by LS Anders
He had been so busy with his modeling career that he hadn’t had time to pursue his real dream. But now that his modeling was coming to a close, he wasn’t going to waste any more time getting started and was already taking classes at the New York Film Academy Photography School.
He couldn’t totally rip on his modeling career, though. It had bought him this $12.5 million-dollar two-story penthouse in Greenwich Village, where he was currently chilling on his 500-square-foot terrace with an outside kitchen, Venetian plaster walls, and Brazilian walnut floors.
Life could be worse.
He rubbed the center of his chest trying to remove the hollow ache that was always lurking just beneath the surface.
One would think having wonderful parents and a pretty damn good childhood, a remarkable modeling career in the US and abroad, a bank account that was nothing to sneeze at, a well sought-after, kick-ass pad in his favorite area in New York City, and never lacking for sex… make that blow jobs… He would be the most satisfied man on the freaking planet.
But, he wasn’t.
His parents were still living miles away in his hometown of Vail, Colorado. His modeling career was full of superficial people who just wanted to use his image to sell their shit. Granted, he got paid bank to do it. But still, it would be nice if people wanted to get to know him. He was a real person, not a freaking object!
He had no complaints regarding his bank account; he had earned ever cent of that money. He did love his penthouse, but the size of it made him feel lonelier than he already was. As for his sex life, blow jobs were always a good thing, but he wished they had more meaning than just getting off.
There was a huge piece missing from his life, but it hadn’t really affected him until now that he was a little older. He really wanted to find a serious girlfriend, but had yet to meet anyone that wasn’t completely enamored with his career or who appreciated him as a person instead of something to be gained by being associated with him.
His computer let out a ding alerting him that his download was complete. He unplugged his camera from the USB and flopped down on the outdoor sofa to review his latest shots.
Thinking of meaningless orgasms, there she was: his current girlfriend, Regina Hemsley. Hmmm… girlfriend didn’t really seem like the right word to describe her. But he couldn’t really introduce her as his suck buddy, could he?
They had met backstage at New York Fashion Week the year before. She had been one of those up and coming models that had been lucky enough to be chosen to walk the runway for the event. He liked her when he first met her. She was fresh and sweet, new to the business. She had this look of vulnerability about her that made him want to protect her from all the ills in the world. She was a fairly decent model and a very good actress, as it turned out.
Underneath that sweet, innocent exterior was a manipulative, self-serving, superficial user who would do damn near anything to get her foot firmly planted in the door of the modeling industry and really didn’t need protecting. If anything, people needed protecting from her.
He just never had much opportunity to get out and meet girls except for other models, and they weren’t really to his liking. Most of them were so caught up in themselves they didn’t have time to get to know him aside from who he was in the world of modeling.
Plus, the model types tended to have no meat on their bones. Him being a boob and ass man, this was an issue. All the girls he worked with were super skinny, anorexic-looking waifs. Not their fault, just the way it was in the fashion industry. Besides, they were all so much younger than him.
The alternative? Gushing fans that were so enamored with his persona they couldn’t make it past his exterior to get to know him as the person he actually was or they were more interested in earning bragging rights by being seen with him.
What he really wanted was a woman. One with meat on her bones. One with more substance to her personality. Someone closer to his own age that he would share common interests with other than modeling or clothes. One that would see him as a real person. One that would see him beneath his media persona.
Flipping through his latest photos, he needed to narrow it down to just one shot for his homework assignment. The rest he would give to Regina for her portfolio and as payment for her time. You would think that, being his girlfriend and all, she would be nice enough to pose for him as a favor and not ask for anything in return. But then, that wouldn’t be the shallow superficial bitch he knew so well.
He really did need to cut her lose. She wasn’t what he was looking for in a long-term relationship and most definitely wasn’t marriage material. But she was good to have on hand when he needed a date for an event. Plus, she could suck the chrome off a bumper.
On second thought, maybe he would keep her around for a little while longer. Eventually, she would break up with him on her own as soon as he quit modeling altogether, but right now, there was a flurry of press since he'd announced his retirement from the industry, and she was soaking it up like a fresh tampon.
Once she absorbed all that, there would be someone else to take his place, whether it was another male model or some other willing cock belonging to a man she was using for her own personal gain jammed between her jacked-up Juvederm lips.
He felt a twinge of guilt. Shaking it off, he tried to rationalize that she was using him as much as he was using her. He realized that made him a hypocrite, but he just really didn’t give a damn at the moment, or that was what he was trying to convince himself.
He should try to think of it as services rendered, since she was using his fame to gain a foothold in the modeling world, but every time he had decided to end it, she would reel him back in. Like the time she brought him chicken soup and stayed to help when he had a wicked cold. Another time, she had thrown a surprise party for his birthday. Or she would say things or act a certain way that reminded him of how she was a year ago, making him think back to his first impression of her. Back when they'd first met and how innocent she had appeared to be.
Then he would second guess himself thinking he had misjudged her. That maybe she wasn’t as one-dimensional as he thought, and maybe she did genuinely like him. He knew there was no love lost between them, but he did sometimes like her, when she wasn’t being a complete bitch.
