by Mia Wolf
“Right,” she says, returning a polite yet tired smile as she crouches down and puts both of her hands on her knees then takes deep breaths to calm herself down.
“So let me catch you up to speed on everything and show you around. We have a meeting with the models in a few hours, but we’ll be done before that. You’ll perhaps have some time to go around to check things out for yourself afterwards. You can grab lunch, it’s up to you. There’s this amazing pizza place I know,” Violet pauses suddenly, “sorry, I tend to digress.”
“Knowing that pizza place is supreme intel, I would say,” I say, hoping it doesn’t come off as pedantic.
We go down a narrow lobby carpeted entirely in red, and I feel the rush of excitement in my stomach. It looks so professional, better than what I imagined in my head, and it’s all so surreal. The glee makes its way up to my mouth, and an unshakable smile dances on my face as Violet leads me to the auditorium.
She stops in front of a white door and turns to me. “That one’s yours,” she says and points at a nameplate. It says my name.
A sudden urge to run my fingers over the plate boils in me, but I notice Violet looking at me from the corner of her eyes, so I refrain from acting like a weirdo. My eyes remain glued to my name written in gold on a black plate.
Rose Maibach
Designer
Designer! My brain is about to explode at the thought when Violet starts walking again. I don’t want to leave, but I reluctantly follow after her through the hallway.
“You’ll spend all of your time in that office, don’t worry,” Violet says. I blush when I realize that I’m not as subtle with my expressions as I believe. “Besides don’t you want to see the runway?”
My heart skips an actual beat hearing the words. The answer is yes, a thousand times. I most definitely want to see the runway. My heart is beating impossibly fast in my ribcage, and I cannot keep a check on my breath. I tighten my hands into fists as I see the end of the hallway approaching. We walk up a tiny staircase that leads into the backstage area. As we walk a little further, I see the beginning of the white walkway. The passage goes straight for a few feet then turns a sharp right into the long, wooden ramp. I take quick steps and stand in the middle of the runway and let myself bask in the glory of the center stage. The ramp is flanked with empty seats on either side, and a single light source is illuminated at the far end of the auditorium.
This is what makes my heart beat. This is what makes me feel alive. If I weren’t afraid of embarrassing myself, I would cry from happiness.
“It looks quite different when it’s empty,” Violet says staring at the vacant room as if she’s seeing it for the first time.
“It’s enchanting,” I reply in a half gasp, half whisper.
Violet snorts out a laugh at that, and it snaps me right back to reality.
“You’re like a child who just got handed candy,” Violet says and retreats. That’s my cue to follow her once more.
She looks about a few years older than me, perhaps thirty five, and is the only person around here who is not dressed for an impromptu party. She has a simple white t-shirt on and a pair of black pants. Her straight blonde hair looks disheveled as it falls unevenly on either side of her head. Her back looks tired, I notice. Having seen Ashley Wang, albeit only in pictures, it’s hard to accept that anyone around her could look so—, I rummage my brain for the right word and then it comes me: Normal. Violet looks normal. Somehow untouched by the glitter of the world around her.
“And we’re back at your office. This is where people will find you so try to be here as much as possible. Though it’ll be impossible for you to be here all the time so if anyone gives you too much shit about it, don’t listen to them,” Violet says in a manner of instructing.
She catches me up to speed with the progress so far and with the schedule, the dates, and the meetings. None of which include a meeting with Ashley Wang, of course. Though I’ve been informed that she’ll be updated with it all.
“You’re on the second night. It’ll get pretty crowded in about a week; that’s when the rest of the designers are scheduled for tryouts. You’ll start tomorrow and probably need to be done before next week because then it’s all hunger games for who gets to call dibs on the ramp and trust me that’s a battle you don’t want to fight. You don’t have too many overlapping models so you should be fine.”
Violet is doling out information at me, and all I can think of is the night when it’s all going to happen. It’s my turn to make the world look at me.
“You got all that?” Violet asks once she’s done. I’m not certain I heard everything she said, but I still nod. I need to get to work.
“Alright, your headset is on the table. If you need anything, you let me know. Good?” Violet doesn’t wait for me to respond and exits my office.
I’m finally alone in my own personal den, at least for a while. I pick up the sheet of paper that’s on the counter. It’s the schedule for the day. Under the column of meetings, it says meeting with the models at 2 p.m. In the list of models, I find the name I’ve been searching for. It’s not that difficult since it’s circled in red ink, I wonder what that’s all about.
I check my watch to see that it’s 1:30 p.m. I have a little bit of time left for lunch, so I quickly get my things and go out to grab a bite to eat.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur. The meeting with the models lasts for about two hours, but I’m a little disheartened to find that Andrew is not a part of it. When I ask Violet about the matter, she tells me that he’ll be showing up briefly later on and that I’ll get to meet him then. What she doesn’t say but what I hear loud and clear, is that I’ll be meeting him alone. Alone. That does not help the jitters I’ve been feeling all day which might turn into anxiety at any moment. I look forward to meeting him all the same.
