Shaun planted a smile on her face, expecting one of the beautiful young models Celia represented to come waltzing through the door with the gazelle like grace they all seemed to have. She was surprised instead to find a tall white boy in a t-shirt and jeans. He had a full sleeve of tattoos racing up each arm. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes but did nothing to hide how breathtakingly attractive he was. His olive skin was smooth like butter, perfectly offsetting a strong jaw and a thick head of hair styled into a smooth, jet black quiff. He strolled in like he owned the place. When he gazed in Shaun’s direction he stopped short, staring at her openly. He was followed closely by a red haired woman who looked on the verge of a psychotic break.
Celia closed the door behind them and motioned to Shaun, speaking hurriedly, “Shaun, this is Adam and Janelle. Adam, Janelle… this is Shaun Green.”
Adam continued to watch Shaun intensely, his plush pink lips parting ever so slightly as he removed the Ray Bans from his face. The tiniest smile teased his lips, but it was gone in an instant.
Shaun’s eyes nearly exploded from her skull when she realized she was face to face with none other than Adam Brand, one of the biggest rock stars in the country. Not only did she recognize him immediately, but she was almost positive that she’d been screaming the lyrics to his latest song during the long, teary drive to Celia’s office.
Adam sized her up from head to toe and he didn’t make it a secret. When his eyes landed back on hers, he shrugged. “I like your hair. It’s…” He struggled for the right word. “Big.”
Shaun hesitated. “Thanks?” she accepted his “compliment” with a confused question mark.
“How tall are you?” Janelle, the red-head, asked with a hand on her slim hip.
Shaun blinked. “Uh… 5’7”?” she answered with a question again, before looking at Celia curiously. Was there a reason these people were giving her the third degree?
Janelle looked confused. “Back in my younger days this agency wouldn’t look twice at any girl a quarter of an inch under 5’10”. I was five foot nine and a half but NOPE, that half an inch was just unacceptable to them.”
Adam rolled his eyes and looked off.
Shaun remained confused, her silence conveying how desperate she was for an explanation.
Janelle gave Shaun a once over then smacked her gum. “Having said that you are just what we’re looking for. Chocolaty skin, big eyes, big hair… I just love black women who rock their giant afros. There is no bigger ‘fuck you’ in this twisted country than a glorious poof if you ask me.” Janelle laughed and tilted her head, considering Shaun closely. “You also have this strange innocence about you, you’ll look good next to Adam.”
Adam rolled his eyes again and this time Shaun saw him do it, prompting her to look back at Celia once more, but her friend was so deep in thought she didn’t notice the inquisitive stare. Shaun turned back to Adam and Janelle at a loss. Was somebody going to explain to her what the hell was going on here?
Janelle yammered on, motioning to Shaun. “I do have to warn you… Adam is followed by the paparazzi twenty four hours a day. They are everywhere at all times and they can be extremely disrespectful and invasive. That’s why I wanted to hire a model, because you’re used to the blinding flashes of light, the lenses in your face, that kind of thing. It won’t panic you the way it would panic a normal woman. You’re a professional.”
“Oh god…” Shaun waved her hand wildly back and forth. “There must be some mistake. I’m not a mod—“
“Modest woman!” Celia jumped in. “Shaun’s never met a camera she didn’t like, paparazzi or not. Will you excuse us for a moment?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she grabbed Shaun’s arm and pulled her toward the door. Adam and Janelle looked on as Celia all but dragged Shaun out of the room, slamming the door closed behind them.
In the hallway Shaun snatched her arm from Celia’s grip, laughing. “What in the world was that?”
Celia pointed to the closed door of her office, whispering strongly, “Adam Brand, that’s what. He is your story. His publicist is here looking for a model to put on his arm for a few months and they think that you’re one of my models. I won’t say anything if you won’t Shaun. This will give you the kind of access to that man that no one has ever gotten. You could write your ticket on this.”
It took Shaun a few moments to realize what her friend was saying and, after accepting that Celia was actually serious, she laughed out loud.
