"Can I help you?" a lady's voice said. I was already feeling embarrassed and on edge, so I jumped.
"Oh, I'm just looking for something like this, I think, but it seems really small for a double X."
The woman grabbed the garment I'd been holding and gave it a good stretch demonstrating its flexibility. "They're meant to fit tightly."
"Yeah, it's just that usually, I'm an extra large, and I'm not even sure I could squeeze into this one." I gestured to the double X she was holding.
"It's fine to go a size up if you're not sure, but I think this one will do fine for you." She shook it so I would take it from her. "Is this the color you need?" It was black, and I figured I could just wear black clothes over it.
"I think it'll do," I said.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"I don't think so," I said. I tucked the piece of spandex, which was so thick it reminded me of a deflated inner tube, under my arm and went to the checkout. It cost almost fifty dollars, but I knew it'd be worth it if it worked. I tried it on as soon as I got home. It fit tightly, and was awkward and somewhat difficult to get on. It had an opening at the crotch, and I laughed at the thought of myself peeing without taking it off.
I put my workout clothes back on and stood in front of the full-length mirror on my shower door. I had to admit… the contraption helped slightly. It didn't make me thinner, necessarily, but the unwanted curves and pockets were smoothed out somewhat. I did a few jumping jacks in front of the mirror, and smiled when I didn't look like a big, wiggly hunk of Jell-O. I cocked my head to the side and concentrated as I shook my body, trying to test the effects even further. I felt a huge wave of relief thinking I might just be able to set foot in the gym after all. I continued my testing for the next minute or so, doing different movements including squats and running in place. I stood in the mirror, thinking that while I didn't look any smaller, I certainly looked better than I did before I put on the contraption.
***
By the time I'd been going to strength and conditioning class for a couple of months, I finally started seeing some results. I had a lot going on with work and starting back to school, but I made the effort to go to the gym at least three times a week, and had lost twenty pounds already. I was down to 170, and was feeling stronger than I'd ever felt in my life.
It was very rewarding to work out a muscle group, and then feel a noticeable difference in the way your body functioned because of it. Mark ended up being my trainer, and he was always extremely encouraging. The classes were different each time, which was probably the main reason I stuck with it. I knew other people liked it, but I couldn’t imagine doing something repetitive like running or biking. I never knew what class would be like, and that's what kept me coming to the gym. That, and the fact that I was really starting to notice changes.
I wasn't the only one. People were mentioning on a regular basis that I looked thinner and asked what I was doing to lose weight. Isaac Charles was still somewhere in the back of my mind, but it had been months since I ran into him, and somewhere during that time, my goal became more about me and less about him. That's not to say I would pass the chance to meet him once I got to my desired weight, but I honestly didn't have hopes of anything coming of it.
I continued to follow him on Instagram, so I saw his posts. He was a perfect male model who traveled the world hanging out with other perfect people. I'm sure I had no chance of penetrating those walls no matter how much weight I lost. At least that's what I told myself on a day like today when I decided to cheat.
"Why are you eating those?" Naomi asked when she came into my house one random afternoon in mid-August. I answered the door with a pack of Hostess chocolate cupcakes I'd bought from a gas station on the way home from work.
Most of my job was spent in hotels, but some of it was spent in the main office of the company I worked for. There was a girl named Bethany who worked in the office, and she'd been getting progressively meaner to me lately. I didn't know what I'd done to make her mad, but I hated conflict, and the friction I felt with her weighed heavy on my mind. She made a rude comment to me at the office earlier, and the cupcakes were meant to make me feel better.
"Bethany is so friendly to everyone else at the office and she treats me like crap," I said. "She's rude to me for no reason, and it really hurts my feelings."
Naomi screwed up her face like she was disgusted at the thought. "She's jealous."
I laughed a little, thinking Naomi was just saying what she thought I wanted to hear.
"No, I'm serious," she said. "Some people can't handle it when other people improve themselves. People will hold you down if you let them. There's a word for them."
"What?"
"Haters."
"I don't know how that applies."
"She's jealous that you're looking so good."
"You think she's being mean to me because I'm losing weight?"
"I'm not entirely sure because I haven’t met her, but it seems right."
"I just don't understand what she has to lose. Why would she care if I improve myself?"
"Haters don't see it like that. If she feels any direct competition with you, she'll try to hold you down. Believe me, if someone discourages you from reaching your goals, or makes you feel like some sort of show off, then they are not your real friend. They're just someone trying to hold you down."
"I never considered her a friend, but I certainly wouldn't think of her as the type who'd take pleasure in seeing me fail."
"You'd be surprised at how many people in the world take pleasure in seeing others fail. Unfortunately, they're everywhere. You have to ignore it."
I made a disappointed face. "It hurts my feelings that she doesn't like me. I never did anything to her."
"Well guess what, Beck…" Naomi grabbed the half-eaten cupcake out of my hand. "If you keep eating these and go back to what you were doing before, she'll be really nice to you again. If what you want is for some random nobody at your work to like you, then by all means, forget your goals, and go back to what you were doing. Because that's exactly what she wants you to do. You know that, right?"
