Etoile (The Mannequin Series)

by Olivia Besse

  Thinking back on that disastrous night at Tyler's made her even more confused. Truth be told, she barely recalled the majority of the evening, but the bits and pieces that she did remember made her cringe.

  Upon letting her into his house, the pleased smile on Tyler's sleepy face had morphed into a look of worry once he had the chance to see just how drunk she was. “Whoa. Are you okay?” he had asked as he steadied the heavily inebriated, and highly uncoordinated, beauty who was batting her eyelashes furiously at him.

  “Of course I am,” she slurred back as she dropped her poor, innocent Bottega Veneta clutch with a loud clatter and tried her best to shoot him a nonchalant smile. Inside, her heart was pounding and her body was reeling at the sight of how cute he looked with his rumpled bed hair. “I got myself here, did I not?” she asked proudly as she proceeded to trip over her heels, slamming her shoulder into the nearby wall.

  Tyler had then lunged forward to catch the lanky mess before she fell and broke her ankles. “Yea, and I'm not sure how,” he had muttered as he slowly led her to the nearby sofa. After sitting her down, he bent down to unbuckle her hazardous Miu Miu platforms. “How did you even get these on...”

  Elodie had tittered like a schoolgirl as she watched Tyler fumble with the thin ankle straps of her towering shoes. “Because I am a model. Models wear heels. You are also a model... do you wear heels? You can borrow them, but I need them back by midnight. What time is it? Are my shoes pretty? I am like Cinderella, non?”

  After tossing the shoes aside, he looked up at her and laughed. “Yes, very pretty. How much did you drink?”

  “Enough,” she had replied with what was meant to be a seductive smile as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Tyler looked at her in amusement as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, I think you had way more than enough. We should get you to sleep.”

  “Sleep? You are not going to play with me?” Elodie had asked with a tiny pout after he led her by the hand into the bedroom like a child and handed her a tee shirt. She stood still, confused as to what was happening. Was she being rejected again?

  “Not tonight, kid,” Tyler replied with a soft smile as he lightly touched her cheek. “I have to leave for Paris tomorrow morning. I'm shooting an editorial before we start all of that Ero shit. Need to be at the airport in a few hours.” He gestured to the packed suitcase at the foot of his bed before he climbed in.

  After Tyler pulled the blanket over himself, Elodie tossed aside his unflattering offering and wriggled out of her dress, revealing her flimsy lingerie. Much to her dismay, his eyes were already closed. With a huff, she lifted up the covers and climbed in as gracefully as she could. Which, in her drunken state, meant that she clambered in clumsily. After slinking up next to him and pushing her body against his, she whispered, “I thought this is what you wanted.”

  Tyler turned over to look her in the eyes and let out a small laugh. She peered at him with a challenging expression, but he merely cupped her chin in his hand and leaned in to give her a gentle kiss. Her entire body buzzed lightly at his touch, though she was unsure of if it was due to the alcohol coursing through her veins. Elodie tried to kiss him more deeply, but he pulled away slightly before adding, “You're wasted. And I need my beauty sleep.”

  After placing a soft kiss on her forehead, Tyler turned onto his back and slid his arm around the defeated girl. With the room spinning and her ears ringing, she glared at him in the dark until her eyes fluttered closed. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the crook of his arm before waking up to an empty bed, a glass of water and a taunting note the following morning.

  Cinderella,

  didn't want to wake you but I'll see you soon

  try not to miss me too much

  P.S. you snored

  - Prince Charming

  Replaying the events in her head was excruciating, and the thought of having to spend the next five days with Tyler made her want to ride the bus back to the airport and fly back to New York. Her cheeks burned with shame as she tried to erase the embarrassment that had transpired. Was she that unlikable to be rejected twice in one night?

  Speaking of which, she had no idea how she would face James, despite the fact that he had no idea about her late-night visit to Tyler's. Even though nothing had happened, she couldn't help but feel terrible. It also didn't help that James had sent her very sweet text messages in the past couple of days, despite his being swamped at work.

  Sorry for letting things get out of hand last night. I'll make it up to you!

  Wish I could see you tonight

  Heading home now. Hope you're sleeping well

  I'll be waiting in Arrivals when you land!

  Each message made her feel like shit, as he obviously felt bad about what had happened and wanted to make it up to her. Still, she tried her best to sound upbeat and positive when carefully crafting her responses. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she scolded herself for the hundredth time. As the bus shook violently as it neared its destination, Elodie shut her eyes tightly and banged her head lightly against the window.

  Once the bus slammed to a halt, everyone began to busily gather their belongings and the chaos broke her pensive trance. Elodie waited impatiently as the people around her pushed towards the door to escape the stuffy environment, as she had no energy to join them in the pointless race to disembark first. After finally grabbing her luggage, she trudged down the steps and onto the street, breathing in the fresh air and taking in the bustling scene around her.

  Catching a glimpse of the majestic InterContinental Le Grand Hotel brought a tiny smile to her face as she thought back on all of the fancy lunches that Janet, the agent from London who had scouted her as a teenager, had taken her to at Café de la Paix during her first few Paris Fashion Weeks. Elodie had even walked in two shows that had been set up in the grand ballroom there.

