by Emily Bishop
I had no doubt this was the place, what with the floating cameras and people yelling instructions at beautiful girls dressed in, well, pretty much nothing. My nerves were threatening to cut off my air supply as I realized I had no idea where to go or who to report to. A tiny, elderly woman barking into a wireless headset approached me.
“Are you Demi Fowler?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak with a lump the size of a grapefruit forming in my throat.
“You’re late,” she snapped. “They’re waiting for you in makeup.” She pointed me to bright lights at the far side of the warehouse.
A quick glance at my watch told me that I was five minutes early, but the woman’s severe bun and obsidian eyes allowed no room for argument. A few of the models hovering nearby caught my name and shot me concerning looks as I crossed the floor.
For some reason, I’d been expecting to be the only model here. I wasn’t. Not by long shot. And from the looks on their faces, I’d inadvertently stolen the top job they’d had their sights set on. I tried my best to look unaffected, until a deep voice spoke behind me, giving me shivers and causing a light smattering of goosebumps to rise on my skin.
“Demi, I’m so glad you made it,” Barrett told me. “Let me show you to hair and makeup.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, but he wasn’t listening. He was already talking rapidly about how busy our schedule was for the day.
“So, you have to meet Stefan, the photographer. He’ll give you an idea of his concept for the shoot when you’re done with prep. Then you’ll sit down with the marketing team and discuss the strategy going forward. After that, we’ll—”
“Hart, I need you,” a frazzled-looking man wearing horn-rimmed glasses called. “Stef’s threatening to walk because of the new software you’ve had installed.”
“Of course, he is,” Barrett muttered, dragging a hand over his five o’clock shadow of a beard. He met my eyes as he sat me down to be primped and prepped. “I have to go deal with this. Will you be okay?”
I glanced around at the other models who were studiously ignoring me and nodded slowly. “Of course, go do your thing.”
It was obvious to me that he’d worked hard to pull all the details for my being in the shoot together, even more so when a girl with shaved hair and piercings through everything I could see came up behind me. She had a curling iron in one hand and a wheeled trolley of what looked like an artist’s palette combined with medieval torture devices with her.
“I’m Stevie,” she said, draping a black cloth over my chest. “You’re Demi, the new face of BHA Models, I believe. Welcome to hell.”
With that comforting greeting and more than a few loathsome stares from the girls around me, Stevie got to work layering on more makeup than I’d ever worn in my life and styling my hair to within an inch of its life.
People blurred in the reflection of the mirror, passing by without so much as a greeting. I managed to catch a few of their bitter comments, all of which came down to the fact that they had more experience than I had and that I didn’t deserve to be hired for this position.
Stevie ignored the comments, so I followed suit, glaring haughtily straight into the mirror in front of me and trying not to wince as Stevie’s hands transformed me from ordinary Demi to Demi 2.0.
“She’s up,” a man with chestnut hair and a clipboard clamped to his chest yelled, craning his neck around the modest partition between the set and the prep area. “Better get into that dress before Stef finds another reason to walk.”
Leading me to hanging sheets that were the only private dressing area, Stevie nodded at it and waited until I was practically naked before sliding in behind me and handing me an indigo evening gown so beautiful it would make fairies cry.
“Strap in, sister,” she told me. “You’re barking with the big dogs now.”
I gulped and followed her orders.
A hush fell over the warehouse as I stepped out onto the set. The dress clung to me in all the right places. When the music started back up, someone yelled at me. “We’re doing backdrop shoots first.”
I froze, not sure where they wanted me to go. A couple of the other models had formed a loose circle behind a gigantic camera and were tittering at my inexperience.
“God,” I heard someone whisper. “She doesn’t even know what a backdrop is.”
I gritted my teeth, reminded myself of why I was there, and marched to an impatient-looking man with Italian features.
“Good,” he said. “That’s a start, at least.”
Then he turned to where Barrett had appeared close behind him. “She’s perfect but would it have killed you to find one with some experience?”
Barrett shrugged. “She’ll get the hang of it.”
The photographer started shouting directions, and soon, I could hear the frustration creeping into his voice. “She doesn’t know how to stand or how to pose. I might as well be taking pictures of a beautiful porcelain doll, Hart.”
That did it. I’d tried. For my parents’ sake and my own, but after two hours in sky-high heels and a never-ending parade of smirking, bitchy Barbie dolls commenting from the sidelines, I was done.
“Do you mind if we take a break?” I asked, already heading for an exit. As much as I hated to admit it, I was too demoralized to continue that day. I didn’t wait for them to answer before I threw open the door to the fire escape and drew in a few deep breaths.
“You okay?” Barrett asked, leaning against the door to the fire escape that I’d propped open. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I should’ve realized how overwhelming it all could be and ordered a closed shoot.”
I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes, not giving a damn if my makeup smudged. I turned away from him on the narrow steps of the fire escape. “I shouldn’t have signed your contract. I can’t do this. I’m so sorry for wasting your time.”
Barrett sucked in a deep breath. Then his hands were on my shoulders, warm, comforting, and sure. “You can do this, Demi. You’re not wasting my time. I was wasting yours.”