A young black model with a poof similar to Shaun’s came strutting down the hall. To Shaun, she looked about ten years old. “Hi Celia!” The young girl waved with a bright smile. “I’m here for our meeting--”
“I don’t need you anymore,” Celia barked, waving the model away without even looking at her. The young girl, who did appear to be exactly 5’10 and also quite hungry, raced off without another word.
“Celia what in god’s name are you even talking about?” Shaun asked as she shook her head in pure perplexity while looking down at her skinny jeans and chucks. “I’m not a model, and I’m not doing this.”
“Not doing what?”
“Whatever insane plan you have brewing in that head of yours.”
“I don’t have an insane plan. I have a brilliant plan.”
“Yeah, the last brilliant plan you had left me with half an eyebrow for all of middle school. Look, I have to go.” She began to walk off, but Celia chased after her, blocking her path.
“Think about the article you could have on your hands, Shaun. It’ll have intrigue, it’ll have celebrity and it’ll be interesting to your black and white readers. Especially after all the shit he said in that interview.”
Shaun raised her eyebrows. “What interview?”
Celia found it best not to answer that question. “Now what would you name it?” She massaged her chin, thinking about a clever title for the story.
“Name what? There’s nothing to name. I’m not doing this.”
“Forty-five percent!” Celia suddenly cried out, dramatically. “That is the percentage of college graduates who actually find a job within six months of getting their degree. I’ve got to be honest with you, friend, that journalism major you chose?” Celia pointed her thumb finger down at the floor and blew a raspberry. “A dying degree. A dying industry. I know that you think you’re a special little sunflower who’s going to be the exception to the rule, but there are thousands of other UCLA graduates who are thinking the exact same thing. They will rip your heart out if you get in their way. So… as a woman who has been on both sides of this industry for over 10 years I’m going to have to urge you to listen to me.” Celia pointed back at the door. “If you want to keep that job then. He. Is. Your. Story.”
Shaun was suddenly biting her lip, looking towards the closed door with a roll of her eyes. “The article was supposed to be about some imaginary shmuck and the ‘101 Ways to Please Him’ or something… not Adam freakin’ Brand. God only knows what kind of insane lawsuit he’ll hit me with if I do decide to write an article about him.”
“That’s the thing, Shaun. Adam is here to find a black woman to be seen around town with him for a couple of months to fix his shattered image after that ridiculous interview. So even if you did use him for your own gain he wouldn’t have a legal leg to stand on because he’d be using you too!”
“What is this interview you keep referring to? What shattered image?”
Celia wasn’t listening, too busy being overcome with inspiration. “ ‘How to Land a Rock Star in Thirty Days’…” she said, with a far-off look in her eyes.
Shaun couldn’t believe her ears.
“That’s your title. Oh my god. It’s so good I kind of want to write it myself.” Celia’s eyes were wide and animated and she gazed off into the distance.
“No,” Shaun said with finality. “You’re insane. My editor will never go for this. Do you hear me? Never.”
--
“I LOVE IT!” Jackson Hayes, Editor-in-Chief at Cosmop
olitan Magazine, beamed from across his desk. The bright smile on his face was almost blinding.
Shaun looked on blankly. “You can’t be serious,” she said dryly.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jackson jumped out of his giant leather chair and began walking to the window of his office. His beer belly pushed against the blinds as he looked out at all of his subordinates milling around their cubicles. “The magazine is in trouble and we’ve been deluding ourselves thinking that we don’t need to get our hands dirty for too long now. There’s no room for ethics in this business anymore doll. It’s kill or be killed. Get them before they get you. Adam Brand is the biggest thing out right now and this story is just what we need to resuscitate our rapidly floundering magazine. It’s got everything… celebrity, intrigue—it should have a to-do list.” Jackson put his forehead in his hand and then snapped his head back up, spreading his hands across the air dramatically. “ ‘How to Nab a Rock Star in Thirty Days’.”
