Halfway Perfect

by Julie Cross

  Chapter 7: Eve

  October 9, 4:30 a.m.

  New York City is the city that never sleeps. That’s a fact. However, at around four thirty in the morning, the city closes its eyes a bit just to rest them. There’s a stillness in the air that you can only feel in the wee hours of the morning.

  It takes two cups of coffee for me to get up at three thirty in order to aid the other photo assistants at Milk Studios rental office with gathering equipment before heading to the location.

  We finally pull up to the designated street right near where Seventeen shot the other day and across from Columbus Circle. After a bumpy ride in the back of a van, my head is spinning so bad that I’m nearly positive I’m going to puke from car sickness. Something I’ve been cursed with my whole life. This is not how I wanted to start off my first day on the job. I have to sit down on the curb for a few seconds, briefly letting my head fall between my knees. I don’t get too much of a break before I see Janessa’s out-of-place Land Rover pull up. I rush over to help her unload her equipment.

  “I hope you’re ready for a long week, Eve,” Janessa says as she gets out of the truck. She turns to face me and then adds, “Holy shit! You look like hell. Are you hungover?”

  I shake my head vigorously as if the movement alone is tangible evidence. “I had a long ride in the back of the equipment truck, but I’m fine. Just a little carsick. It’ll pass, I swear.”

  “Why don’t you go sit in the RV, take a few minutes to pull yourself together? I’ll have Juan help me unload the rest of the gear.”

  “Thanks, Janessa,” I say, trying to stop the heat from creeping up to my face. This is not how I wanted to start. “I’ll grab some water and I’ll be fine.”

  As I enter the RV, Hugo’s unmistakable cackle is the first thing I hear. He’s in his tight, burgundy man jumpsuit complete with an ascot and his ever-present Gucci man purse. He’s holding the rest of the crew hostage as he recalls his antics from the night before. I take a seat on the couch, trying not to listen, but I can’t really help it.

  “Can you believe she would wear that to a Tom Ford party?” Hugo says, like he’s speaking about the military launching a deadly missile or something. I try not to roll my eyes. “Speaking of tomfoolery. Did you hear that our models today are in a hot-and-heavy relationship?”

  Everyone seems to regard this information with interest, though they’re all a little too cool to act super excited like Hugo.

  “I just saw it in US Weekly.” Hugo whips the magazine out of his back pocket and holds it up for everyone to see. He clears his throat dramatically, and I do roll my eyes this time. “Gorgeous up-and-coming fashion models Alex Evans and Elana—très chic: she’s only got one name, like Madonna—started dating after a chance meeting on the set of Seventeen magazine. The fashion couple has been cast to debut their new romance on billboards worldwide courtesy of Mr. Calvin Klein, who just happened to be seeking a real-life romance for his upcoming ads.”

  The Seventeen magazine shoot—Elana and Alex. Maybe he took her to that One Direction concert after all. Maybe they hit it off during an Auto-Tuned, lip-synched version of You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful. How sweet. I can’t help laughing under my breath, but luckily no one notices and Hugo isn’t done with his gossip session.

  “My hair and makeup is going to be gracing the new up-and-coming fashion couple of the year. You can all bow before the queen!”

  As the RV erupts with laughs and conversation, I’m left thinking about the reality of this new piece of gossip. Would Alex really agree to something like this? She’s so young. What am I saying? Age didn’t stop Wes from hooking up with me. Why would Alex be any different? Even if he does seem different.

  But he knew I’d be here and he’s been texting back and forth with me over the course of this past weekend. He’s even shown hints of flirting. And so have I, to be honest.

  I wouldn’t put it above Wes to make this relationship happen for the cameras.

  I’m already sick of this job. Sick of this world. The push-your-way-to-the-top stuff here makes Columbia look tame. And you know it’s bad when a job is more complicated than life at an Ivy League school.

  Feeling less nauseated, I get up from the couch and head outside to help Janessa. Maybe if I’m really helpful, we can finish early.

  Janessa sees me emerge from the RV and waves me over. She quickly points out the producer, Russ, who’s standing a few feet away from us. “Russ did some scouting last night and I want to go with him and check out some of the locations so we have an idea of light and timing and such. You stay here and make sure the equipment gets set up and let us know if there’s any problems.”

  “Sure. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  As I rush over to the equipment van to make sure everything is being unloaded properly, I notice the catering has arrived and I sprint over to clear some room on the preassembled tables that now hold everyone’s coats and bags. Walking back to the RV, balancing a huge pile of belongings, I notice Alex arriving in a black town car. I’m caught off guard when he scans the room, his gaze pauses on me, and then he smiles and waves, like I’m the very person he had been looking to see first thing this morning.

  Not his supposed girlfriend, Elana.

  Chapter 8: Alex

  I don’t realize I’m grinning at Eve until I hear the car that dropped me off pulling away. Then I remember the conversation I had in Wes’s office on Friday.

  Be a one-woman man.

  I smooth my face into a more neutral, disinterested look and walk toward Eve. “How’s it going?”

  Eve shrugs and her eyes dart around as if she’s still testing the waters to see if anyone remembers her. “Could be better. But also could be worse.”

