I take in my tired pale reflection and sigh again as Janetta fusses around out in the lounge laying out
my clothes. She offered to come with me to my show after she found me crying and ended up telling
her why I was so upset. She tried to defend him, of course she would, as she adores the very ground
he walks on, much like most people who know him. I block her out. Just so low, deflated, and empty.
It feels like going to graduation and having none of your loved ones show up for you. Or a birthday
bash where your best friend doesn’t bother to show face.
I told her it was okay, I would rather just face this alone, get it done and come home and avoid the after
party. Biggest moment in my year just became something I have to endure and wish I didn’t have to go
at all. I want it to be over and done with, so I can forget it all.
There’s a knock on the door, even though it’s only eight am and I look around in confusion from my
open bedroom door. Janetta toddles up towards the door as I wait with a held breath and slowly
emerge to see who the hell would be here at this time. It’s not like we know anyone who would
randomly pop by at any hour.
She opens the door to reveal a huge bunch of white roses and that anger spikes again. The rage I
have still brewing for my brown eyed prick of a boyfriend comes back with fury.
Arry and his trademark apology that he should know will never work on me, he can go fuck himself for
sure. These flowers will go the same way the ones he tried to give me two years ago will go… Right out
the god damn window. I hate that he’s trying to redeem himself in this way. Did he really learn nothing
from that one time, and here I thought he was a guy who learned a lesson and heeded it!
White flowers? Really? White flag of idiocy.
She goes and takes the bunch of flowers from the delivery man without looking my way and reveals a
sight that literally shocks me to the core.
“Hey, hey, beautiful lady.” Christian stands in my doorway with a massive grin and even bigger present
between his ankles all wrapped up in silver paper. He’s like a rainbow on a grey cloudy day and I’m
overwhelmed with the squeal that comes out of me involuntarily. On my feet fast and racing to him to
throw myself into the best hug ever.
“How the… ??? Where did??” I’m speechless, unsure how the hell he got here if Arrick could not get a
flight from New York and I’m suddenly crazily over suspicious as I lean back while hanging around his
neck.
“Your beloved called me to find out if I was in London yet… Only got in there last night and had to rush
to get a flight over here… He didn’t have to bribe me much, but I did make him suffer. What an ass
missing your big day and I told him that.” Christian’s my sunny warm day after a shitty cold winter and I
have to stifle the sob of relief building up and ready to consume me.
I throw myself back at him, wrapping him up in a much-needed second hug and immediately drop wet
tears on my cheek with the sheer happiness at seeing him. That someone I love is here to hold my
hand in this. Someone who really matters to me and understands the importance of this day.
“Oh my god, I’m crazy happy that you are here.” I squeeze him and can’t help the little sobs that
escape me as I do. Christian crushing me half to death with his man arms that he has clearly been
working out.
“Well, you’re lucky school had us all over to London for the weekend. I have to head back after your
show, but I couldn’t leave you flying solo. Arrick paid for my flights and asked me to bring you this. My
little Diva.” He picks up the box at his feet and hands it to me, but I glare at it, take it slowly and then
walk away and lay it on the couch without opening it.
“He can go fuck himself.” I repeat sternly, even though he sent me one of my best friends, it doesn’t
excuse his lack of presence; despite being overjoyed that Chris is here, I still wish it was Arry.
It should have been Arrick. I can’t forgive that right now.
“Ouch, so I guess you are still blocking his calls?” Christian eyes me warily and watches me from the
door. Janetta has now pulled him inside so she can close it and wanders off to the kitchen with the
flowers in hand.
“Are they from you or him?” I ask Chris pointedly and watch him visibly turn from smiling cheekily to a
serious frown.
“If I say ‘him’ are you going to behead them?” He looks suddenly afraid for the life of the roses and in a
second it answers me.
“Janetta, please take them to your own apartment; I don’t want them.” I nod at her as she looks from
me to Christian, holds her tongue and nods as she makes her way to the front door instead, to relive
my presence of them immediately.