I stared at her, trying to make sense of everything she was saying. I couldn't believe someone would be mean to me for trying to improve myself. I thought about it for a second and ultimately took some small pleasure in the realization that my efforts must actually be working.
"What are you smiling at?" she asked, taking the wrapper from me and stuffing the uneaten cupcake into it.
"I was just thinking that it kind of feels good to have a hater. I don’t think I've ever had someone be jealous of me before. Do you think that's seriously what it is?"
"Of course I do," she said. "Who could ever seriously be mad at you? You're like the sweetest person on the face of the earth."
"I'm not sweet enough to give up in order for her to feel better about herself."
"That's my girl," she said smiling. "You look amazing, by the way. I can really tell lately."
"Thanks. I'm starting to notice in my clothes, which is cool." I reached down and lifted my shirt. My pants, which had once been really tight, now hung loosely on my hips.
"Oh my gosh, you have to go shopping for some new clothes."
"I don't want to just yet," I said. "I still have about thirty-five pounds to go."
"These pants are never gonna last for another thirty-five pounds I'll see what I can dig up in my closet. I'll bet I have a few things that might work."
I'd never really been able to swap clothes with friends, and the thought of trying on her things and having them actually fit made me happy. "Thank you," I said sincerely.
She smiled at me. "I'm glad I caught you," she said, holding up the cupcake and giving me a reprimanding look.
"I can't believe I almost ate that," I said, thinking about how mad I was at Bethany for wanting to see me fail. Now I was primed and ready to do the opposite.
Chapter 6
Isaac
/> It was June first when I was last in Los Angeles, and I didn't return until the following December. I shot a second campaign with Tang, but it was down in San Diego, and I didn't end up going up to L.A. on that trip. San Diego was just as impressive as L.A., so I wasn't that disappointed.
This upcoming shoot was indoors in the ballroom of the hotel where I'd also be staying. It was a different hotel than my last trip, but Gail thought it'd be easier for me to stay where we'd be shooting, and I agreed. I wasn't picky about where the agencies put me up as long as it had a bed. Shane complained about accommodations more than I did, but he didn't really mean it. He got a kick out of joking about living the highlife, and we both cracked up at his entitled rants. It was all in good fun.
Shane was coming with me on this trip. I didn't mind traveling alone, but I tried to bring him on as many as I could. The agency covered all of my expenses, but I paid for Shane's plane ticket out of pocket and didn't mind since I preferred having him around.
We flew first class from JFK to LAX. It was cold enough to freeze spit in New York, but the pilot came over the intercom when we were an hour from LAX announcing that the weather was a cool sixty degrees in Los Angeles. Shane and I were both aware of what kind of forecast we were headed for, and packed accordingly, but we still smiled when the pilot announced the welcomed temperature.
"Just leave your jacket on till we get in the car so we can make it through the airport without a hassle," Shane said.
The ad campaign for the Dior fragrance I shot last time I was in L.A. gave me a lot of new exposure, and it was getting increasingly difficult to travel without being stopped. I was thankful for my fans, and hated to be rude, so most of the time I tried to bundle up—especially if I was in a hurry.
Just as I was thinking about maneuvering through the airport, a girl stopped in the isle next to Shane and stooped down to speak to us. She looked over her shoulder nervously as if hoping she wouldn't get caught in first class.
"I'm sorry, but I think we're landing soon, and I'd just really regret it if I knew you were on my flight and I didn't talk to you. I bought that perfume because of that ad you were in. I'm wearing it now."
She pushed up her own sweater sleeve and took a huge whiff of her forearm before extending it. She was aiming for me, but her arm didn't quite make it past Shane, so he leaned in to smell it. That made her smile at him like she was noticing him for the first time. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that he approved of the smell of her arm, and she smiled shyly as she put her sweater down.
"I'm going to need you to go ahead and find your seat, ma'am, we'll be starting our descent in just a moment."
I glanced at the flight attendant, who gave me an apologetic look. "We were just catching up for a second," I said. "If it's okay, she'll head back to her seat in just a minute."
The attendant was appeased once she saw that I didn't mind her being there, and the girl beamed. I was a terrible judge of age, but she seemed to be close to my age. I assumed she was in her twenties. She was sexy too. She looked like all the other beach babies out here—not a single thing out of place. Honey blonde gorgeousness with all the bells and whistles just kneeling down in the isle, begging for my attention. Let me tell you right now, it was hard not to let this kind of shit go to my head.
"Oh my God, thank you so much for doing that!" she whispered excitedly when the attendant turned to walk down the isle.
I smiled at her. "What's your name?"
"Emily, Em, it's Emily, but most people call me Em. It doesn't really matter. Emily or Em is fine. Your name's Nick, right?"
"It's Isaac, actually. My middle name's Nicholas, and a lot of my family calls me Nicky. I go by that on my social media."
"That's right. I think I knew that and I forgot. I'm sorry I'm so nervous right now."
"No worries, people call me Nicky all the time."
She handed me an airline napkin that was folded in half. Her hand trembled, so she decided to thrust it at me. I caught it awkwardly, and she cringed, making me smile.