  I spot Elana arriving with the round Hispanic woman who is claiming to be her assistant. I carefully conceal myself behind Eve. I’m so not in the mood for this. And what the hell is wrong with Wes? Dropping a bomb like this on me after the article is open to public eyes. When had he told US Weekly? Obviously before they could write and print that article. What if they had called me asking for a statement? I guess he must have thought of that already. Wes doesn’t screw up details like those.

  But now I’m looking at this girl, and I know she’s not eighteen, and I know I am eighteen, and it’s weird. I wonder if she had the same conversation with her agent, Kara.

  “Look, your girlfriend’s here,” Eve says, and I hear the disapproval dripping from every word. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

  I hate that she knows about me and Elana already, and Eve and I haven’t even gotten started yet. I’m probably going to have to stop texting her. I probably shouldn’t have started in the first place. Lindsey, my ex-girlfriend, was right. I wouldn’t want to choose a girl over career opportunities. That’s what she had said when we decided to break up.

  So, if my two-year-long high school relationship had to go, worrying about being able to continue texting another girl just for fun can’t exactly be a priority at the moment. I run my fingers through my hair. “Right…good. I’ve been waiting for her to show up.”

  Eve gives me a weird look. It feels like forever since I’ve done the girlfriend thing and I have no idea what my next move is. But I decide to man up and break the ice with Elana.

  I step right in front of Elana, interrupting her conversation with someone, and grab her by the hand. “Excuse us for a minute,” I say, grinning at the woman who’s glaring at me like she’s a father about to whip out a shotgun. The nanny posing as an assistant.

  And I really hope my parents don’t pick today to start reading pop culture magazines.

  Elana follows me behind the RV and out of sight from anyone else. “So,” I say, scratching the back of my head. She looks even younger without makeup on. Maybe I should take her to Chuck E. Cheese’s for our first date. “You’re cool with this relationship thing? Because if
not—”

  If not what? I don’t know why I presented it that way. Wes didn’t give me a choice, so that means probably Elana doesn’t have one either.

  “Its fine with me,” she says with her thick French accent. “I like acting. And maybe it won’t be for too long, right?”

  “I hope not,” I blurt out and then immediately regret it when I see the look on her face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I don’t really know you. And besides, you’re…” A child. The same age as my little sister.

  “I understand.” She flashes me a smile and then both of us are being called over to hair and makeup. “Kara explained it to me. We’re both professionals during the shoot, so there’s nothing to pretend while we’re here.”

  I let out a breath, relieved that we don’t have to look all coupley and in love or something when I’m trying to get through this job. I rest a hand on her shoulder and even that feels awkward and heavy. “Okay, don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” I tell her because it seems like something I should say. I am the adult in this pair. Technically speaking.

  The next couple of hours zip by. I hardly have time to breathe. But every time I’m not under the spotlight, I find my gaze drifting to Eve. She looks nervous, but she’s also right there on top of things. I watch Janessa go through a series of shots with her, and Eve makes suggestions on the lighting and angles, then Janessa shouts out directions to the crew, making the necessary changes.

  When we all get a break to eat, I almost sit by Elana, but she’s going through her schedule with the “assistant” and Eve is sitting by herself, picking at a bagel and writing furiously in a notebook that’s propped up on her knees. I plop down on the ground next to Eve and wait for her to notice me.

  She doesn’t look up from her notebook when she says, “So, I guess that One Direction concert worked out pretty well?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I love how her nanny looks like she’s ready to chop your balls off.”

  I stare at Eve, trying to rewind the past ten seconds and make sure I heard her correctly. “Did you just say nanny?”

  “Assistants don’t usually feed their bosses gummy vitamins and force them to open textbooks.” Eve sets her notebook down and turns to face me. “I know you’re not really dating her.”

  Uh-oh. Not good. I stuff a big piece of bagel in my mouth. “Yes, I am.”

  “Let me guess,” Eve says. “The designer wanted the two of you as a package deal. It wouldn’t be the first time a designer used real-life couples. But surely they aren’t telling people she’s fourteen, right?”

  The bagel congeals itself to the roof of my mouth. How does she know all this? I’ve only been in a fake relationship for a few days, and we’re already being outed by one person. I cough to keep myself from choking, and Eve hands me a bottle of water.

  “Forget it,” she says. “You don’t have to answer that. It’s none of my business.”

  I take a big swallow of water and clear my throat. “It’s possible you’re right,” I admit, though some part of my brain is screaming at me to shut up before I ruin the lie Wes has worked hard to build.

  Surprise fills Eve’s face and I’m not sure whether she’s shocked to be right or shocked that I admitted it. She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Was it your idea?”

  “God no,” I say without hesitation. “In fact, I got the plan after the story broke.”

  “So how old is she now?”

  I take another swallow of water, keeping my eyes on Elana and her nanny. “Eighteen.”

  Eve laughs and picks up her notebook again. “It’s so typical, isn’t it? Goes right with the modeling world. You don’t like something, well, go ahead and make it look exactly how you want it to. Whatever amounts of lies and Photoshop that requires.”

