Fashion Jungle

by Kathy Ireland

  It seemed to be getting worse.

  The violence.

  The sickening kisses that tasted like someone else’s lust.

  “I’ll love you forever, you know that,” Frederick teased as he chased her around the studio. “Come on, just take off your shirt, nobody has to know.”

  “You’re bad.” She giggled then pulled her shirt off.

  He snapped a photo, then another. “Gorgeous.” His hair was slicked back, muscles flexing beneath his plain white T-shirt; his low-slung jeans hugged his thick thighs.

  The guy was a walking sexual deviant.

  Everyone said so.

  “Now what?” she asked with a coy smile.

  “Now, I kiss you.” He took two steps toward her. “I’m tired of looking through the lens. I don’t want anything between us, not now, not ever.”

  “I’m not old enough for you to be saying things like that to me.”

  “Our little secret,” he whispered, capturing her chin with his forefinger and thumb. “Besides, you turn eighteen in what? A few years?”

  She nodded dumbly, already under his spell, captivated by the way his massive presence commanded the room.

  “Nobody has to know,” he encouraged, pulling her into his arms. “Right?”

  “It’s none of their business,” she agreed.

  “None.” His mouth touched hers. She wanted it to be soft, she expected it to be romantic. Instead, it felt rough, aggressive. Wrong. It was her first real adult kiss.

  It should be better than modeling.

  Better than anything.

  Powerful.

  He loved her. This was how he showed his love, right?

  She clung to his shirt just as his hands moved to the jeans she’d just been modeling. One button. It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, to ask for more time, but she knew he wasn’t a patient man. Plus, he wanted her, right? Right?

  “You want me,” he said.

  She was always frightened that he could read her thoughts; it was part of their push-pull dynamic.

  All she could do was nod and imagine a life where they didn’t have to hide. Where they could start a family and throw their love in everyone’s faces. Where he’d kiss her tenderly on the mouth and tell her she was everything he’d ever hoped for in life and more.

  Everlee stared into the mirror two seconds longer as memories washed over her. And then she looked down.

  Positive.

  It was positive.

  “Stop slouching,” Roger said from the corner of the living room just as Zoe and Brittany sat down.

  “You call it slouching, I call it sitting,” Zoe fired back in a haughty tone, but she managed to sit a bit straighter while Roger tied his silk bathrobe around his toned body. The guy was in his fifties but took his nutrition and exercise regimen extremely seriously, which was why it was so surprising when he started having gallbladder attacks. Roger was an anchor for them, and Zoe knew she wouldn’t have survived without him.

  Without Dane.

  Why did it always have to come back to Dane?

  “I take it you both thought I was dying and wanted to know if you were in my will?” He brought a cup of tea to his lips and grinned over it, all white teeth teasing them like always.

  Brittany was the one who grabbed a blanket and rested it next to his thigh and then sat down on the plush, white leather couch. “Yeah, we just wanted to make sure that we were still your favorites. Bet none of your other clients bring you soup.”

  “At midnight, too. Color me intrigued.” He eyed the soup then both girls. “Why did you wake me up again?”

  Zoe was the first to speak. “We saw Marnie.”

  Roger set the cup down and nodded. “I see.”

  “Why can’t we say anything again?” This from Brittany. “We have proof that she’s been abusing some of her girls, and she’s slept with I don’t even know how many of the guys she represents. She was flaunting them at the restaurant, and it just kills me that we can’t do anything.”

  “Won’t,” Zoe corrected, feeling sick. Then again, she knew someone who could make the problem go away. He’d probably ask for her spleen or something equally horrifying in return, or maybe just impregnate her and tie her to a bed.

  Not that there weren’t worse ways to go.

  But it was Dane.

  Dane, of all people.

  Dane, who wanted her only because he couldn’t have her. It would be great, for maybe a few months. Then he would get bored as most men did with Zoe when they realized she didn’t live the lavish lifestyle they’d seen painted in magazines during their teen years.

  And off they went.

  Never to be heard from again.

  At least she could invest something in her work—her heart, her time, her body.

  “Zoe’s obviously thinking about killing the witch. Shhh, I think she’s burning up brain cells faster than I’m losing them,” Roger joked, bringing Zoe back to the present.

  With a glare in his direction, Zoe sat a bit straighter. “It’s frustrating, that’s all.”

  “Frustrating, yes.” Roger seemed to choose his words carefully. “You live in a world full of secrets, ladies. If we start telling Marnie’s, then they start telling yours.”

  Brittany jolted while Zoe tried to hide her reaction. “That’s the price you must pay, and no stone will go unturned. She owns her own agency. On top of that, every major photographer goes to her first when they have a campaign where they need a fresh face. You know this since that’s how all of you were discovered.”

  Zoe snorted. “You mean during that one hot New York summer where we slept on the fire escape because one girl had to be hospitalized from heat stroke? I would have given anything for a job just so I could move out.”

  “Bingo.” Roger rubbed a hand over his bald head. “You would have given anything, and that is how Marnie deals with young girls who move into the city. Young boys, as well. She finds your weakness, uses it against you, and then gives you exactly what you wanted all along. Then she seems confused as to why you don’t adore her.” He let out a sigh. “Do what you want, but my opinion on this is the same. As your agent, as your friend, and more importantly, as your family.”

  Zoe gulped back the rock lodged in her throat.

  “I don’t want to see you hurt, and she is the sort of woman who will stop at nothing to hurt you.” Roger turned to Brittany with a knowing look in his eyes. “All of you.”

