartless. She’d been honest about needing to work on her portfolio, she did and she would. But this. A shoot with Nat Lee. That had to put her in top running for the New York job. How could it not?
She climbed into bed, pulling a thin sheet over herself and watching the pattern of lights on the ceiling. A long hour passed.
Finally, she picked up her phone.
“I’ll do it,” she texted and quickly sent the message to Mel before she could change her mind.
Chapter Two
She was actually shaking. Which was ridiculous because the temperature was hitting ninety already thou
gh it was only ten in the morning. Kate yanked out bags of equipment before slamming the trunk of her van. Rust stained her fingers and she wiped her hands on her jeans. Deep breaths, she told herself, deep breaths.
The old warehouse towered over her. It was far enough from the city that she couldn’t hear traffic, only the clicking of insects. Weeds pushed up through cracks in the concrete.
“There’s no way she’s going to recognize you,” she whispered to herself.
But she slipped her sunglasses on just in case before marching to the warehouse door. There was no bell, no nothing, though the door was cracked open. She could feel cool air pushing out from inside. A note fluttered on the door handle. Fifth floor, service elevator. She groaned, then turned back to start dragging her equipment inside.
“The chance of a lifetime,” she huffed when she was pulling the last of the bags out of the elevator. “This is the chance of a lifetime.”
She clanged shut the metal elevator door and finally turned around. And she knew this was right.
Fresh white sunlight streamed in through dusty, broken windows. Cobwebs hung from beams high up in the air. The floor was creaking wood underfoot. Immediately her mind filled with images. The warehouse was perfect, absolutely perfect for the shoot. She could see Nat Lee’s wild untamed natural look juxtaposed against the industrial space in her mind’s eye and her mouth watered at the beauty of it, the perfection of it.
“Well hello there!”
She’d been paying so much attention to the space that she hadn’t noticed the man until he spoke. Now she took him in. Slim in an expensive suit, the sleeves rolled up, sunglasses poking from his breast pocket. Blonde hair sleeked back, a tan that was just a little too orange to be natural.
“Brooks Lyon,” he said, approaching her with an outstretched hand. “Nat Lee’s agent. I’m afraid she’s not here just yet, but I’m expecting her any time.”
“It’s fine,” Kate said, taking his hand and feeling it warm and clammy in hers. “I’m early. Oh, I’m Kate, the photographer.”
Fair of Face Page 1
