"Camila I hate to do this, but due to your lack of recent public appearance and the fact that you're bringing in bad PR, we're going to have to let you go," Margo tells me as she pulls out a binder with all my work it. She lays it on her desk and looks over her glasses at me, waiting for a reaction.
"Margo, please tell me how it's my fault that Evan has sent a witch hunt out for me and I'm getting death threats every time I leave my apartment?" I question, anger slowly building inside of me. My ex, Evan, is a famous musician. Me? A now ex model for every agency and company I've ever worked with. When Evan saw photos of me talking with a guy after we broke up he lost it. We had been together for 5 years, but the simple fact that I was talking to someone a month after he ended things sent him over the edge.
"Well Camila, it's you're fault that you didn't listen to him. Didn't Evan warn you? Why didn't you listen?" Margo smirks at me, knowing exactly what she was doing. Riling me up so she could call security on me and get me kicked out for good. I take a deep breath and look her in the eyes.
"I understand. Thank you for having me here for the past 5 years," I say, scooting my chair out. My blood is boiling. I need an escape. I don't even wait for Margo's response as I walk out of her office, letting the door slam shut behind me.
The Miami sun beat down once I made it outside. My agency was based in Miami so at 16 I moved to Miami with Evan. Now I have no one in the United States, everyone I love lives in the UK still. I toss my portfolio into a trash can as I walk past it, deciding I'm just done with the modeling industry.
Glares are thrown my way as I push through the crowded streets towards my hotel. Ever since everything with Evan happened, I've been living in a hotel on the strip. My room is cold as I enter, sending shivers up my bare arms. The sun has started to go down and people are starting to flood the streets more, hitting the bars and clubs I guess.
"Fuck it," I mumble out, going to my bags to get a change of clothes. A short black halter dress with a baggy black leather jacket, paired with thigh high boots. The night life is Miami is big with people visiting from everywhere. Living here has honestly sucked. Humidity always ruins my hair, the constant noise, etc. Sometimes I debate moving somewhere quiet, in the middle of nowhere. Disappear and leave everyone guessing where I went.
I check how I look in the bathroom mirror, deciding the makeup I wore earlier was fine. I don't even bother with my hair, just run a brush through it and go on. Phone in hand, I take a deep breath and exit my room. Evan never liked it when I dressed skimpy or slightly revealing. He felt as though I was asking for it every time he touched me when I would have a short dress on. I used to model for Victoria's Secret, but after a year or so Evan got jealous and told me I couldn't do it anymore. He made sure I only did shoots with other women and he had to be there. If my outfit showed more than my knees down, I would get punished in a way. A way I don't like to think about.
I don't even know how I even ended up outside of one of the biggest clubs in the city, but here I was. Showing my ID I get in and make my way to the VIP area. May not be a model anymore but these security guards always let me through. I make my way through VIP seeing a bunch of people I've never seen before. Except one.
"Lily?" I ask, putting a hand on the golfers arm. She turns, her face lighting up.
"Cam!" Lily exclaims as she engulfs me in a hug. Lily and I had done some projects together over the years, seeing her always makes things better. She drags me towards a both where there are a couple of guys.
"Lily, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be golfing?" I ask, seriously confused to find her in a Miami nightclub. She's usually off at tournaments over the weekends.
"I'm here with Alex," she replies, suddenly clicking in my head. The Formula One race was today. She pushes me into a seat, sliding in across from me. "Anyways you should hang out with us tonight. Are you and Evan still together?"
"Oh! No, actually we aren't," I say, looking at my fingers. She cocks her head, urging me to continue. "It's a long story."
She nods, "Well if you want to talk about it, I'm here." I look around the table, seeing a couple faces that I kinda know. Alex, Lando, Carlos, and Charles were the only faces other than Lily's that I could identify. The guy next to me must've realized I've been staring at him, trying to figure out if I know him.
"Hi, I'm Logan Sargeant, I race with Alex at Williams," he says, nodding towards Alex. I nod, slightly reaching my hand out to shake his.
"Camila Prescott, ex model," I introduce myself, my voice lowering so I don't draw attention just incase one of Evans groupies are nearby. I ruffle my hair with my hand as I excuse myself from the table to get myself a drink. I order a shot of vodka, feeling the need to have the warmth drip down my throat. I order a couple more, trying to forget about the days events. The warmth pooling in my stomach warms up my body.
"Woah take it slow," Logan's voice comes from behind me as he approaches the bar. I turn to look at him, seeing him in better lighting. Holy hell he is hot. I chuckle and throw back another as he orders a water and a beer. Contradictory but okay.
"I don't understand the obsession with beer," I say, chuckling. He smiles at me, his dimples showing as he shakes his head.
"Raised on it. Can't say much other than that," he says, taking a seat next to me. He pushes the water towards me, urging me to drink it. I shake my head and push it back towards him. I need to forget the last 5 years as much as I can.
"Drinking for any reason in particular?" I ask him as I readjust myself in my seat. He does a slight nod as he takes a gulp of his beer.
"Yeah. Didn't crash today," he says, chuckling. "You?"
"Forgetting my past," I tell him. He raises his eyebrows in interest. "Last 5 years to be exact."
"Why? I mean you're a popular model, um ex model. People love you," he says, not meeting my eyes. I chuckle at him saying that people love me.
"Not so much anymore. Quite the opposite now," I chuckle out. He cocks his head to the side. "My boyfriend of five years called our relationship quits when he found a younger version of me. Yet the second I was photographed talking to another guy, he lost it. Says I'll come back like I did every other time shit like this has happened. I won't. I can't let myself give into him. He's sent literal witch hunts out for me. His groupies sending me death threats. Could fill a semi truck with them in all honesty. So drinking to forget. That's why I'm here."
He sits quietly for a second, processing my words. "Don't you have anyone here in Miami for you?" I chuckle and shake my head before he continues. "Come with me, come to the Grand Prixs with me. Tomorrow I leave for Monaco. Come with me."
I stifle a laugh, "You want me to go to Monaco with you? We just met Logan and now you're asking me to see the world with you?"
"I mean you said you have no one here, and I'd hate to leave you when you're already all alone," he says. My eyes meet his for the first time since he's joined me at the bar. I search them for any other reason as to why he would ask me to go with him. I sigh, shaking my head and looking away.
"Okay. I'll go with you."
YOU ARE READING
american jesus // LS2
Fanfiction"Come on, Cowboy," I say as I take his hand in mine. My fingers fit perfectly between his callused fingers, as though our hands were made for one another. "I'd go anywhere with you," his voice is soft as we walk out of the paddock. -~-~-~-~-~- In w...