  “Bitter much?” I say and she smiles at me, her nose wrinkling, and I can’t help but notice the freckles running across the bridge of her nose and spreading outward.

  “I was bitter. I’m over it, mostly. I get a flash of it every once in a while, and I have to hold myself back from standing up and giving a big speech.”

  I kind of want to ask her more about what happened and why she bailed when everything had been going so well for her, but part of me doesn’t want to know. I like her like this. Eve, the college girl. The photographer’s assistant.

  “How are you holding up so far?”

  She sits up straighter and smiles again. “You know, it’s actually been pretty awesome. I screwed up a couple of things right off the bat and Janessa doesn’t like people who have their heads up their asses, but she’s also not above listening to my thoughts.”

  “Or maybe she listens to you because you’re actually good,” I say. “You have a huge advantage in this setting. You’ve been on both sides—the one taking the direction and now the one giving it.”

  She beams at me and then it fades to a more skeptical look. “I don’t know if I can believe you or not. You could just be sucking up to me because I know all your secrets now.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine, don’t believe me. But don’t act like you know me or something just because I’m in the tabloids this week.” What I don’t say, though I’m sure she hears it, is you of all people should know better than to make non-fact-based assumptions about people.

  The skin under her freckles turns pink. “Okay, I don’t know you, and I was going to say that I know your type, but that’s totally…”

  “Hypocritical?” I suggest, then stand up before she can answer. “I should get back to work.”

  Truth is, she probably does know my type, but maybe I don’t want to be my type anymore.

  Chapter 9: Eve

  God. I’m such a bitch sometimes. He was probably trying to be nice. It’s just so hard knowing who’s putting all those words in Alex’s mouth and getting him jobs like this one, and to not lump him together with lying agents like Wes and arrogant models like…well, almost all of the ones I’ve met.

  Not that Alex isn’t arrogant. He totally is, and it’s the first thing I noticed about him at the last shoot, but today he seems subdued, like he’s not in his own skin.

  And holy shit. I never expected him to admit to the fake relationship thing. I wasn’t even 100 percent sure until I saw his face. He needs to do a little better if he plans to keep up the story for more than a few days.

  “Eve?” Janessa calls.

  I scramble to my feet and head over to where Alex and Elana will be shot together for the first time today. Elana looks stunning getting out of the safari jeep parked smack dab in the middle of Columbus Circle in her slim cheetah-print minidress and a green linen safari jacket. Elana was made for these clothes. There’s no denying that a part of me was happy being in the spotlight. It’s intoxicating.

  “I’m having trouble getting the positions I want and still have all the clothes showing,” Janessa says to me once I’m beside her. “I’m not used to that being an important factor.”

  I scan the set, looking Alex and Elana over, head to toe. “Do we need shoes in the shot?”

  “Apparently it’s a must.” Janessa nods toward Jacqueline, the stylist.

  I almost laugh at Janessa’s reaction. I’m sure she thinks that the concept and the angles should be most important. But this is fashion. Shoes are essential.

  “I have an idea?” I say like a question because I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.

  She holds her hand out as if to tell me to go ahead. I walk closer to the costars and take Alex’s hands, pulling his arms around Elana’s waist. When he stiffens, I lift my eyebrows subtly to remind him that everyone is watching, and he really needs to be on. “Elana, put your arms here.” I wrap her arms around Alex’s neck. “Now, lift her up.”

  After Alex does as he’s told and Elana is off the ground, I grab her fancy boots and lift them up to
ward her butt so we can see the shoes.

  “Don’t move,” I order. Then I walk back beside Janessa and look them over. “What do you think? We can’t see the front of her. That might be a problem.”

  Janessa lifts her camera and looks through the lens. “It is a problem.”

  My stomach drops, and I feel like a complete idiot for even opening my mouth.

  “But,” Janessa continues, “you gave me an idea. We can do three different shots. Back this one up two steps and do a strip of three pictures, like we’re getting her walking into his arms.”

  “Then we’ve got the outfit, the shoes, and the chemistry between the happy couple,” I add.

  Janessa nods, her lens still glued to her face. “Not bad, Eve.”

  I catch Alex listening to Janessa’s praise. He smiles at me. I feel guilty all over again and make a promise to apologize later for snapping at him.

  While bringing this new vision to life, Janessa quizzes me on the correct ISO, lens use, and sun position. Some of it I answer easily, but most of it, I’m listening intently to her answers. I really do have a lot to learn.

  After we’re finished for the day, Janessa and I are walking up the steps to the RV when I hear Hugo’s loud voice project to New Jersey and back.

  “Come on, you have to remember her?” Hugo says. “You mean Wes has never once mentioned her?”

  I freeze on the top step, my heart pounding. Janessa sighs and throws me a look that’s either angry or sympathetic. I can’t tell. But I can tell that she knows. She must have heard Alex at the Seventeen shoot. She was right behind me when he made his very loud proclamation, you’re Eve Castle!

  “Look at how tall she is,” someone else says. “And gorgeous.”

  “I think she’s put on a few pounds. That’s why I didn’t recognize her right away. Plus size might be her best option now,” another person says, and group laughter follows.