  Thinking back on her rookie years made her feel sad, for she felt like she had not accomplished nearly enough during her time in Manhattan. Though she had only been modelling for three years, it felt like eternity. An eternity during which she had accomplished barely anything. But at least she had the Ero campaign, she mused as she shook the depressing thoughts out of her head. Now was her chance to make a name for herself.

  “Pardon,” one of the rowdy boys from the bus called out after her as she pulled up the top handle of her luggage and began walking down rue Scribe and towards her agency's office. His friends snickered from a distance like a crowd of schoolboys. Elodie turned around to look at him as he walked towards her, all the while trying her best to hide her annoyance. “Oui?” she asked shortly. The boy gave her a smirk and asked, “Vous êtes mannequin? T'es trop adorable.”

  There was a reason as to why she hated Parisian boys. They were cocky, forward and dressed as if they might be gay, what with the scarves and excessive amounts of hair product. This one in particular was dressed as if he were channeling a Zara mannequin, with pants almost as tight as hers. Come to think of it, she owned a pair of black leather boots similar to the ones that he was wearing. His blonde hair had been shellacked to meticulous perfection, and she feared that it would shatter if something were to touch it.

  Elodie gave him a tight smile and lightly nodded before turning back ahead, quickening her pace so as to give him the hint that she didn't want to be bothered. She silently praised herself for having chosen a sensible pair of shoes for her long journey. “You are French, no?” he asked in a thick accent as he continued to walk alongside her, grinning from ear to ear.

  She did not bother to respond, choosing instead to imagine that he were mute and invisible, as she began to make her way down the crowded Avenue de l'Opéra. It took all of the energy that she could muster to keep a straight face and not scream vulgar obscenities in French at him right then and there. She was not in the mood for this.

  “American?” he continued with a lazy smile, seemingly encouraged by her cold demeanor. Elodie could hear his friends laughing and egging
him on as they trailed behind them. “I love American girls,” he went on in his poor English as he adjusted the strap of his leather carryall on his shoulder. “But I know you are no American. I hear you speak French to driver. But I will talk English if you like. Just for you.”

  Elodie could see that he wasn't going to leave her alone anytime soon. “It was very nice to meet you, but I am late,” she finally said, exaggerating her American accent in hopes that he might give up. No such luck.

  The boy continued to walk with her as they turned onto the narrow street on which her agency's office was located. “Do not be so shy,” he joked as he drew closer. “It is okay. You are just my style.”

  Just a little bit more, she comforted herself as she felt beads of sweat form on her forehead. Couldn't he get the hint and back off? They had been speed-walking for several blocks, and she was growing tired. The sound of the wheels on her suitcase clacking loudly against the narrow sidewalk echoed through the small alleyway as they passed a rack of Vélib' rental bikes and a small brasserie. She was only a few doors away from the safety of her agency.

  “Je t'offre un verre?” he tried again as he offered to buy her a drink, gesturing towards one of the bar's outdoor tables. To add insult to injury, he reached out and grabbed her wrist so that she couldn't scurry away this time. Elodie let out an exasperated sigh and opened her mouth to finally give him a piece of her mind when a familiar voice interrupted her.

  “Hey, fucker, let go of my girlfriend,” Tyler called out as he stepped out from the agency's doorway, where he had been smoking cigarettes with two giggly female models. Elodie couldn't help but feel a flicker of jealousy as she wondered who the girls were, and tried her best not to beam when she saw them mouth the word “girlfriend” to each other in disappointment.

  Tyler began to walk towards them with an arrogant smirk on his face, flicking his cigarette butt in the direction of the creep, barely missing the French boy by an inch. He looked and sounded the part of Ugly American with his white tee, jeans, Pierre Hardy sneakers and backpack. “I said let go,” he warned again as he got closer. The smile vanished from his face as he put his hand on the top of Elodie's head and stared down at the obnoxious French douchebag. “This. Mine. You. Fuck off.”

  The cheesy blonde, who now noticed that Tyler was a good four inches taller than he, shook his head in annoyance and finally let go of her thin wrist. “Fuck you,” he spit out in his thick accent before retreating to his friends who were waiting at the entrance of the alleyway. As they walked away, Elodie could hear him loudly cursing in French about how he could have beaten the American jerk up if only he wasn't so hungover.

  “Why are you cheating on me with that dick,” Tyler joked as he spun Elodie's head towards his face. “I didn't know you liked guys who wear women's pants. Lend me yours.”

  While trying her best to hide her smile, Elodie shook his hand off and tried her best to fix her disheveled hair. Her bag swung haphazardly in the air and bumped into her cheek, knocking her sunglasses down her nose. Tyler laughed and helped to comb her hair with his fingertips as she tucked her sunglasses into her bag. “There. Perfect.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered quietly as her cheeks burned. Did he not remember how mortifying that night had been for her? Oblivious to her frazzled state, he gave her a big smile and picked up her suitcase, walking straight into the agency without so much as glancing at his two former smoking buddies. Elodie could feel them watch her enviously as she scuttled after him. “Since when he has girlfriend?” she heard one of the girls say with a Dutch accent as the door closed behind them.