He turned briskly and bellowed from the doorway. “Everyone out. Only Stefan stays.”
No one breathed for a minute, then there was a low grumbling as they cleared out, no one daring to question Barrett’s command.
“See, I fixed it,” he said, still behind me. “Come back inside, Demi, and I’ll prove to you that you can do this.”
He held out a hand to me as I turned. I accepted it only because there was the slightest hint of vulnerability in his eyes when I met them. He led me back inside the newly-deserted warehouse where only one man was leaning over a laptop set up in the corner, muttering what I was sure were Italian curse words.
“Stefan,” Barrett said. “Come meet Demi properly.”
The man raised his head from the screen, sighed, then walked over to us. “My pleasure, bellissima.”
Stefan grasped my hand and raised it to brush his lips against the skin on the back of my hand.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I responded, still sure that I was going to be a great disappointment to them both.
“Now, Demi,” Barrett said. “Forget about the camera. Do what you would do if you were at home on a Friday night, talking to a friend.”
I wasn’t sure about this, but he was the expert, so I followed his instructions.
Barrett moved so that I was slightly facing the light streaming in from the top windows of the warehouse to keep him in my sights. “Have I told you about the time Nancie was twelve and insisted that she needed money so our chef could take her grocery shopping?”
Despite the tenseness of the day, I found myself immersed in his story, clapping my hands together and howling with laughter when it turned out that his niece had needed the money to buy her first bra. Though I was sure he would never admit it, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and the tips of his ears showed evidence of being either exhilarated or humiliated by sharing so much of his life as the shoot wore on.
Und
er his expert guidance, I relaxed and started having fun when he began suggesting poses. By the end of the shoot, moody Stefan—as I’d dubbed him in my head—was beaming at me and muttering to himself in Italian.
“Thank you, Barrett,” I said, once I’d changed back into my yoga pants and tank top. “You really saved me there.”
“Is that a thanks from ‘Ms. Enjoy-Your-Burger’?” he teased lightly.
I deserved for him to give me a bit of a hard time, though, after the way I’d treated him, so I didn’t tease him back.
“It is,” I said sincerely.
“Well, in that case, it was my pleasure. See you next week, Demi.” He grinned warmly, a welcome surprise from his usual confident smirk.
“See you next week, Barrett,” I replied, fighting back a smile as I tucked my hair behind my ear and headed toward the subway station.
Chapter 7
Barrett
Holy fucking shit.
Demi’s pictures from the week before were phenomenal. Stefan had started sending over the proofs that morning, and she looked mouthwateringly divine in each and every single one of them.
It had been a week since the shoot, and I’d been working her hard, setting up more shoots and trying her out with different looks. I’d been careful to make sure they were all closed shoots, though, even breaking my cardinal rule and being in some pictures with her. We wouldn’t use any that showed my face, of course. It was only to take a few shots of her doing things like watching TV or eating dinner, while having someone to share glances with.
In just one week, our working relationship had become rock solid. Demi took my lead without question, took risks when I suggested them, and was growing quickly into her role as a top model.
Staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in my office, my eyes blind to the stunning view of the Chrysler and Empire State Buildings and the city beyond, I was starting to realize that a working relationship wasn’t all that I wanted with her.
Over the time we’d spent together, I realized that I wanted her more than before, for more than even one night, even though I’d happily start with just one night.
My thoughts drifted to Wednesday morning, when Gloria, the model Adam had seduced a few weeks before, tried to steal the spotlight from Demi.
Stefan, Demi, and I were in an old office building in Midtown, discussing her shoot for the day when Gloria arrived. We’d booked the building for the day for back-to-back shoots but I had personally arranged for Demi’s to be two hours earlier than the others so we’d still be shooting closed.
Gloria had just so happened to appear in time for Demi’s shoot, undeniably trying to steal the spotlight.
“Oh, I’m ever so sorry I’m early,” she’d drawled. “I was wondering if you might need a pro to guide our little newbie here.”
The smile on Gloria’s face was as fake as her tits, but before I could call her out for it, Demi surprised me by speaking up.
“That was so thoughtful of you, Gloria. Thank you, but these two gentlemen have my head spinning with tips as it is. I’m not sure I could handle another opinion.”
Demi smiled sweetly, but I could hear the quiet fuck off to Gloria in her tone. I liked it.
I might’ve found her working in a diner, but it was clear to me that she came from money. She was familiar with proper place settings, gushed about the fine fabrics we dressed her in, and voiced her thoughts on the designer tailoring we set her up with. All things considered, it broadcasted her good breeding and elite status.
The more I got to know her, the more perfect I was sure she was. A beautiful woman who didn’t care about my money because she had her own? Fuck, yeah.
Not to mention that her personality also suited me. She was smart, amusing, and an excellent judge of character, as the quiet, but effective scene with Gloria had proven.
“Yo, my man,” Adam bellowed, interrupting my thoughts and drawing me out of my reverie. “Those the pics of our new girl?”
“She’s not our anything,” I told him, thankfully biting back the way I already thought of her as mine.
