The Luck of the Draw

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"This champagne tastes nasty!" Lucy held the drink away from her like it was contagious. "Ugh. Why would the agency serve this crap?" Her pretty button nose crinkled up, making her look adorable. 

"Hey, watch your mouth. Aren't you supposed to be a lady?" Marcus pushed a hand through his jet black curls, giving a wink to some attractive redhead in the crowd around you. 

"Pfft. A lady tells the truth, and she doesn't take any shit." Lucy shoved the champagne flute into Marcus' hands and he nearly fumbled it. 

"Watch it!" He hissed at her. 

You couldn't help but laugh. Every day these two brightened up the sometimes dull work of the agency. Even though the entire building was always full of gorgeous people in shimmering outfits, sometimes it got to be a little too much. But Lucy and Marcus never let the fame go to their heads. They were down to earth, and that's why you got along so well with them. 

Both of them turn to you, and they can't help but smile. "What's so funny, short stuff?" Lucy ribs you gently. 

"I am NOT short. For the last time, you are just an amazon!" The insult never fails to annoy you. Models weren't supposed to be short. They were tall and thin and beautiful. 

Lucy rolls her eyes, and then perks up. "Look! They're going to do the draw! Oh, I hope I get chosen." 

Marcus huffs at her, and she manages to look slightly sheepish. "I mean... I hope...one of us gets it?"

You had all put your names in, though you weren't expecting anything of it. The agency's "luck of the year" draw was always full of competition and rumor had it that the senior models got extra entries. 

But Marcus had dared you and there really wasn't anything you could lose. You might be disappointed but... that's what friends were for. To cheer you up. You lay your head against Marcus' shoulder, smelling the gentle after shave he used that morning. 

"Well, I hope that you win Lucy." You smile up at her. "You'd rock whatever photo shoot they give you with that A+ bod." 

Lucy grins and tosses her blonde locks dramatically. "I would. But so would you. You've come a long way since you joined the agency. Remember when they put you in that acting class?"

A blush spreads over your face. Ohgod. Not the acting class again. "How was I supposed to know how you pronounce 'quinoa'? I eat regular food!" 

Marcus busts out laughing and Lucy follows suit. You lift a fist in mock anger, but there's no fire behind it. Lucy was right. You had royally botched that class up. That's why you'd spent the next week avoiding everyone from the class until Lucy had knocked some sense into you. She'd taken you under her wing and taught you everything she knew. 

Just like Marcus had taught you how to dress better. As a model wannabe, you'd learned what you could from home and internet tutorials. There hadn't been a beauty vlogger you weren't subscribed to. But Marcus had shown you the finer points of what had become your own personal style. 

The key was how it made you feel. When you thought you were prettier, you walked taller, more confident. Marcus had helped show you the way. 

You love these goofballs. 

A hush falls over the crowd around you, and lights turn on, focusing on a small stage near the back of the room. Out walks your agency director, her smart business suit elegantly understated. She wore class like Lucy wore daisy dukes; naturally. 

Though she looked delicate, with a petite figure and a pale complexion, the director was shrewd and calculating. She takes the microphone offered to her and addresses everyone in the party room. 

"Thank you all for coming tonight. It's been a great year for our agency, with many new opportunities arising and lots of fresh new faces ready to take the world by storm. All of this wouldn't be possible without your hard work and dedication to growing." 

A cheer erupts and she waits for you all to quiet. "But there's one more thing that you need in this industry to survive: luck. That's what the luck of the year draw is all about. We've had hundreds of you submit your names to the pot, and I'm sure you're eager to see whose got the best luck." She gives a sly wink and four men bring a large raffle cage onto the stage.

"Before we draw, I wanted to tell you that this year, we've had a special prize for the luckiest. As you know, you'll win a full fashion spread in "Lucky Fashion" magazine. This year, you'll be sharing that spread with someone who is sure to boost your fame! Come on out."

The curtain behind the stage shifts, and out steps the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. His beautiful hair is kept long, falling in soft locks around his face and shoulders. His eyes are as blue as the summer sky, and he is tanned from the sun. Your heart stops beating for a moment. 

He takes the microphone from the director and gives the crowd a wink. "It's my pleasure to see you tonight, my ladies and gentlemen. I look forward to working with the winner." Ren Jinguji, male model and musician, hands the microphone back to the director. 

"I won't keep you waiting. Let's see who's the luckiest!" The cage is spun, and the crowd goes crazy. Marcus helps keep you from being pushed over in Lucy's enthusiasm. You can't help but be swept up in the excitement. You let out a whoop of joy.

The director snags a single slip of paper from the cage. All noise stops. She smiles as she unfolds it...and reads your name. 

Everyone turns to look at you. Even Ren. 

His eyes sear into your skin, and you are frozen in spot. Lucy hisses at you. "What are you doing? GO TO HIM."

Marcus helps you through the crowd and up onto the stage before he steps back. Face to face with Ren, you can't help but blush as the crowd cheers for you.

"H-hello!" 

He smiles and takes your hand, lifting it to his lips. "Hello." You swear the heater is on in the room, because everything is ten degrees warmer. 

The director nods to you. "We'll get you details soon. For now, why don't you enjoy the rest of the party?" She shoos you off the stage and addresses the room again. "To a new year of new beginnings!" 

Lucy grabs you and drags you onto the dance floor, but you are distracted. You can still feel his eyes on you. You feel him watching you until he leaves the party, speaking with the director all the way. 

 

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