UPDATE 7/19/2012: Hi everyone! It's been, like, a month, I know, and I'm not even close to finishing Chapter 5. Big example of my laziness. I've started badminton classes and I've been hanging out with my friends, got back into my piano lessons, and am doing algebra every week. Busy, busy. But I will DEFINITELY try to finish Chapter 5 and upload it soon, because I owe everyone something.
PS. I have added a photo of the Gucci dress Jen modeled in in this chapter thataway! --->
See y'all later :)
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Hii :)
I had to do more research on clothing today :O
But it's a long chapter this time! Which is really good.
Enjoy :)
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Chapter 4
You know that feeling after you audition for a part in a musical, or apply for your top college, or even just ask for a raise in your allowance? You think, Hey, I probably won’t get it, but I should at least try or Nah, it won’t happen.
So that’s why, as I was sitting in Conference Room F waiting for one of Elite Model Management’s top agents to come out and meet me, I was in complete shock.
The kind of shock where all you’re thinking is, What?
Because what was happening right now was the last thing I’d expected would happen.
“What does it take to make it as a model?”
The lady blinked, unsurprised.
“You’re interested in modeling, miss?”
Suddenly unconfident, I took my hands off the countertop and twined my fingers together. “Yes, I am.”
She gave me a brief nod before picking up the phone next to her and dialing a number.
“Mr. Crawford?”
Wait, where had I heard that name before? Crawford…
My eyes widened as a familiar scene played back in my head.
“Excuse me, young man?”
Torrence and I turned around. He put an arm around me and pulled me closer to him, suspicious. I blushed furiously as my heart rate quickened.
“Sir, have you ever had any experience in modeling?”
Surprised, Torrence shook his head.
The man spoke again. “I believe you have the potential. What is your name?”
“Umm…” Torrence looked at me and I nodded. He turned back to the man. “Torrence Grant,” he said hesitantly.
“Well then, Mr. Grant, if you are interested in a modeling career, call this number.” He handed Torrence a business card. “Ask for Mr. Crawford. Young man, I can make you famous.”
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“Yes, this is Ms. Wilson, from the front desk.” She glanced at me. “Mr. Crawford, I think I have a potential model for you.”
I blinked. Wh-what?
“No, she wasn’t scouted. She just came in and asked what it took to be a model. Yes, I know. But Mr. Crawford, this one is…different. I promise you, she has potential. Okay. Thank you.” Ms. Wilson hung up and faced me.
I stood there, speechless.
“Miss, what is your name?”
“Uh, Jen Williams,” I said uncertainly.
She walked around the front desk to my side and offered me a smile. “Then, Ms. Williams, please follow me.”
She set off and I followed her, still trying to comprehend what was happening. After an elevator ride and about a minute of walking, we reached a room labeled ‘Conference Room F.”
Ms. Wilson escorted me in. “Mr. Crawford will be with you shortly.”
Before I could open my mouth to ask a question, she had already left.
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The first thing I did, sitting on a slick leather chair in the conference room, was dial May’s number.
“May,” I hissed.
“What, are you done already? How did it go?”
“I’m not done yet.”
“Then what are you doing calling me? Where are you?”
“Umm…Conference Room F.”
“And…?”
“I’m waiting for Mr. Crawford.”
“Okay, Jen, who the hell is Mr. Crawford?”
“He’s one of their top agents.”
“Oh my god, Jen.”
“He’s coming down to see if I have what it takes to be a model,” I whispered.
“Jen, do you realize how AMAZING this is?” May exclaimed. “You have a chance to be a model! You have a chance to be famous!”
“I know, but,” I paused. “I’m just…afraid.”
“No one wouldn’t be,” May soothed. “Just keep up your confidence, no matter what happens. ‘Kay?”
I sighed. “Okay.”
“You’ll be all right, hon.”
I was about to reply when the sound of voices reached my ears, getting louder.
“May, I have to go.”
“Don’t forget what I told you. Good luck.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I snapped my cell phone shut just as the door opened.
Instantly, I recognized the man that entered. He was, indeed, the agent that had discovered Torrence. He hadn’t been wrong when he said he could make him famous. This man could make you go somewhere.
