Take Hold of Me

by Arell Rivers

  Arriving at the elliptical, I answer the woman’s questions. When she’s set up and doing a good job, I leave her be.

  I make my way to the weights and start warming up. David highly recommended that I work out with my clients to let them feel like we’re all in it together, like he used to do. I’ve adopted his suggestion, mainly because it allows me to be seen among the clients without having to actually interact with them.

  I start by doing deadlifts. Zak wasn’t wrong about my getting more jacked. Twice daily workouts are a by-product of being an antisocial gym owner.

  When I finish the final reps, I grab a towel with the Complete logo emblazoned on it and head for the locker room. After a quick shower, I relax my muscles in the sauna. Another refuge away from prying eyes. Nearing the end of my ten minutes, Leo, a regular, opens the door. The guy’s nearing fifty but works out like a fiend, making him look at least ten years younger.

  “Hi there, Wills.”

  I nod. “Leo.”

  “Just finished doing my circuit. Place is hopping for nine o’clock.”

  Forcing myself to respond, I say, “Yeah, pretty busy today.”

  “Have you heard from David? How’s he doing over in Charleston?”

  “Spoke with him last week.” Or so. “He’s good. He likes his house and says he’s enjoying the different climate.” When Leo looks hungry for more info, I add, “And the food. Says he’s put on ten pounds due to the great restaurants.”

  Leo laughs. “Addie would’ve had something to say about that. She was strict about sticking to a good health regimen.”

  A smile tugs at my lips imagining how Three would’ve reacted to David’s description of Charleston’s culinary options. “Yeah, she could get on your case.”

  “So, how are you liking it here? I see you working out all the time.”

  “That’s because you’re right there with me.” Okay. Nearing the end of my tolerance.

  “True enough. Hey, when we’re done here, want to tackle the rock wall with me?” He always ends his days with a quick scramble up the wall.

  “Nah. You go ahead and enjoy, though. I have to finish up some paperwork.” I stand, secure my towel around my waist and head for the door.

  “Another time.”

  Never. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow, right Leo?”

  He gives me the thumbs- up and I leave him in the sauna. The members all try so hard to include me. Makes me almost wish I were the type of guy to reciprocate. I’m not.

  Dressed again in the Complete uniform of a logoed t-shirt and shorts, I end up at the smoothie bar making small talk with the two newbies who, apparently, signed up following Zak’s pitch. I’m mid-swallow of my protein shake when one of them says, “Oh, I have to try that lip gloss.” She sighs. “If only I would look like her when I wear it.”

  Do. Not. Look.

  I close my eyes. Her French-accented voice drifts into my ears, coils down my body and wraps around my heart.

  My eyes open and focus on the flat-screen just as Emilie says, “UC Cosmetics means Ultra Chic.”

  My protein drink falls to the counter. “Shit!”

  A Complete crew member rushes over to me with a towel and cleans up my mess. I offer a half-hearted “sorry,” and walk away. I’m good at walking away.

  My legs carry me into one of the unoccupied classrooms. I close the door behind me and sit. This room doesn’t see much use, but I think it would be a great seminar room. Guest lecturers on all areas of health and wellness. I’ve been kicking this idea around for a bit, and I think the members would like it. Maybe I should put Zak on developing it.

  My eyes scan the blue walls and land on the photo of the pier at sunset that I purchased in the Caymans. When Emilie missed Rose’s bridal shower. I couldn’t bear to hang it in my apartment, so I put it here. It reminds me of everything I can’t have. Don’t deserve. The fact that she’s missing from the photo underscores that fact.

  I stare at the image, letting my mind go blank. Concentrating on my breathing, I slip away from myself.

  The ringing of my cell phone moments later brings me right back to harsh reality. Pulling it out of my pocket, Mom’s name greets me. Hell no. I’m not in the mood to deal with whatever sob story she’s peddling now. I reject the call. My brief respite has been broken.

  Abandoning the classroom, I walk toward my office when the receptionist rushes over to me, cordless phone in hand.

  “Wills, it’s your mother.” She thrusts the phone toward me. “She says it’s urgent. She’s at the hospital.”

  28

  Emilie

  Maman leads me into another boutique filled with all sorts of fun jewelry, her specialty. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings and rings are separated into various counters.

  “I found this place a month ago,” she says while examining a bracelet. “Their inventory is very unusual, and it changes all the time.” She holds up a gold bracelet with a dragonfly clasp. “See? Isn’t this beautiful?”

  The dragonfly’s wings are a shade of amethyst, which really makes the whole piece pop. Maman has been offering her friends style advice ever since I can remember. No wonder where I get it from.

  “Oui. I do not think I have ever seen one like it before.”

  Her face lights up in a smile as she tells the clerk to put it at the register for her. We move onto the earring counter. My eyes roam over the display, then zero in on one set. A drop earring with a silver starfish surrounded by turquoise beads—the color of his eyes. I stifle my gasp behind my hand.

  “What?”

  I shake my head, but I am too late. Maman taps on the glass above the earrings that caught my eye, signaling for the clerk to let us examine them. Shaking my head, I step back.

  “Emsy, what is it? You haven’t been yourself all weekend.”