“Babes, come on, Arry is totally gutted he can’t be here. All he has done is text me like a stalker every
half hour to make sure I picked them up and your little gift and was heading here. He’s going crazy over
this, and that you won’t talk to him. You know how easily his life falls to shit when his Princess blanks
him.” Christian long ago landed in the love side of Arry and has had split loyalty ever since. I glare
coolly at him and shake my head, not backing down in how hurt and angry I still am at him. He knew
what this meant, he promised me. Gifts are Arrick’s fall back for when he fucks up and even though it
works for various dumb Carrero decisions; not this time, not with this.
“Don’t! If you want to live, then that name is a dirty word today and I do not want to hear it.” I move to
my room again to finish getting ready. Even though I’m dressed, I need to put on a ton of make up to
hide my awful pallor and dark circles caused by tossing and turning all night.
“I said he could call my cell and I would convince you to…”
“Not a chance. I mean it. STOP! My mind is made up, he’s in the doghouse and I don’t want to speak to
him or think about him until after my show is done.” My nerves are stretched so far, they may snap
again, and my head is crazily turned inside out. I’m sick, strung out and just not able to cope with the
addition of any Arrick Carrero chat about now. His groveling would make me a hundred times worse.
My head has one focus. Getting through this show without some sort of emotional breakdown and
coming home to deal with my anger and upset over my dickhead boyfriend who I presume is not
coming home anytime soon. When Christian leaves to get his flight back to London, then I will deal with
Arry. I know I told him not to come back, but part of me hoped that he would still make the effort. That
he would still show up.
Stupid girl.
“Well, you know all flights today got grounded from New York, too, right? Bad weather! He did say there
was a good chance he wouldn’t be able to come and get back in time if he couldn’t get a flight today
before dinner. He has some boring thing going on that’s tying him up.” Christian carries on innocently
and it pretty much answers my question. I shake my head, don’t answer even though it’s another stab
to the heart and frown at him coldly, giving him a final warning.
Arrick isn’t coming back if he still needs to be there, even if I’m ghosting him and refusing to talk. I know
him. He will want to come here, but if he has commitments in the form of a meeting or something
Carrero related, he’ll stay and hope to come back right after to fix this. His need to do the right thing
and not let his family down in business matters will override his need to drop it all and rush back to me.
He knows deep down that with us, the damage is done, and he can’t change that. He cannot fix
missing my show and leaving me alone, even if he did send a stand in. He will stay, do what needs to
be done then come home with every tool in his arsenal to grovel and try to make this right. Which I
doubt he can. I hate knowing him this well.
I am so pissed at him.
“Shouldn’t we already be there. Christian eyes me over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirror as I
quickly apply my war paint and frown harder. Extra concealer on my blotchy tear stained pallor.
“No. Models and beauty teams were in at six, we don’t need to go until nine, as the show starts at ten…
I just need to do this, and we’ll go. My driver is taking us today instead of walking it. It’s not far, but in
this weather, I would look like a drowned rat and I can’t deal with a walk today.”
“Don’t hate him, Sophs… The guy is devastated that he’s missing this and asked me to film the entire
thing on my cell.” Christian is now frowning, pleading puppy eyes honed on mine as I regard him coolly.
That blonde hair flopping over one gorgeous blue eye that is fluttering dramatically. Christian is still a
beautiful looking boy, but he seems to be adopting a very non-gender style nowadays and sporting
some false lashes and pink lips to go with his Louis Vuitton black suit and pink bag.
“Don’t bother… it’s being filmed for an internet channel. If he really wanted to see it, he would be here.”
I sound harsh, cold, indifferent, even though inside I’m still bleeding and breaking but I have more
important things to think about.