I stood up, nervous as ever.
Mr. Crawford smiled and extended a hand to me. I gave him what I hoped was a firm handshake.
Then, he took a step back, an unreadable expression on his face.
Thoughts started going through my mind. Did he not like me? Was he deciding whether I’d be good as a model or not? What if he asked me to leave?
I swallowed nervously.
“Say,” Mr. Crawford said. “Have I ever met you before?”
I froze. I hadn’t expected he would remember me at all.
He leaned closer, studying my face. Intimidated, I resisted the urge to take a step back. Moments passed before I saw a flash of recognition in his eyes. He smiled and clapped his hands together. I nearly jumped, startled.
“You’re that girl who was by Mr. Grant’s side, five years ago!” Mr. Crawford looked particularly gleeful he’d figured out who I was. “You must be Jen, correct?”
I stared at him. “How do you know my name?”
“Mr. Grant used to talk about you all the time, back when he first started out modeling.”
I blushed. “Really?”
Mr. Crawford offered me a warm smile, and it was then I decided I liked this man. He seemed kind.
“You two must be close.”
Used to be, I thought.
“Now,” His face turned serious. “We must get down to business.”
I nodded.
“You know, we often get people who come to the front desk asking to be models.” Mr. Crawford gestured to me. “Much like yourself. However,” he paused. “Ms. Wilson is quick to turn all of them down.” Mr. Crawford gestured for me to sit down, and he took a seat across from me before continuing. He looked me straight in the eyes. “You are a rare case.”
My breath caught.
“Ms. Wilson seemed to feel it was especially important for me to see you today. And I am usually a very busy man. But if you are as special as Ms. Wilson said you were, then you,” he nodded to me, “are very important.”
I swallowed, my throat dry, and gave him a quick nod.
“You wish to model, yes?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Then I hope you wouldn’t mind me making a little call,” Mr. Crawford said, pulling out a phone. “In order to see if you have what a model does.”
A quick call later, he addressed me again.
“We should have a minute or two before she comes down. So, Ms. Williams, do you know what is important for a model to have?”
I knew this. “A good body,” I replied. “Long legs, tall, a slim waist, good skin. The face doesn’t matter as much as long as makeup can be used to make them prettier. A model isn’t necessarily beautiful all the time. It’s the body that matters more.”
His lips turned up in a smile, signifying I’d given a good answer. “You know your information well, Ms. Williams.”
I looked down. “Thank you,” I said shyly.
It seemed as if he was about to ask me more, but then, the door opened and a girl rushed in, carrying some measuring instruments and a box full of what seemed to be clothing. She didn’t seem much older than me, looking to be in her early twenties. She must’ve been an intern or something.
“Hello, Mr. Crawford,” she greeted him with a slight bow of her head. She turned to me. “Hello, miss. Is this our potential model?”
“Yes, she is. Ms. Williams, would you mind standing?”
I stood up and made my way over to the girl. Immediately, she pulled out a roll of measuring tape. “Do you know your height?”
“5 foot 7.”
She confirmed the measurement before jotting it down on a notepad. Then, she slung the tape around my waist. “Slim waist,” she murmured. Its measurements, too, were written down on the notepad.
“Ms. Williams, how old are you?”
“I turned 19 a few months ago.”
“Still a teenager.” The girl smiled. “Do you get acne often? Blackheads, zits…?”
“No, I’ve never gotten acne before.”
She ran a hand over the skin on my arms and legs. “Do you moisturize often?”
“Actually, umm…not really.”
“Wow, naturally smooth and soft skin. That’s really good.” The girl grinned and I smiled back. She studied my face for a while. “You’re very pretty as well. Do you use a lot of makeup?”
“No, hardly any. I’m not wearing any makeup right now.”
“Do you get your hair styled?”
“No, my hair curls naturally this way.”
She crouched down a bit before remarking, “Your legs are quite long as well.” She stood up before jotting a couple more things down on the notepad. Turning to Mr. Crawford, she spoke. “Sir, I have never seen someone like this before. She truly is special, and she goes far beyond what the requirements for being a model are.” The girl picked up her measuring instruments and headed for the door. “I will send in the next girl. Mr. Crawford, take care you don’t let this girl get away.”
