The Taste of Silver | Fortune's Fool #2

06 | an amplified stupor

[a n a m p l i f i e d s t u p o r ]

♥ gabriel ♥

"NOW TURN RIGHT a little. Gorgeous."

Flash.

"Get a little closer. Move your head to the right a tad. Yes, that's it. Lovely."

Flash. Flash.

"Now both of you look directly at the camera. I want to see power. A little more intense stare."

Flash. Flash. Flash.

"And... let's call it a wrap. Great work both of you. We'll have a ten-minute break and then get you in the next outfit. It's solo shoots next."

Nodding at the group of photographers and stylists before me, I let go of the female model I'd been working with whose wistful eyes I could still feel on me and got changed. I didn't have much time for women nowadays. Sure, there were probably good ones out there but I wasn't about to set myself up for ruination.

It had taken the carpet being ripped from my feet for me to realise that it was a lot better investing that time into myself.

It was Saturday morning and I'd just finished a photo shoot for a new fragrance that was set to be launched soon. I hadn't spoken to the stylists that had been working with me today but I was courteous enough to thank them for their effort before allowing them to begin working on my hair again.

Sitting on the large chair, I gazed at the mirror in front of me allowing everyone around me to slowly fade out of my awareness. My face was becoming gaunter and gaunter by the day, highlighting my cheekbones and jawline, and although it worried those around me, the modelling industry seemed to fucking love it.

I'd begun getting a lot more jobs recently with a few bigger ones lined up for next month including a few fashion weeks with one in New York and lots more shoots, for instance, Armani and Tommy Hilfiger.

That meant more money which meant buying more things that made me look even sharper. It was a tedious cycle that I cared too little about to pull myself out of.

It's not the cycle you don't care about. It's yoursel-

My phone vibrated on the dresser table and I lifted it to check who it was from.

Mum.

Ignoring the slight sting that reverberated at her name, I put it back on the table. A mere second later, it vibrated again with her another message from her.

At first, I instead focused on the man who was perming my hair, carefully inspecting as he wrapped strands of the dark brown tendrils around and around. He looked incredibly young although I was sure that he couldn't have been; it was more likely that he was 25 with a babyface.

But a few minutes I gave in to the itch on my fingertips which questioned what she wanted, rapidly scrolling down to the last message she sent me.

Curiosity meant trouble alas I had always been a mere fool for it and it had me in chains on my bloody knees.

'It's Dad. His heart has been playing up badly again. We've taken him to the Brighton Hospital but I don't know what's going on. Please phone me back when you can. '

At that moment it felt as if my heart seemed to stop a little in my chest, let alone his. My jaw tensed as I stiffened upright one my chair, mind ticking.

It had been two months since I had last spoken to them, not because I was avoiding them but because we simply both knew there was nothing to talk about.