runway runaway

gucci

brushes and sponges cloud my view, glops of foundation and sparkling bristles dance over my skin. a tangle of arms and hands rush to get me ready for the next show. three or four people push me out the makeup room and into a changing room. designer clothing shoved in my direction as i try to shimmy into a pair of pants. i shake a jacket onto my shoulders and buckle my stilettos.

"dan, i know you're hot but stop checking yourself out. get up there !"

louise and another manager shooed me from backstage and into the spotlights. i walked foot-in-front-of-foot as i waved my hips and let my hands swing beside me. my heels clicked loudly against the runway as i strutted to the end. when i reached the crowd, i waved and spun around on my feet. then returned back stage.

this cycle went on a few more times, back and forth under big white lights.

by the time we were done, my ankles were weak. a strong pounding in my head made me sway as i walked off stage for the last time that night. i fell onto louise as i struggled to kick off the heels i wore.

"here," she said while dropping a few pain meds into my palm.

in my other hand, she placed a glass of water and then put a granola bar on my desk for after.

"you'd ought to be more careful about these things, dan."

"i know, i know. you tell me every time."

"food keeps you alive. so unless you want to die on stage, or worse, lose your fucking job, then for the love of god eat something."

"if i eat too much i'll be nasty and look like a goddamn balloon, then i'll lose ny job anyways. i'm a fucking model, my job is to be pretty."

"look i just don't want you dying on me," she spoke soft now. pulling me into a bone-crushing, yet motherly hug.

︵︵︵︵︵

i sat on a couch in the lounge. my feet propped up while i hummed along to the muffled songs from pj's room.

"dan !" louise yelled as she rushed through the door.

"what ?" i asked, unphased, my eyes still closed.

"open your eyes you rat !" she yelled louder than before.

when i opened my eyes a boy stood in front of me. louise was smiling excitedly and clapping her hands together. the boy looked around my height and had quiffed up black hair. he wore a button up flannel with black skinny jeans.

"what the hell, louise ? who the fuck is walmart over here ?"

"oh don't be rude !"

"well nice to meet you too, gucci." the boy stuck smirked and stuck his hand out.

i stood and shook his hand. his grip was strong and the smile on his face grew wide as i looked at him.

"so dan, this is my friend phil. he's an artist, a few of his pieces art down in that coffee shop that you and chris alway go to."

he waved a small bit and i studied him, a while longer.

"i just thought that you two might hit it off. you're both single, creative. ya' know. just thought it might work." she gave me that desperate look. the one that said 'be nice or else.'

louise gathered up her purse and drink. then, she scurried her way out of the room.

"i'm phil and you're..."

"daniel."