I had mentioned to him that we could go on a work date and grab a coffee, but we hadn’t decided on a time or place. I wonder when I’ll see him. Lost in thoughts about him, I make my way back to my office to take a breather.
As soon as I enter, I can smell a faint fragrance that I hadn’t smelled in my office before. I look around and see a large bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter. I walk up to it and blush, realizing who they are from without even checking the card. They’re from Andrew, he sent me white roses painted in silver. I bite my lip as I hold the flowers to my chest. He is killing me.
By 7 p.m., most people have left, and that’s when Andrew Brehm decides to show up. Nobody tells me why he’s the special snowflake who gets to call shots on everybody’s time as he pleases, but I’m finding it difficult to be mad at him after he sent me the beautiful bouquet.
Just when I thought I could handle him, I’m proven wrong. The moment he steps into my office, I forget all common sense.
Chapter 10 – Andrew
I’m almost done for the day and driving to Regal’s office building when I receive the call from Jackson. He updates me on today’s most important business details first then catches me up to speed on tomorrow’s schedule.
Tomorrow is when the tryouts at Regal’s start. As per the request, I was supposed to spend this afternoon plus upwards of eight hours each of the following days at Regal. However, as my team knows, I don’t have that kind of time to spare. So Jackson talked to Ashley Wang and clarified that I’ll be available for a couple of hours each day and that their crew needs to manage the tryouts accordingly. Jackson gives me a quick rundown of the meetings that I have scheduled for tomorrow. He also tells me that the flowers were delivered as asked.
The traffic light in front of me turns green, and I steer my car further in the direction of Regal’s office building. I’ve made my peace with having accepted the modeling offer, but being involved in something like fashion as opposed to business is a bit of a learning curve. Frankly, the tryouts are way too time consuming for my taste, but I’m aware that good things take a lot of time to come to fruition. And good art, doubly so. I try to kee
p my cool by repeating that to myself.
My mind, however, is tuned to a single channel which is the fact that I’ll finally be meeting Rose. We hadn’t set a date or time for our “coffee date,” and I decided that I can’t wait any longer. We’ve only had brief interactions so far, but I want to chase this feeling to its tail’s end. I can’t describe what it’s like. Perhaps, like a boat rocking on the stormy sea for an eternity before it finally finds the light. That’s how it feels, anyway. Like a much-awaited calm.
I want to know what it is about her that feels like home.
When I arrive at Regal’s, I find a couple of people running helter-skelter at what seems like the backstage of the runway.
“Hello Mr. Brehm,” says a lady’s voice, and I look around to find her. She makes her way towards me as she speaks something into the headset that she’s wearing. “Mr. Brehm, I assume you’re here to meet Miss Maibach? I’m Violet, by the way.”
We shake hands before she leads the way out of the backstage area and into a hallway where she takes me to an office with a nameplate that reads Rose Maibach. I notice my muscles tense at that. I’m not used to women having this effect on me, it’s quite nerve-wracking, to be honest.
Violet flings open the door, and my eyes immediately find the woman that has been keeping me up at night. Ever since our first conversation that day, I kept wanting to talk to her again, but I didn’t want to come across as needy. It made me realize something: I’m pretty clueless when it comes to these sorts of things. It’s all about experience, and I’ve had very limited experience with ‘real’ dating. If people around me were to find that out, given the number of dates I go on, I’d lose all my street-cred.
The coordinator leaves me alone with Rose. She’s dressed in a white pantsuit, and her blonde hair is falling all around her. She speaks something into the microphone then tilts her head towards me. We silently read each other for a while before either of us speaks. I see the bouquet of flowers beside her and smile.
The way she’s looking at me and those full red lips… it takes every bit of strength in me not to pin her against the wall straight away.
“They really are silver,” she says in a raspy voice.
I inch towards her without a word. She takes a step back in apprehension as I continue to close the distance between us which makes a devilish smile appear on my face. I wonder what she thinks I’m going to do. For a moment, we both stop breathing. I slip a gentle hand around her waist and give her a formal hug.
“It’s nice to meet you, Rose,” I say in an even voice, but her body flushed against mine is making my brain short-circuit. I let go before I can do anything stupid and clear my throat.
I take a few steps away from her and notice that Rose is standing frozen in place. There is a look of horror on her face.
“Rose,” I say, and her eyes follow the sound of my voice, but she still seems to be petrified. All the blood has drained from her face, and I’m starting to worry now.
“Rose,” I repeat and put both hands on her shoulder to make sure she doesn’t fall. She looks like she might pass out. I make her sit on a chair near the counter. As she slowly regains consciousness and realizes what’s happening, her face regains some color, and my shoulders finally sag in relief.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods swallowing hard as if something’s stuck in her throat.
“Did you like the flowers?” I say in an attempt to divert her attention.
To my delight, her face turns red. It makes me grin at her.
When she finally seems to have regained herself, I look at my watch to check the time.
“It’s 7, do you want to go and have dinner together? We were supposed to go on a work date,” I say more insistently than I would’ve liked. I stop myself from staring at her lips again which seem to be the only thing on my mind at the moment.
Come on Andrew, get a grip.