Damn it! He just didn’t know what to think anymore. All he knew for certain was Regina wasn’t the one for him, but he just didn’t know how to break it off with her.
What was worse, his mom had called, very upset albeit very excited, about having to learn from a tabloid magazine while waiting in line at the grocery store that he had a girlfriend. After he had explained that it was a symbiotic relationship of sorts, her excitement over a future wedding and the possibility of grandchildren she had been pining for lessened. She seemed to understand, but not approve, judging by her very distasteful sounding response of, “Oh, I see.”
That was all he would ever hear from her on that issue, unless he asked her specifically for her opinion. She never interfered in his life or gave unwanted advice, but always made it clear that she was there for him if he ever needed her. That was just one of the things he loved about her.
He had an immeasurable amount of respect for his mom, her love so unconditional it felt like an invisible cord connecting them over the hundreds of miles that kept them apart. He wanted to believe it was possible to receive that same kind of love from a woman, a soul mate. If he were lucky enough to find her.
He was so ready to do the whole settle-down routine, get married and have the grandchildren his mom wanted, but only with a woman who could give him unequivocal love. There were over 1.6 million people living in Manhattan alone. There had to be at least one girl out there for him.
Was it too much to ask for someone to love who would love him back? He longed to have a deep connection with another person, one that he could confide in, whom he could tell his hopes and dreams. A love that surpassed all judgement. He wanted to start a family and have post card picture-perfect ho
lidays. But until he found his soul mate, it was all just a pipe dream.
For now, he would be happy with moving his friend Tegan down here. He was really hoping the guy took him up on his offer to room with him if he landed that job at the tattoo place. At least he would have one friend in the city, and he wouldn’t feel so alone. It always amazed him how he could be surrounded by so many people and be so completely alone all at the same time. He had tons of acquaintances in NYC, but no one he was close to.
He knew Tegan would only be rooming with him until he found a place of his own, which would be sooner rather than later. He wasn’t one of those people who took advantage of others, but he would still be close by, and they could hang out together like the good old days. He really missed that fucker.
They had been inseparable ever since their fight back in seventh grade. They had fought over… what was it? He couldn’t remember, but he’d bet it was something really stupid. Of course, Tegan would have won since he was a lot bigger in both height and girth then.
Those weren’t the only differences between the two. Their personalities were polar opposites of one another. Tegan hardly ever smiled, was stoic and unapproachable, while Vehn was easy going, happy go lucky, and always quick with a smile.
Not to mention they were from completely different backgrounds. Vehn had grown up in a life of privilege thanks to both his parents having well-paying jobs. His dad was a heart surgeon and his mom a clinical psychologist. Meanwhile, Tegan had grown up in a single-wide trailer, with an absent father and a mom who was more concerned with feeding her drug habit than she was caring for her son.
Needless to say, Vehn’s parents, being the kind-hearted people that they were, had taken him in like he was one of their own, and sadly, Tegan’s mom never even noticed he was gone.
He supposed their mutual dislike of the Power Rangers had been the catalyst for their unlikely friendship. As they both waited outside the principal’s office after their fight, a sixth grader walked in wearing a Power Ranger T-shirt. Tegan had taken one look at the kid, snorted his dislike and crossed his arms over his chest. Vehn had jumped on board with, “More like Power Douche.” Tegan had nodded in agreement and one fist bump later, they were new BFFs.
After high school, life had taken them in different directions. Tegan had decided he wanted to put his artistic talents to use and become a tattoo artist, so he sent out multiple applications to tattoo studios across the country. A studio in Boston took him on as an apprentice, and he had been there ever since.
Vehn had always been interested in photography and decided on pursuing a BA at the College of Arts and Media in Denver. Little did he know, his future would end up being on the other end of the camera. He had modeled for a fellow student who had won an award for the photograph for which he had posed. It had found its way into the hands of an agent at Boss models in NYC. Next thing he knew, he was signed with the agency and on his way to becoming one of the most recognizable faces on the planet.
Over the years, he and Tegan had kept in touch and visited when possible, but it just wasn’t the same. Even if his friend didn’t land that job at the tattoo studio in New York, he was glad to know that Tegan would be leaving Boston and Tracy for good.
That girl had been dragging him down for years. Vehn had only met her a handful of times and could never understand what Tegan saw in her. He had always heard men tended to marry someone that reminded them of their mothers. Unfortunately, he had chosen a woman that had the traits of his birth mother rather than that of his adoptive one.
Tracy had gotten pregnant at 19, they married, and then she miscarried because of her extensive drug use. Tegan had told Vehn that he always felt that her drug use and the miscarriage were his fault somehow, even though she would sneak around taking drugs behind his back while he was at work. Vehn had tried to convince him that he couldn’t have eyes on her 24/7 and that the drug use was her own decision.
No matter how hard you tried or what you did for someone, you couldn’t take care of a person that didn’t want your help. But Tegan had stuck with her.
The girl was just trash, plain and simple and Tegan deserved better than that. Hell, they both did.