***
“Oh my god, this is awesome… I cannot wait until mine in a month!!” Christian is standing in the
curtains to the main stage, peeking out excitedly, bouncing on his toes, as my flow of models walk in
and out, tended to by the dressers. I’m tweaking them the second they walk out to the pre-stage area,
adjusting them, running a dust wand over and smoothing them out before okaying them. A pin cushion
on my wrist and a mouthful of bobby pins for last second tailoring on the figures of the models who are
sashaying in an orderly line out onto the raised catwalk. Music blaring from back here and the muffled
voice of the commentator as he occasionally talks over it.
The nerves are still here but being focused on task, crazily busy and dealing with what I am doing so it
all runs smoothly, I’ve not got a second to even think or feel anything much. My head is blank to
everything but my designs and my responsibilities to pull my slot off without a hitch.
I realize that if Arry was here he would have been pointless anyway, standing pretty much where
Christian is with a lot less enthusiasm and watching my string of outfits go out and be showcased. He’s
supportive, but he doesn’t have the same love of fashion as I do, or Christian does. At best, Arry is a
great dresser, he likes to look good, but he isn’t that interested in clothes in general or shopping for
them and most of the time I pick his clothes for him nowadays. I guess part of me kind of is letting up
on him a little about his lack of absence, but I’m still hurt that he let me down. He broke a promise,
something he rarely does and when I add it on top of the shit few months we have been having
together, it feels bigger than life.
I tuck and pleat in the waist of the next model; she’s a huge six foot in heels and crazily thin with almost
milk white skin and I kind of wonder at the beauty industry standard of model. To me she is skeletal and
pale and not all that beautiful; too many harsh bones sticking out and my clothes would look a hell of a
lot better on some real curves and real women. I never made them to hang on corpses.
“Sophie!!!!! … I can see Nadine Hellegar from Runway’s Finest, in the front aisle, she keeps taking
pictures with her cell. She is taking notes. Gurlllll!! I think you’re onto a winner.” Christian is crazily
hyper and excited, and I have to admit that it’s infectious, and I’m really glad he’s here with me. He has
a way of lifting my mood and making me feel less devastated. He was one of my reasons for keeping
upbeat and sane when Arry and I parted ways a couple years ago, and times like this remind me of
how I got through it. Why being here has made me feel so alone this past year. I needed my friends as
much as I need Arry.
I try not to let that little bit of information about Nadine knock me off balance, gawp at how important
her magazine is as I pat my model on the back and nod for her to go. I pin the fabric in place on the
next one, solely just concentrating on getting through this. My insides tying themselves in knots and
thankfully having my mouth full of pins means no one expects a response. I don’t think I could speak if I
wanted to.
Christian is keeping me focused and at least with him here I won’t have to face Claude alone
afterwards. He keeps perusing backstage and watching me from afar. It’s making the hair of my neck
stand on edge and feel uneasy. I don’t get what his newfound interest in me is, but I’m betting it has a
lot to do with the little scene I caught backstage in the storage walkway earlier.
He was arguing with Vivien in French and she tried to hug him, but he pushed her away, said
something harshly and left her standing alone before walking off. She stood sobbing and calling after
him, but he repeated something in a cruel tone and left her there. They never saw me, but it’s been
playing in the back of my mind that maybe they have been sleeping together on the fly. It would explain
her superior attitude towards everyone in class, the way she thinks she’s untouchable. She’s around
twenty-two and he is well into his late forties or early fifties, even if he looks younger. I’m sure it crosses
so many rules in the student teacher contract or whatever they abide by. I shake it out of my head and
get back to what I am doing. Not my business nor my problem.
My models all look amazing and the beauty and hair team have done an astounding job of matching
make up to my clothes. The hair styles are out of this world and everything is pulling together so nicely.
I keep getting the flashes of cameras every time the curtain swings back slightly with every new girl
coming off the left and again the nausea hits hard.
These pictures, the video and all the critic of every fashion guru sat in the two hundred strong audience
will be all over the internet by midnight. This is an annual affair, and this could literally make or break
me. That thought alone is enough to make my blood run cold and dizziness sweeps over me with force
that almost knocks me off my heels with a wave of lightheadedness.
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