Shaun didn’t recall telling him that title, and gave him the side eye the second he said it. “Did Celia call you?”
Jackson looked at her as if he’d forgotten she’d been in the room altogether. “Who’s Celia?”
Shaun looked away from him, muttering, “nobody.”
Jackson waited for Shaun to look back at him and neither of them said a word when she did. They both remained silent before Jackson shook his head. “Well what the fuck are you waiting for?”
Shaun jolted. “Oh. Okay.” Having sensed her cue to leave she began frantically gathering all of her things until they were in an unorganized, dangerous heap in her thin arms. She hurried towards the door and turned back to him just before she left. “If this article goes well maybe you and I can discuss a possible position—“
“I want the first outline by tomorrow morning,” Jackson said, before slamming the door in her face.
--
“I cannot believe this,” Shaun mumbled later that night in Celia’s master bedroom. Celia lived in a one story home in Santa Monica with a mortgage that still made Shaun cringe whenever she thought about it, but she found herself visiting almost daily.
Gazing at her reflection in the mirrored vanity before her, Shaun barely recognized herself. Celia was kneeling over Shaun with her back to the vanity, which was scattered with make-up and hair supplies. In a little under an hour Celia had taken her tomboy best friend and made her almost ladylike.
“I don’t even recognize myself,” Shaun mumbled, flinching when Celia scraped a wad of cotton across her face.
“I want you to wear a dress tonight,” Celia said, brushing on a shade of lipstick that had Shaun more than a little worried.
“Celia, no. The last time I wore a dress was when my mother forced me to sophomore year. You remember that teal monstrosity from picture day when I weighed two hundred and thirty pounds? All the boys called me Green Giant for the rest of the year.”
“The rest of the year? Girl those boys still call you Green Giant to this very day.”
“Fantastic.” Shaun hated to admit it, but that hurt. She’d worked her tail off for nearly a year losing the extra hundred or-so pounds that she’d carried around for most of high school. The weight still haunted her. Sometimes she felt like Celia couldn’t wait to remind her.
“Regardless,” Celia chimed in. “That weight is gone and the body image negativity that came with it is long over-do for a serious exorcism. Shaunie you are smoking hot. One of the biggest rock stars on the planet mistook you for a model and he’s not wrong. You do look like a model and it’s about time you showed it off.”
“But a dress? Can’t we just start with a pair of short heels or something?”
“Short? Heel?” Celia paused. “Does not compute.”
Shaun rolled her eyes, giggling when the action caused Celia to accidently get her cheek with the eyeliner she’d been meticulously applying.
“I told you to be still,” Celia chastised. “Wasting all my good make-up.... Keep smiling, next time I’m gonna get you right in the eye.”
Shaun rolled her eyes to the top of her head and did her best to keep still. “It’s easy for you to put me in a dress and heels and act like it’s nothing, you’ve been beautiful your whole life. You don’t understand what it’s like for someone like me to dress up.”
Shaun thought back to all the dances she’d never gone to, all the dates she never been asked on and all the playful flirting that had never been directed at her. Celia had always been the pretty one out of the pair. To that very day people still stopped Celia on the street because they’d mistaken her for Tyra Banks. Shaun had always been stuck in the wings, too shy to do anything more with her life than worship her friend from afar. It was something that had become a habit of hers and it was one she was comfortable with. Celia did all of the shining and Shaun kept to herself in the background, typing quietly on her laptop or drowning herself in a book.
Celia’s voice snapped Shaun out of her thoughts. “Do you want to be single for the rest of your life? Serious question.”
“Of course not.”
“Then consider this whole thing as dating practice. The Chuck Taylors and combat boots have got to go. I’m only telling you this as your very best friend but if I didn’t know you and saw you walking down the street in what you’re wearing right now, I would be thinking about which of my lesbian friends I could hook you up with okay? I’m not going to let you go out there with Adam Brand looking more butch than he does, especially since you’re going to be writing that article. Men like him don’t fall for girls like you and if you give him even the slightest inkling that you are as inexperienced as you are, he will smell it like the dog that he is.” Celia laughed. “You can’t be the twenty-four year old who’s never had sex—“
“I am a twenty-four year old who’s never had sex.”