"I wrote down the name of a club. I don't know what you're doing tonight, but I'll be there with some of my friends."
"Thanks," I said. I held the napkin, but didn't look at it. It was Saturday, and I didn't start the shoot till Monday, so it was actually a possibility that I'd take her up on the offer.
"It would be the most amazing thing ever if you came out," she said.
"We'll try to make it," Shane said.
"I have lots of friends," she added, looking to him for some reinforcement.
"I like friends," he said.
"They like you," she fired back.
"I might have to talk Nicky here into going out tonight."
She instantly flashed him the most ridiculous puppy dog eyes ever. "Please talk him into it!"
"Do you have your phone?" I asked.
Her eyes got huge and she stared at me. "Me?"
"Yeah, I was gonna snap a picture with you before you have to leave."
"Shit, I didn't bring it up here with me. I could just run back there and get it. I'm only on isle twelve."
"I got this," Shane said. He held up his phone. He stood up to let her sit next to me, but instead of sitting in his seat, she plopped down right on my lap and turned to the side so she could wrap her arms tightly around me while Shane snapped a picture.
She went back to her seat with whispered pleas for us to meet her later that night. Shane handed me his phone and I laughed as I stared at the photo. I was smiling broadly at the camera. She was smiling like crazy too, only her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. It looked like she was holding on to me for dear life, and for some reason it made my day.
"Text that to me please so I can post it," I said.
"She's a dime, dude, we're totally going to wherever's written down on that napkin."
I'd already forgotten I was even holding the thing. I handed him back his phone and unfolded it. It read:
I'll have a few of my friends with me at Major League tonight. Please come, Emily.
She included her phone number.
I handed it to Shane who put it into his pocket. He shifted his attention to his phone and I used the last few minutes of the flight to rest my eyes. Apparently, we now had plans for the night.
We got through the airport and found our driver with no problems. It was a thirty-minute drive to our hotel, which turned out to be even better than the last place. The concierge was helpful, and showed Shane and me to the ballroom where I'd be shooting before leading us to our room. It was an ornately furnished boutique hotel called St. Andrews that almost had an enchanted feel to it. Maybe it just struck me that way because the ballroom reminded me of something you'd see in Cinderella or Alice in Wonderland.
I'd been fortunate enough to be photographed in some beautiful rooms, but this one topped the charts. The black and white checkerboard floors looked to be made from marble, and it glistened as if it had just been polished. There were huge windows with ornately carved sills, and the silk curtains that hung from ceiling to floor were open letting in a ton of natural light.
"This is off the chain," Shane said.
"Yes sir, it's quite a popular room," the concierge, whose name was Gus said proudly.
"It's amazing," I said. "I guess we should get to our room, if you don't mind showing us to the elevator."
"I don't mind at all."
Shane and I followed Gus to the elevator. He assured us our bags were in the room and said to call if we needed anything at all.
I went to my bedroom to shower and hang out by myself a little bit and Shane stretched out on the couch in the living room. The way he kicked his shoes off and settled into the couch made me feel pretty confident he'd be sleeping within minutes. I had a lot of notifications waiting for me when I looked at my phone, but I didn't take the time to look at them. It had been a while since the last time I opened my phone, and the random social media notifications had piled up. Not many people had my phone number, though,
so there were only a handful of texts.
One of them was from Shane. It was the photo from the plane with the girl squeezing the daylights out of me. I smiled again as I stared down at it. I saved it to my photos before posting it on Instagram. I wrote a comment with it that said, "A friendly welcome back to L.A." I stared at it for two minutes while the first likes and comments rolled in. One of the very first comments was one that said, "That's meeeeee!" and I smiled at the thought of the girl on the plane as I put my phone away.
I showered, the whole time thinking about the amazing directions my life had taken. I was sore from yesterday's workout, and I stretched out in the shower, letting the jets hit me from four different directions. I loved the lavish lifestyle. I loved the women, the attention, the money, and the shower jets that sprayed me from all angles. But that's the trick—when you love something, you can't help but fear that it'll be taken away. It's an unfortunate but unavoidable side effect of love. That being said, I took moments like this one in the shower to remind myself of how fortunate I was. I needed to stay humble and appreciative of every moment. It was easy to feel good about myself when hot women were watching Instagram to see if I'd post a picture of them, but I knew my success was fragile and dependent on me looking as good or better than I did right now. It was a pressure I didn't mind handling, though—well worth it for all the spoils.
After my shower, I fell onto my bed and crashed for two hours. I woke up to Shane shaking my foot.
"I'm hungry," he said as I opened my eyes.
"What time is it?" I moaned.
"Almost six, but that's like nine to us."
"What are we gonna eat?" I asked.
"I don't know. That's why I'm waking you up. You really need to eat clean since you're shooting Monday, and you can't be drinking a ton tonight."
"I'm not the one who made plans for us to go party," I said, rolling over to get my T-shirt from the edge of the bed.
"I didn't say you couldn’t have anything to drink, but we're not going nuts. Gail said she needs you in top form on this one."
Following Isaac Page 4