She left.
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A new girl, looking older than the last, came in soon, and picked up the clothing box. I then noticed it was marked, “E M M 2012”
“These are some of the popular fashions from this year, which were worn by several models from our agency in recent fashion shows. Mr. Crawford would like to see you model in some outfits. You do not have to do well however, we would just like to see where your level of skill in modeling is at the moment. Please follow me, miss.”
I followed her out the door, aware Mr. Crawford was behind me, before we reached a new room. I stepped in and gasped softly. The room was huge, and stationed in the middle of it was the runway.
I had only dreamed of ever walking on a real runway before, posing as cameras flashed, in a high-fashion outfit and uncomfortable, but extravagant shoes.
She seemed to notice my shock and gave me a little smile. “It really is breathtaking, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It really is.”
The girl hefted the box up higher on her chest. “If you would follow me, please?”
I glanced at Mr. Crawford.
“He’ll wait out here.”
“Oh. Okay.” I walked after her until we reached what I thought was the back of the room. In reality, what was behind the runway’s curtain was another room. The girl put the box down on a table before pulling an outfit out and holding it up.
“This is a Gucci design. You will be posing with it. Would you like help with putting it on?”
“Oh, no, I can do it myself.”
“Okay, then.” She pointed to the room in front of us. “You can change back there, and meet us back on the runway.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
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The room was actually comprised of separate dressing rooms and changing compartments. Needless to say, it was big. Modern fixtures adorned the spaces, and huge posters of models posing hung on the walls. There were chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, though they weren’t as large as the ones in the lobby. The changing compartments even had leather seats.
I hung the Gucci outfit on one of the hooks, before taking a step back to look at it.
It was beautiful.
The dress was a taffeta cocktail dress; the skirt was pink silk with a big bow on the side and what looked just like an ordinary black tank on top. It was simple, but fabulous. I loved it. The shoes were black heels that zipped up to your ankles. They were pretty tall. I could stand it, though. I’d practiced walking in high heels before.
After putting on the other accessories that had been given to me, I checked myself out in the mirror. I gasped softly.
The dress, amazing enough as it was already, was a perfect fit. It made my waist look incredibly small, my hips curvy, and thankfully, the top wasn’t too revealing. The skirt ended a bit above my knees, not too long, and not too short. The shoes weren’t as uncomfortable as they looked. Okay, maybe they were, but they fit the dress nicely and made my legs look longer than they already were.
Everything was just…amazing.
I tried to pinch myself to see if it was all a dream. Maybe I was still in bed having the best damn dream of my life and maybe all of this wasn’t happening.
But it was.
All.
This.
Was.
Happening.
To.
Me.
I wiped a happy tear away as I realized my dreams were finally becoming true, everything I had ever wanted, everything I had ever wished for.
Oh my god.
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Walking out onto the runway was as exhilarating as I thought it would be. When Mr. Crawford asked me to walk down the runway and do a few poses, I was a bit embarrassed. But for the sake of my dream, I complied.
I pretended it was my closet, pretended no one else was there, and strutted down the runway like nobody’s business. It was better than I could have ever imagined.
Supposedly, I had done well, considering I had never modeled before.
I was trying on different outfits and taking walks down the runway. Soon, I was enjoying it – all the anxiety I had felt before was vanishing.
Eventually, we were finished.
“Ms. Williams, you have never modeled before?”
“Never.”
“You’re quite a natural at it.” Mr. Crawford snapped his fingers. “Maria.”
So that was her name.
Maria hurried over, carrying the box of clothing. Why did she still have it?
Mr. Crawford took the box from her before handing it to me. “Umm, do you want me to help put it away…?”
He looked surprised. “Oh, no. I want you to keep it.”
I gawked at him. “K-keep it?” I stammered. “B-but -”
“Ms. Williams,” he interrupted. It silenced me instantly.
And then, he smiled. “What’s wrong with a kind gesture towards our newest model?”
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I think this might be a 6-pager. It was over 8 pages on Word, and actually, pretty easy to write.
Not much else to say. Leave a comment/feedback or a vote if you like this story.
Rainbows be comin' your way
~Sarah