supra model • rintarou suna

uncertainty II

"There you are!" A familiar voice called, all while they gripped the side of your arm.

You turned your head to face Alisa, who had a clipboard in her left hand. Her right hand around your forearm was tight, dragging you in the opposite direction of where you were previously walking to.

"I assigned you a car to model for," Alisa mentioned, finally letting go of your arm. The both of you walked back to the agency tent, maneuvering through several other import models getting ready for their own photoshoots.

"Great," you exhaled out, a smirk resting on your lips. Both of your hands rested on the side of your hips, sheer confidence running through your veins. "Where is it?"

Alisa turned around and scanned the entire parking lot, taking her time to search for the specific car and owner. Aimlessly, she pointed in a general direction to the back corner of the car meet. Through the clouds of smoke, you could see sleek black cars, dark as the night.

"You're modeling for Enigma's MK4 Supra of the Inarizaki Bois," Alisa read off the clipboard with a smile on her face. "Supras are hot on the market right now, and they wanted his car on the next front cover of the magazine. It was surprisingly easy to convince him, so this could be your chance to rise up the model ranks again."

Suddenly, the confidence you exuded earlier began to deplete from your body fast. Enigma was the man you saw a while ago that gave you ill vibes, reeking of red flags. He was someone you did not want to be paired with tonight. In fact, he was the last person you wanted to model for, maybe second to that one twin with the golden yellow hair.

"Listen, Alisa..." your voice became hesitant as you swallowed down your words, not knowing how to tell her you had an intuition about Enigma. "Can I work with someone... different?"

"What do you mean?" Alisa's left eyebrow cocked up, knowing you never turned down a modeling opportunity to be on the front cover of the next magazine issue. "He isn't any different from the other racers."

"Nah, you don't understand. I have a bad feeling about that guy." You mumbled while rubbing your left arm, looking straight at Alisa with an unsettling expression on your face.

"What, are you getting nervous?" She began to laugh loudly, covering her mouth with her free hand. Her eyes widened with a gleam in her pupil, snickers coming out from under her breath. "Are you really going to chicken out on this? You asked me to give you the best gig I could. This is it."

You looked down at the ground while placing your lips to the side, hands within the pockets of your high-rise black denim booty shorts. "I'm just uncertain."

"You know he requested for you, right?" Alisa cocked her left eyebrow up, staring at you with a stern expression.

Your interest piqued. "He did? How the fuck does he know me?"

"I don't know. You're kind of notorious for punching that one shitty photographer in the face a few years ago, maybe from that?" Alisa reminisced, slightly looking up at the street light above you to recall the memory.

Two years ago, right before your popularity began to decline amongst the car community, your photographer for one of your gigs back in Australia was trying to inappropriately touch you in places you did not want to be touched. It led to you punching him in the face, something usually a model wouldn't do.

It was a miracle that your agency didn't fire you after that incident because they concluded it was sexual harassment from the photographer, but it led to a controversy amongst the car community, bringing up your consistently rude attitude and your stubborn work ethic.

"That fucking creep had it coming," you muttered, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, he did deserve it, didn't he." Alisa raised one eyebrow as she shifted her eyes to the clipboard in front of her, clicking the pen in her right hand. "But you know the company policies on requests from clients. We always have to accept them out of good faith."