Celia almost slapped her. “No.”
Shaun sighed deeply, staring down at her skinny jeans, white converses and faded t-shirt. She hated to admit it, but Celia was right. If she had any chance of writing this article and securing her dream job she had to appeal to the common man. And the common man responded to make up, dresses, and sky high heels. With a heavy heart, she settled back in the vanity chair in surrender, leaving her body and her face to Celia’s mercy.
An hour later they were finally done with hair and make-up. Celia had decided to keep Shaun’s hair curly, which she appreciated. Getting her afro into anything that resembled a straight style could take hours, and Shaun didn’t have the time or patience for that. The eye shadow and eyeliner were subtle, but somehow made her dark eyes seem ten times bigger than they actually were. Her nose looked more defined as well, but in a good way. Shaun loved her lips the most and made a mental note to ask Celia what color and brand it was. Turning her head to the side, Shaun almost smiled.
Celia observed her with a quiet smirk. “Do you like it?”
“I do,” Shaun said, dreamily, before snapping back to reality. “Too bad this much work is going towards something so deceitful.”
“It’s not deceitful if both parties know exactly what’s going on.”
“Adam doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. Does he know that I’m not a model? Does he know that I write for Cosmo? Does he know that at the end of this he’s going to be featured in a three page spread about how to land a rock star--written by yours truly? No. He doesn’t know any of that… and that makes this deceitful.”
“This virtuous game you’ve been playing was cute when we were twelve, but we’re all grown up now. Things are different these days okay? People aren’t playing fair out there. The nice girl doesn’t prosper anymore. She falls and not only does she fall, she falls hard and then gets trampled by all the “deceitful” women who were smart enough to play a good hand when they’ve got it.”
Shaun’s eyes searched her friend’s face. “I don’t believe that,” she whispered.
“I could have easily told Janelle and Adam that you weren’t a model in my agency, bu
t a writer for Cosmopolitan Magazine, and watched how fast they ran out of my office screaming. That’s what all celebrities do when they realize a writer is in the room. But I didn’t do that, because I’ve always had to be the bitch for both of us. Thank god I was there or you wouldn’t even have this opportunity.”
Shaun continued to gaze at her reflection. “But I’m not a liar, Celia. It goes against everything that I’m about as a writer and as a human being.”
“Fuck all that,” Celia cried.
“Even if I did manage to pull this off, which is highly unlikely, do you really think one of the biggest celebrities in the world isn’t going to have me sign a confidentiality agreement? His law team is probably typing it up right as we speak.”
“I’m going to handle all of that Shaun. Trust me. Adam Brand is a big boy and I’m sure that, at the end of the day, some magazine article written about him is the very least of his problems.” Celia was now aware that Shaun still hadn’t heard about Adam’s racist rant and decided to keep her mouth shut. She knew that Shaun was already stretching herself way beyond her moral breaking point. If she had any idea the things that Adam had said in that interview there was no way in hell she’d ever give him a second of her time. When Shaun’s silence persisted, Celia felt victorious. “I’m not going to steer you wrong Shaun. By the end of this you are going to have the magazine article of your career and you’ll be able to write your ticket. Just do everything I say and I promise you he’ll be putty in your hands.”
--
Shaun tripped over the ridiculous heels she was wearing for the third time that night. She’d only been out of the car for thirty seconds. In the middle of the busy Hollywood street she turned to Celia--who was parked along the sidewalk--and was met with the sight of her friend shaking her head in dismay. Shaun was somewhat offended. She’d never walked in a pair of heels in her life. Celia had decided to start her off in a pair of 4-inch, fuck-me-red pumps that hurt so bad Shaun could barely breathe… let alone walk in a straight, sexy line.
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