  I cannot give in to tears in public. My eyes linger over the gorgeous pair of starfish that reminds me so much of my last trip to the Caymans. When Wills did everything he could to make me feel better about having missed out on Rose’s bridal shower.

  I swallow the sawdust in my mouth and dart a look at my mother. Her eyes are slits, as if she is seeing right through me. And she probably is. She knows me better than anyone else on earth.

  Maman addresses the clerk. “We’ll take those earrings as well.”

  Leaving me to stew, she heads to the register to pay. She is not going to let me get away without explaining myself to her. So far, I have avoided discussing Wills and what happened in LA, but I cannot hold out much longer.

  Carrying a small bag with the boutique’s logo on it, she returns to my side and takes my arm. “We’re going home now. Where we can talk freely.”

  Nothing else is said on our trip back home. She let me drive, now that I have my license in America, but even that thrill does not excite me.

  When I put the car in park in the designated spot, Maman says, “You did a wonderful job driving, Emsy. Papa and I are so proud of you.”

  With those words, the floodgates open. I put my head in my hands and cry. Cry for what I lost and who I cannot be with again.

  “Finally.” She pats my shoulder. “Let’s go inside and you can let it all out. Okay?”

  Catching my breath on a sob, I nod and follow her. The comforting furniture of the salon draws me in as if I were a child again. Despite the beautiful Parisian October day, my hands are ice cold. Squeezing them together, I begin, “Maman, so much is wrong.”

  “Talk to me.”

  Where do I begin? “Both my professional and personal lives are a mess.”

  She hands me a tissue. “Let’s start with your career. You won another contract, right?”

  Dabbing my eyes, I suck in my breath and let the words tumble out. “Oui. I met Geonna in London when we walked together for a house, and she reminded me of myself a decade ago. She was so excited to try for new things.”

  “And you’re not that way anymore?”

  I shake my head. “Sometimes. Like for the movie
part, I was looking forward to trying my hand at acting. I knew my lines,”—images of running them with Wills, in bed, pop into my head but I close off my mind to them. “But when I got to the set, they sprang the change pages on me. And Rinaldo.”

  Maman’s eyes light up at the mention of my ex, but something in my face must have stopped her from gushing over him. She waits for me to continue.

  “The movie people all told me I was a natural, yet I do not feel the need to do another movie. Photo shoots, even Fashion Week, does not spark my interest as much anymore. A little.” I hold up my thumb and index finger, twisting at my wrist. “Do not get me wrong, I like getting together with my friends who I do not see that often. Val was in London, as a matter of fact.”

  “She’s a nice girl.”

  “Oui. I got to be with her for a few days and then she was off to Munich. I had more houses to walk for, and that was when Lizzie came. Not to be on the catwalk. She was in the audience. I got to spend time with her that evening, which was très bon. We talked about the future.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She told me all about her furniture line and how that is faring. She is doing really well, Maman. Her design company was recognized by Forbes.”

  “Do you want to design furniture, too?”

  “No.” I need to voice my inner passion. Rubbing my still cold hands on my thighs, I respond, “I want to be a stylist.”

  Maman’s eyebrows go up. “Well, that certainly does make sense. You’ve always loved fashion. You’ve learned so much working in the industry for so long.”

  The fact that she did not laugh at me gives me hope. Hope for what, I am unsure. “You do not think I am being silly?” His final words referencing fashion as being shallow still sting.

  Now she frowns. “Why on earth would I think that? You have a great eye and I’m sure you’ll be able to help many people.”

  I rush to embrace her. “Thank you.” Sitting back, I retrieve my cell phone and open up my Instagram account, explaining about how it started and what I do on it.

  “You really are great at this, Emsy. I never would have thought to make the suggestions you did. And your followers, they seem very happy with your advice.”

  I take a moment to bask in her praise. “They are. I even got to help a person on the movie set as she was getting ready for a date. I felt ten feet tall.”

  She places her index finger to her bottom lip. “What are you thinking about doing with this?”

  “I am unsure, Maman. Besides, it is not as if Monsieur Price would allow—” My words stop.

  “What do you mean, Emsy? You employ the Agency, not the other way around.”

  Goosebumps break out across my arms. My breathing hitches. I have not spoken about that day in his office to anyone. Not even…Anyone.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Maman places her hand on my tense forearm, her eyes shifting between my arm and my face.

  I need to come clean to her. I scheduled an appointment with my attorney in LA to discuss Monsieur Price and Wade. If am going to take them on, I need to find the words. Starting now.

  “The Agency has been sending me out nightly to different events, you know. They have me go out with a bodyguard to raise my profile.”

  My fingers fold and refold the tissue as I keep talking. “Since Stacy went out on maternity, I have had a few meetings with Monsieur Price. Alone. In his office.”

  The tissue shreds in my hands but I keep pulling at it. “He. Uhm, he,” I look past my mother into the dining room. Out the window overlooking the garden.

  “What did he do, Emilie?”

  Eyes fixed outside, I start, “He—” I fist the tissue shreds in my hand. “He touched me and threatened me with Wade’s photos from all those years ago. He said Wade is protected because he is a highly respected photographer in the industry.”