Rose sighs before she painstakingly speaks. “It’s work. There is no date,” she says, more to herself than to me, like a kid trying to deny wanting candy. I can’t help but smirk at the distress on her face.
“Semantics, Miss Maibach.”
She gets her things, and we walk out of the office building to where my car is parked. I slump into the driver’s seat and look to the side to find that Rose is still standing at the pavement.
“Something the matter?” I ask.
“This is your car?” she snorts in something resembling disbelief.
That makes me realize that she has no idea who I am. She probably thinks I’m a broke model. I stifle a playful grin at the realization. I wonder what she’ll think of me when she finds out.
We choose a quiet cafe for its ambiance which is not too far from Regal’s building, and I find myself on yet another date. This one, however, is unusual, to say the least. One, I’m only here for business, and two, I am not confident that I have the self-control to pull this off. It doesn’t make any sense. I see plenty of women like Rose all day long. They’re tall, beautiful, well-mannered, intelligent, and more. So why is it she who has me in the palm of her hand?
I take my sunglasses off since we’re indoors and silently observe Rose in hopes to figure out why my body is so hell-bent on getting in her pants. Silk smooth blonde hair in a top-bun, typical of models, but then Rose is not a model, she’s a designer.
“Have you tried a career in modeling yourself?” I ask matter-of-factly. I don’t see why she wouldn’t since she doesn’t look much different from all the models I’ve met, and as a fitness trainer, I’ve seen a bunch.
“I’ve thought about it, but not professionally. I’m sure I love fashion design more than modelling,” she replies, idly sipping water from her glass.
My eyes travel down her neck. It’s long, but the collar of her suit is what gives it the television look. She really is good at what she does. I let my gaze travel further down to her chest, which is not busty but still visible from the clothing.
The sound of Rose clearing her throat makes me realize what I’m doing which is staring at her boobs. I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want Rose to think that I’m a pervert either. What a catch 22.
“Sorry,” I say sincerely. No point denying it when you get caught red-handed. I divert my attention to our “meeting.”
“So, how can I be of help?” I ask. “Miss Wang told me that I’ll be your showstopper. I’m not very informed about the nuances of that position so I’d love to take your help in that. As for the rest, I’m all yours.”
When I stop speaking, I find Rose staring deeply into my eyes as if she’s searching for something.
“They really are silver,” I say which clearly interrupts her thoughts.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I didn’t say you were.”
Rose fidgets with the golden bracelet on her wrist as she speaks. “The texture of your hair is pretty interesting, too.” Her voice is now firm and more professional. “That bone structure is also pretty impressive, there’s a lot to work with here,” she says carefully scrutinizing every inch of my skin. It makes me feel naked somehow.
Women do this all the time but never have I considered it more flattering than right now.
“I don’t know how I do this, but things snap into place in my head the moment I’m thinking of designing. I see the prompt, and a vision pops into my head,” she says in a manner of explaining, “I think I know what I want to do with you.”
My first thought is that Ashley Wang might actually be right about Rose being a good fit for RISE, but my second thought is far more over-powering.
I think I know what I want to do with you? The words repeat themselves in my head. This woman is driving me insane. If only she had an idea of what I want to do with her. I avert my gaze from her to ease the growing discomfort in my jeans. I wonder whether she is doing this on purpose.
“I’m looking forward to it. Tell me more about you,” I say leaning on the table, trying to focus on the conversat
ion once again. “How have we come to have this dinner tonight?”
“You have a lot of fans,” is her reply. Rose points to the window of the cafe where a group of girls is walking by and staring in my direction.
“So it would seem.” I press my lips. What I really want to say is that it gets old pretty quickly. In fact, I don’t remember having ever enjoyed that kind of attention. It’s a big part of the reason why I never wanted to become a model even after being persistently asked to do so. I don’t want to become a celebrity and get flocked around by a crowd all the time. I may not give off the impression, but I enjoy my personal space. Unwanted attention is an inconvenience at best.
“You get used to it,” I say when the silence stretches on, but Rose is still looking out the window with a scowl on her face. I sigh.
“I don’t think I want to continue this meeting further,” Rose says and gets up from her chair, picks up her purse, and starts to leave.
“Where are you going?” I say reaching for her arm to try to stop her. “Wait, I can drop you off.”
“No, it’s alright. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you at the tryouts.” She yanks free of my grip and leaves.
Besides the fact that it annoys me to end to have constant groups of women frolicking around me, I never considered that they would become a problem if I ever actually wanted to hang out with someone. I was expecting the opposite, hoping that women would stop following me if they saw I was seeing someone. That’s apparently not the case.
I drive back home crestfallen. I don’t know what to do, not wanting to stalk her but at the same time not being able to stop thinking about her. So I text her.
“I’m sorry, but it’s not under my control, you know.”
No reply.
Chapter 11 – Rose
I busy myself with the preparations for the show. I have about a million operations to run and meetings to attend. I definitely underestimated the amount of work that goes into creating something of this magnitude. I don’t mind the work at all, though. On the contrary, I’m starting to feel like this might be where I belong.