  “DELIVERY!” Tyler called out obnoxiously as he stomped into the agency and plopped the suitcase down onto an expensive-looking tufted velvet bench. A small pug sauntered over to him and he tucked the tiny dog under his arm as he led Elodie to one of the bookers at the end of the long row of computers. “She's here,” he announced in a bored tone to Jennifer, Elodie's agent for the French office.

  “Tyler, two hands!” another booker scolded from the other end as she carefully eyed the overly excited dog that was flailing around under his armpit. Tyler simply laughed before grabbing the dog in both of his hands and settling into a chair near the wall of comp cards, making faces at the pup as it slobbered enthusiastically.

  “Hi, Elodie,” Jennifer said in a tired voice without even bothering to look up from her typing. The two bookers flanking her station were both inhaling black coffee and speaking rapidly on their phones, making appointments for the models for whom they were responsible. “We have you guys scheduled to do a fitting at the design studio all day tomorrow, so try to be there at 8 AM sharp. As you know, it is on rue François 1er. We can arrange for a driver to take you there. Go speak with the accountant later to settle your charges. Try not to look bloated and don't stay out late tonight.” With that, Jennifer finally looked up to give Elodie a look of warning, to which she nodded meekly.

  “I have you set up in the model flat off of Rue Rambuteau in the 4th arrondissement until tomorrow night,” she continued briskly as she began to type again fervently. “There are four girls in there right now, but you make five and four more are arriving tomorrow. Now the Ero people want to shoot in Provence, so you will fly out on Sunday evening via jet to Marseilles. You will all be staying at Olivier's friend's villa and will shoot all day Monday and Tuesday. You will fly back on jet to CDG and we will arrange the return flight for you to leave from there. Good?”

  The barrage of details made Elodie's head spin as she tried to gather her thoughts. She had never even been to the South of France! Trying to play it cool, she hid her excitement and gave a small nod.

  Jennifer gave her a tight smile back. “Good. I'll print out your call sheet for tomorrow and your itinerary. Make sure to check in with the accountant, okay?”

  Elodie ignored the last part and didn't bother, as she wasn't in the mood to crunch numbers with the surly woman wielding a calculator. It wasn't like meeting with her would make any difference in her debts, she thought as she made her way towards her suitcase in the hallway. Hearing about them would merely add a somber mood to her trip. She would just have to ask for her final balances when she got back to New York.

  After collecting the warm stack of papers from Jennifer and air-kissing her goodbye, Elodie began to plot her escape. Despite her best efforts to make it quietly past Tyler unnoticed, she heard the echoing footsteps of his sneakers behind her as she picked up her luggage from the bench.

  “Where'd they stick you?” he asked in a taunting tone as he set his four-legged playmate on the floor. The wrinkled dog scurried across the black and white marble tiles and back into the workroom. Lucky you, Elodie thought as she watched the curled end of its tail disappear through the large doorway.

  Clearing her throat, she fidgeted with the handle of her roller and avoided his eyes. “4th arrondissement. Near Hôtel de Ville. So, I should get going. See you tomorrow!”

  She heard him laugh and felt her body stiffen as he put his arm around her shoulders and grabbed the handle of her luggage with his other hand. The all-too-familiar scent of his Yves Saint Laurent L'Homme cologne made her stomach lurch as she avoided his stare. “Why are you acting all weird?” he asked in a bemused tone. “Do you have a crush on me? I mean, I'm flattered, but...”

  “The other day was wrong. I am sorry about that,” Elodie cut him off as he guided her down the stairs, his arm still around her shoulder. Though her mouth was protesting, she couldn't bring herself to shrug him off as she continued to breathe in his scent.

  “You're right,” he agreed once they were outside on the sidewalk. Lighting a cigarette, he looked at her with a mischievous expression as he passed her one. “We should finish what we started.”

  Elodie gulped. “That is not what I meant...”

  “I mean, they probably put you in a shitty apartment with like five other girls, right?” Tyler asked as he held his lighter up for her. Try eight, Elodie thought bitterly as she took a
deep drag. “And they're going to charge you like, what, 15 euro each time some asshole driver picks you up to drive you when they're the ones who put you so far away? That apartment's all the way across town.”

  Even thinking about her constantly mounting debts made her head hurt. This Ero campaign could be her ticket to It Model status and financial freedom. While she was appreciative to Tyler for helping her secure the job, she didn't want to risk her budding relationship with James by succumbing to his, albeit irresistible, charm.

  “So just stay with me,” he continued as he began to stretch his toned arms for the viewing pleasure of the middle-aged women sitting on the patio of the nearby brasserie. Elodie fought the urge to roll her eyes as she heard the three ladies titter loudly over their glasses of Sancerre, their eyes fixated on the handsome young man modelling in the middle of the street. “I'm staying at Soren's apartment in the 8th arrondissement. Have the whole place to myself. We can walk to the Ero studio, you know. No cramped, overpriced apartment and no perverted driver.”