  My eyes drop to my hand, which I open to reveal the mass of shreds. Without looking up, I mumble, “I am so ashamed. I do not know how I could have let this happen. I never met with him by myself ever before.” I continue rambling until Maman’s arms wrap around me.

  “Shhh, Emsy. You have nothing to be embarrassed about at all.” She rocks me in her arms as we both give in to tears.

  “So, you see I have to continue to go out on the dates the Agency schedules. If I do not, he will release the photographs and no one will believe me about Wade.”

  “No. This won’t happen. And you know why? Because what Price did to you is much worse. So what if photos of you from ten years ago are released? You are proud of your body and now, at your age, you can handle the improper attention they would get. But he—” she spits out the pronoun, refusing to say Price’s name. “He must be exposed for what he did. And that Wade, too.”

  I pull back from her, considering her words. Warmth spreads through my extremities. “You are right. I do not care about those photos. Whatever. Topless, or in a bikini or lingerie, there is not much difference.”

  She agrees.

  “But if Monsieur Price did that to me, I bet he has done it to other models, too. Younger ones. And that is not a way to behave. Not to mention what Wade did.”

  “He still hasn’t paid for what he did to you at the after-party.” Her head bobs. “You need to talk with someone in authority about this.”

  “I already called the attorney who negotiated my contract renewal. We have a meeting set up.”

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Merci. All I ever wanted to do was make you and Papa proud of me.”

  “You always make us proud, Emsy,” Papa says as he enters the house. “I just love having you back under our roof. Even for such a short visit.” He kisses my cheek.

  He and Maman exchange a look and she says, “I’ll fill you in later, Henri. But just know our little girl is stronger than we even knew.”

  Papa takes a seat in the chair opposite us and Maman fills him in about my plans to reduce my modeling obligations and grow a styling business.

  “That sounds very exciting, Emsy. A new chapter for you.”

  Looking at my father, I admit, “I did not want to disappoint you both by slowing down my modeling career. I know how much pride that gives you. However, I get so much more pleasure from helping others with their clothes, makeup and hair. I have made my decision and I hope you are happy with it.”

  The two look at each other, and I rush on. “I even have been helping Rose with her wedding. I picked up a wedding dress designed for her from this wonderful Spanish designer when I was there. And I have been offering McKenna tips about her maid of honor dress, not that she really needs them. Plus, I have been giving advice to Cole and his brother about their attire, too.”

  By the end of my disclosure, I am smiling from ear-to-ear. My parents are holding hands. “Maman and I only ever wanted for you to be happy. We never cared that you were a model, so long as you were happy in your profession.”

  Maman agrees. “If you’re happy, we’re happy for you. It’s what’s inside that we care about, not what your career path is.”

  All this time, I put pressure on myself to meet my parents’ expectations, when they did not have any for me other than to find happiness?

  “It took me a long time to realize that having an aptitude for something and choosing it as a profession are two different things. I have a true passion to be a stylist. Modeling has opened many doors for me, this is true. Now I want to use those doors to help others become their best.”

  “We’re so proud of you, the woman in here.” Maman presses her hand over my heart. It is as though I can feel it smile.

  While Maman makes dinner, I sit in my childhood bedroom and stare at my cell phone. During our talk today, Stacy’s name came up. She worked directly for Price for years. Before I can think better of it, I hit “send” on her contact.

  “Hi, Emilie! What a surprise.”

  The sound of a baby cooing in the background reaches my ears. “Bonjour, Stacy. How are you doing? How
is the baby?”

  “Little Katie is wonderful, although she doesn’t let me get much sleep. You called at a great time, though, as I just fed her. Hopefully, she’ll be out for a while. By the way, thank you so much for the baby blanket and toys you sent—they’re adorable.”

  “You are very welcome.” We discuss new motherhood and then I bring the conversation around to the Agency. “Stacy, I wanted to give you a heads boost—I mean a heads-up—because you have been so wonderful to me over the years. I truly appreciate all of your advice and guidance over my career.”

  “Uh oh, sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming. Let me put the baby in her crib.” A minute later, she says, “Okay, I’m back. What’s up?”

  Am I imagining things or is her tone more concerned than curious? I take a deep breath and relate what happened to me in Monsieur Price’s office. And what Wade did to me all those years ago, as well as a few months ago. “I hope you understand, but I cannot remain silent any longer.”

  “Oh, Emilie. I am so sorry you had to go through all this. I tried my best to shield you over the years.”

  My heart stutters. “So you knew about Price?”

  “No. Not how you just described him to be. But I did know how cutthroat the industry is, and that it certainly protects its own. Although I can’t say I’m surprised by anything you just told me.”

  My breath hitches. “I appreciate everything you did for me. I do not have any intention of leaving modeling completely, but I need to stick up for the younger ones out there.” My mind flits back to London. “Like Geonna.”

  “That’s very brave of you, to risk it all for the benefit of others. Now that I have Katie, I’ve come to see the price for fame in the industry is way too high. You have a great head on your shoulders—not just a beautiful one—and I think you’ll be a success, no matter what you decide to do next. Though I hope you’ll still be with us for a long time to come.”