Adam looked surprised at my reaction for a split second, then shrugged. “Whatever, man. Are those the prints of the new face of the agency?”
I wanted to keep Demi’s pictures all to myself, but that wasn’t an option since I’d informed everyone who would listen that I’d found our new poster girl. Grudgingly, I slid the pictures to Adam, then watched as his eyes bugged out.
He smirked, staring at Demi’s prints like he’d like to take one to the bathroom with him. It took everything I had in me not to yank them away from him and rip his eyes from his head for having seen them.
“You’ve done it again, bro. She’s beautiful.” Adam dragged his eyes from the pictures to me. “You tapped that yet?”
The amusement in his expression pissed me off. “No.” Not yet.
“So, she’s fair game then?” He arched an eyebrow at me.
“I have no doubt she’d have her fair share of objections to being called game,” I said, fisting my hands at my sides.
Adam smirked and made himself comfortable on one of the couches in my office, popping a foot on his knee. “Then let’s make sure she never finds out.”
I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair. I needed to not be having this conversation, so I steered it in a different direction. “Nancie went on a date last Saturday.”
Adam’s eyes widened, amusement lighting them up as he adjusted so that his elbows were on his knees. “What did you do with the body?”
“Nothing, the little shit lives,” I told him with shit-eating grin.
He let out a low chuckle. “Well done on the self-control. How did it go?”
“Thanks but let’s not go breaking out the champagne just yet. The next time he steps foot in my house might not go so well. As for how it went, I don’t really know. She was pissed at me when she left, and she’s hardly spoken ten words to me since.”
“Good old teenage silent treatment already?” Adam asked, whistling low. “Damn, it’s hard to believe she’s old enough for that already.”
“I know, it sucks,” I lamented, dragging a hand through my hair. “How the hell am I supposed to deal with it?”
“Fuck if I know,” he said. “Maybe try talking to her?”
“I did,” I told him. “Get this. She told me to, ‘butt out and go back to being distracted by work and my gold digging dates.’ She said her boyfriend wasn’t like that and if I couldn’t accept it, then she didn’t want to talk to me.”
Adam whistled again, shaking his head. “Ouch. When did she grow that mouth?”
“Last couple of months, it’s been getting worse. She’s becoming more like her mother every day.”
Nancie made me miss my sister so damn much sometimes. It was like something was physically missing from my life. I did my best not to think about it, but sometimes, it all came back and crashed down on me. Watching Nancie grow up these days brought those feelings to the surface a lot more often.
“What are you going to do about it?” he asked.
“Fuck if I know,” I said, repeating his words from earlier back to him. “I figure I’ll start by buying her a dress for prom. She mentioned it on Tuesday. Maybe that’ll win me back some points.”
“Nice.” Adam winked and rolled his eyes. “Throw some money at the problem. That’ll solve it.”
“You have any better ideas?” I was half hoping that he would come up with some kind of insight since he was four years older than me, but he didn’t.
“Not a one.” He laughed and shook his head. “She’s a chick. Buy any chick a dress, and they love you. Isn’t that how it goes?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking, but I’m not sure that’s going to be enough this time. Besides, where does one even go to buy a goddamn prom dress?”
A light knock sounded at my door.
Adam and I both slid our game faces on, the easygoing atmosphere evaporating immediately as I ca
lled out, “Come in.”
Demi’s beautiful face appeared when the door swung open. “Oh, uh, hi.”
Adam sat up a little straighter, a smirk replacing his serious expression. “Hi, you must be Demi. Your proofs are phenomenal.”
Demi had pulled her hair into a loose bun on top of her head, allowing me to see the tips of her ears burning at Adam’s words.
“Way to make her uncomfortable,” I told him, then turned my eyes back on her. “Come on in, and shut the door behind you.”
She did, stepping over the threshold wearing a deep purple sundress that accentuated her eyes. I had the sudden urge to kick Adam out, tear off the dress, and fuck her bent over my desk, but I pushed it down.
“Have you met Adam yet?” I asked her.
“No,” she answered softly.
Adam strode over to her and held out his hand. “Adam Campbell. Second in command.”
“Demi Fowler,” she said, placing her hand in Adam’s. I eyed the spot where their skin connected and felt an unfamiliar frisson of jealousy shoot through my body.
Adam made it worse by bringing her hand to his lips instead of shaking it. “It’s nice to officially meet the new face of the agency. We should go out for a drink sometime and talk strategy.”
Demi flushed a deep shade of red. Adam had been my best friend for two decades, but if he didn’t let go of her in two seconds, his head might no longer be attached to his shoulders.
I tensed as I waited for her reply. Shit, what the hell was going on with me? I never felt any sense of possessiveness over a model, much less an attachment to her. The feelings coursing through my veins were making me seriously uncomfortable.
Demi glanced at me, then pulled her hand from Adam’s, deflecting with that skilled grace I was looking forward to seeing more of. “Barrett and I have talked it over, but if you two want to go for drinks, just let me know when.”
I breathed a sigh that shouldn’t have been relief, but it was. “What can I do for you today?”