Callie pretended that all her attention was locked on the chocolate cupcake, but out of her periphery she watched Evana seize that moment to silently close the break room door at Exotic Ink Tattoo Studio. Evana was no fool; she didn't underestimate Callie’s reaction if she were to lock eyes on Andrea.
The tension in the shop was a tangible thing, and Callie knew Evana would prevent a confrontation if she could, being a peacekeeper at heart. Avie was of a like mind and knew she’d been lured into the break room for the sole purpose of giving Andrea time to pack her shit and get out. Those two had used Trina’s cupcakes like a carrot on a string, knowing Callie couldn’t resist.
That meant Andrea was due in anytime now! Callie deduced.
Everyone knew how Callie felt about Rayna, and knew she’d come to her defense. Plus, Callie always liked to have the last word, but the boss lady abhorred drama. Callie could tell by Evana’s rigid posture that she’d already had enough.
“What are you gonna do now, E? Are you gonna go ahead and advertise for a new artist right away, since Andrea is leaving? I mean, I don’t mind working on my usual days off to cover for a while, but with only you and me tattooing until Rayna comes back, I don’t see how in the hell we can manage walk-ins too,” Callie asked, looking to Evana for an answer.
“Well, out of respect for Rayna, I’d like to hold off on hiring anyone to replace Brent. I just think it would be too difficult for her to see someone else working at his station this soon. But I think we need to hire one to replace Andrea, just to give us a break and take some of the overflow of walk-ins. I’ve already posted an ad for the vacancy and have had several promising responses.” Evana took a seat, leaning forward to snag one of the double chocolate cupcakes for herself.
Callie nodded her head in agreement and tried studiously not to look over at the closed door. She didn’t want to stress Evana out any more than she already was, but she was sitting on the edge of her seat and she knew there was no way she could promise she wasn’t going to spring up out of her chair if that door so much as twitched.
Callie could tell Evana was upset about letting Andrea go since she would be down two artists, and business had really picked up. Evana genuinely liked Andrea’s work and had commented several times that she felt the girl was one of the best American traditional tattooists she had ever seen aside from her late husband, Kyle.
But, given the circumstances of Brent’s unexpected death, or rather the fact he'd been balls deep in Andrea when he suffered a massive cerebral aneurysm that suddenly ended his life, she knew Evana was glad the girl was leaving right away for Rayna’s sake.
Rumor had it that Evana had accepted Andrea’s resignation over the phone, letting her forgo the usual two-week notice, and had even written her a letter of recommendation so she could find employment elsewhere as quickly as possible.
“I don’t want Rayna to have a constant reminder of Brent’s indiscretion staring her in the face while she’s mourning,” Evana added more to herself than the others in the room as if she were trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing. “Plus, I don’t like all this tension in the shop; it’s bad for business and bad for the harmony among you all. I already have my hands full keeping you and Cale separated.” Evana eyed Callie. “You two are way worse with the practical jokes and bickering than any real brother and sister.”
Callie knew Evana was sympathizing with Rayna. She had first-hand knowledge of losing a spouse, something Callie could never imagine. Just by the look on Rayna’s face at the receiving of friends, Callie didn’t want to have first-hand knowledge.
The poor woman looked ruined, and she knew that look of utter devastation had come directly from the way Rayna had lost Brent. She had had to learn of his and Andrea’s affair from the police when they explained to her the
circumstances surrounding his death based on Andrea’s statement.
Apparently, Andrea was unable to get her small frame out from under Brent’s six foot two, one hundred and eighty-five-pound mass of, well… dead weight. Luckily, she was able to stretch and reach Brent’s cell phone to call 911. According to Andrea’s report, the device had been tossed on her bedside table after his call to lie to Rayna telling her he would be home late because he was out having a drink with a future client.
The entire studio was in uproar about it, and Evana didn’t deserve any more drama because it wasn’t going to fix what had already happened, but it was not in Callie’s nature to look the other way. She felt bad that she was unable to stop herself from a confrontation with Andrea. The last thing Evana needed was to have the peace in her shop disrupted, too, and Callie wasn’t blind to the shadow of sadness that Evana battled daily over losing Kyle.
Exotic Ink had had a good thing going with that diverse group of artists. Now Evana was tasked with finding people to replace the ones she had just lost. She was down two tattoo artists in one fell swoop. Cale brought in a lot of business, but only did piercings and wasn’t interested in learning to tattoo. Plus, they needed seasoned artists, like yesterday, not rookies that needed supervising.
“I agree, Evana. I think Rayna needs some time to get used to the idea that Brent’s not coming back. As far as Andrea goes, hire away and good riddance to that home-wreaking cunt,” Avie declared.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Avie. That name needs to be reserved just for her. No, wait, she is deserving of more than just a name. She has earned the title of Andrea the Cunt. We should get her a sash with that on it, like a warning label, so other people can be forewarned.” Evana and Avie giggled at Callie’s antics. “Look out, everybody, here she comes! Andrea the Cunt is approaching! Hide your husbands and boyfriends before she can get her claws in them.” Callie finished off her tirade with, “What a whore!”
