“I mean, I thought I was going to vomit, but then I saw him watching me and the whole performance suddenly made sense. Like thinking of him as the audience was what I needed to make myself cut loose. It’s hard to explain.” I take a deep sip of my drink. “But the best part is that he wants to give me more work. So I really owe you one for making me go.”
Fully expecting her to be overjoyed, I’m surprised when her face is wary. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I didn’t say anything because you really needed the work, but I’ve heard things about him. I’ve heard that he’s a bit cold and demanding and he can be hard to work for. There are rumors about why his last favorite quit. I don’t know, maybe he did something that was over the line.”
“You could have said something last night if you didn’t think it was a good idea.”
She sighs. “Why would I do that? You’re broke and about to be living in my apartment. You needed the money. I’m just saying to be careful. Things can be too good to be true.”
“I will admit that he’s really intense,” I say, remembering our conversation in the little closet, “but I’m going to give it a shot. I’m not signing a contract with him or anything so it’s not like I can’t walk away if I need to. Plus, so far he hasn’t done anything I wouldn’t expect from a highly driven man who works in fashion.”
Fleece chokes on a laugh and I follow suit. “Well,” she says, “I’m happy you have work. Free drinks all night in celebration.”
“Barbara is going to kill you,” I say, raising my eyebrows.
She nods to someone trying to get her attention down the bar. “Barbara better worship the fucking ground I walk on after all I’ve done for her this week. I think I’ll risk giving my best friend a few celebratory drinks.”
She hurries away, and I turn in my chair and lean back against the wall. During the exhibition I felt like I had nothing but energy. Now I feel like I could crawl into bed and sleep for a week. But at least I’ll be able to do that with money in my bank account. That’s a new feeling.
I’m zoning out, almost ready to bail and go home to sleep, when Fleece makes her way back over to me. “By the way, you know you’re basically going to be a celebrity now, right?”
Laughing, I roll my eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”
She shakes her head, “I know you’re new to this, but in the fashion world, Xellum Studios is it. Even though his stuff is really out there when he does shows, his designs are gorgeous and everyone loves them. He’s a huge deal.”
“I’m guessing you also didn’t tell me this so I wouldn’t freak out.”
“Maybe,” she grins. “I’m guessing you haven’t checked your social media pages today, have you?”
“No.” I grab my phone up the bar and open Twitter. I’ve always been a lurker on Twitter; following my favorite celebrities and friends. The only followers I had were my handful of friends. Tonight, I have over four thousand followers. The sight nearly makes me spit out my drink. “What the fuck? How did they even find me?”
“Welcome to the age of the internet. That transformation video is already going viral. You’ll have way more followers in the morning. Check your Instagram.”
I do, and there’s an even bigger jump. 6000 followers. “This is insane.”
“Absolutely, but use it. The more popular you are, the more money they’ll have to pay you,” she says with a wink.
There are no words for this, so I just take a sip of my drink.
“Oh,” she continues, “you may want to update those profiles to say who you are. Not just ‘retail associate,’ since you’re clearly not that anymore.”
“Right.”
I feel a little dizzy. If I had known this would change my life completely, would I have done it? Am I going to regret it later? Right now I don’t, but who knows in the future.
“I know that look,” says Fleece. “You’re starting to second guess yourself.”
“What if you’re right?” I ask her. “What if it is a bad idea?”
She shakes her head. “It was stupid of me to even bring that up. It’s not a bad idea. You’re going to make more money than you’ve ever made in your life and work with one of the most talented designers on the planet. Don’t worry, I’m going to be right here while you do it. Now drink your damn drink while I make you another one.”
I raise my glass. “Yes, ma’am.”
5
Walking in to this art gallery was the closest thing I’ve ever really felt to being a celebrity, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Sure, my social media accounts have blown up in the past couple of weeks, but people still don’t recognize me on the street. But the crowd waiting to get into the gallery where Andrew and his friend Heather are putting on a collaborative show? Those people know me. They’re asking for autographs and taking pictures and I feel anxiety rising up in my chest when May and a giant security guard fish me from the crowd and drag me inside.
“Do you ever get used to that sort of thing?”
She grins. “Never.”
“Perfect.” I supposed I’ll have to get used to it if I want to keep doing this though, and for now, I want to. So I have to suck it up and deal, even though the thought of any of those people just coming to see me makes me kind of want to pass out.
She starts walking towards the back of the gallery. “This way to hair and make-up.”
I look around as we cross the gallery. There’s definitely an aquatic theme going on with the art and the lights, everything drenched in teal and blue. Unlike the last exhibition, which was for an already existing Xellum line, both the art and Andrew’s new line of bathing suits are debuting tonight. I’m not the only model this time—which is a relief—but I still think he has something special planned.
Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been down to his studio so they could take measurements of my entire body. Now that I’m working with him, they’ll make the designs to fit me. Even though I don’t get to keep them, it feels amazing putting on clothes I know are going to fit perfectly. I’ve only seen Andrew in passing, but the spark between us is there. I can feel it.
Walking into the back room, he’s there. He smiles when he sees me, but it’s a professional smile, not at all like the sultry little ones I catch him sending my way. “I’m glad you’re here. Your make-up is the most complicated, and we need to get started, plus I want to see the final look. Trish,” he calls over his shoulder as he guides me to a chair.
The same make-up artist from last time comes over smiling. Andrew points to my cheekbones. “Masque make-up, heavy blues and greens, think mermaid. Lips need to match. Hair loose and as smooth as you can possibly get it.”
I look up at him. “A ‘hello’ would be nice.”
He stops for a second, “Hello. Find me as soon as you’re finished. We have a lot to do.”
“Wow,” I say quietly as he hurries away.
Trish laughs softly, “Don’t take it personally. That’s just how he is, especially on show days. He’s got a lot on his mind and he knows what he wants.”
We fall into conversation while she does my make-up, and I find myself relaxing. Trish has a very musical voice and it’s nice to hear her speak. It’s also nice to get a little more insight into the mysterious Mr. Xellum. I like hearing stories about him, like the time he got drunk and thought that lime green disco pants were a good idea, or how he made sure that a sick seamstress got all the rest she needed even though it was fashion week. Sure, she tells me, he’s a hard ass, and he errs on the cold side, but he’s a good guy.
When she’s finished and I look in the mirror, I don’t even recognize myself. I’m a sea creature come to life, my face patterned with gentle ripples and a blend of colors so seamless you would never know it’s not my skin. My hair is shiny, and seems darker than normal as it catches the light. “I think you’re a miracle worker.”
Trish laughs, “If I were a miracle worker I’d be able to
make everyone’s wrinkles and grays go away.”
“Okay, temporary miracle worker then.”
“That, I’ll take. But you may not think I’m such a miracle worker when you have to wash it off later.”
I give her a wink. “I’ll be sure to curse your name plenty.”