  Brittany paled and then leaned her head on his shoulder. “What would we do without you?”

  “That’s easy, you’d be really pretty waitresses,” he joked.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Very funny.”

  “You don’t need me, but it does make me feel good that you think you do.” He kissed Brittany on the top of her head then stood and did the same to Zoe.

  What would they do without him?

  Zoe’s parents were gone.

  Brittany, lucky girl that she was, still got visits from hers. She’d grown up with an incredible, loving family, a mom who called her every week, and a dad who told her she could be anything she wanted.

  Whereas Zoe? Zoe had grown up with a drunken father, a drug-using mother, and no money whatsoever. She’d had to claw, bloody and beaten, to the top. And nobody—not Marnie or Dane—was going to take it from her.

  “She’s got that look again,” Roger said without even looking in Zoe’s direction. “Planning world domination, sweetheart?”

  Zoe twisted toward him. “Always.”

  “Uh-huh, just remember, I want to be queen.”

  Brittany burst out laughing. “We’ll make sure to get you a nice crown.”

  “It’s really all I ask for. Now, go home, sleep. And, Brittany, try not to scare off your date.”

  “Oh, that’s right, the date.” Zoe grinned. “I don’t suppose you would wear one of my designs?”

  “I was thinking the strapless white leather, sweetheart bodice, hand-stitched with love?” Brittany fired back
like she was already planning on it, which just made Zoe feel less guilty about using her friend’s body and impeccable manners to get more attention before Fashion Week.

  “Love that dress.” Zoe almost jumped up and down. “You should pair it with the—”

  “You should pair it with the black Valentino sling-backs, the studded ones,” Roger added in a bored tone as he hid a yawn.

  Brittany frowned. “I don’t own those shoes.”

  “Silly me, must have slipped my mind.” He walked into the large entry and came back with a black box. “Here, thank you for taking me to surgery and picking me up, you were a lifesaver.” He jerked the shoes back when she stretched out her hands. “Honestly, I should just take them back. I already did my good deed for the year and got you a date—fingers crossed you get some action.”

  “I second that.” Zoe grinned.

  Brittany rolled her eyes. “Hard pass.” She took the box from Roger’s hands then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Why don’t I dance with him first?”

  “Brittany, you’re beautiful, and he’s gorgeous. I love details about everybody’s intimate lives… except yours. Because I know all about the mantra. You won’t sleep with anyone until you’re married. But please be reasonable for once. Don’t shut him down completely. Give the guy the opportunity to get to know you, the real you that we all love. He needs a reason to hang around, so if you can’t dangle yourself as the carrot, dangle your shining personality.” He grinned. His kind words made Zoe’s chest ache, maybe because it was true, perhaps because she envied the perfection of Brittany’s life just a little more than she was willing to admit. After all, Zoe had had no issue jumping into bed with Dane early on, and look how wonderful that’d turned out. And just like that, it was as if a loud ticking noise started in her head.

  Time was almost up, wasn’t it?

  “Why?” Brittany asked. “Roger, what’s so different about the guy? Usually, you tell us that men only want one thing and to run in the opposite direction.”

  “True.” Zoe snorted.

  “Ah.” Roger grinned. “Chemistry. You have to account for chemistry. And you guys had it in spades. Think about it. If you open your heart, you may even find yourself falling in love.”

  Brittany shook her head then leaned in and pressed a kiss to Roger’s cheek. “You’re pushing it a bit for a first date. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “I want you to call me tonight. If you don’t, I’ll hold my breath and turn into a puffer fish.”

  Zoe and Brittany both burst out laughing.

  “As if you could go that long without talking,” Brittany teased while Zoe made a knowing face. The guy could talk anyone out of or into anything. That was why he was so good. She was surprised that he still had a voice after all these years.

  As if to prove a point, Roger sucked in a breath and puffed out his cheeks, then pinched his nostrils.

  “Good to know those drugs are working,” Zoe teased.

  “I think that’s just him.” Brittany laughed and gave him a brief hug. “I love you, silly. Goodnight.”

  Roger exhaled and then jabbed a finger into the air. “Just remember what I said!”

  “She’s got it.” Zoe winked. “I’ll make sure to knock off the rust before we send her out.”

  “I’m leaving now.” Brittany’s melodic laugh made Zoe smile as she leaned in and kissed Roger on the cheek.

  “Sweetheart,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Queen.” She winked and then added, “Oh, and next time I get to drop you off. I have my eye on a pair of Yves Saint Laurent pumps.”

  “Scout’s honor.” He put a hand over his heart.

  The girls slowly exited the apartment and made their way down the short hallway to the elevator.

  The doors opened before Zoe could press a button, revealing Frederick and a young model who looked exactly like Brittany.

  Zoe frowned. “Late shoot at Roger’s?”

  Did she just hate all men? Was that her problem?

  Frederick held out his hands, one contained his camera. His black bag was slung over his left shoulder. “I stopped by to show Roger the shots, yes. Easy, girls…” His smile was too pretty.

  Maybe that was why she wanted to stab him in the throat.

  “I’m sure they’re lovely,” Brittany said, smoothing over the situation and then giving the young model a pretty smile. “First shoot?”

  “Yeah.” She gulped and then shook her head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re my idol. You’re Brittany Nicole, right?”

  “That’s right,” Frederick said with a grin that almost claimed he’d discovered her. The creep.

  Zoe clearly needed a nap.

  “Wow, I mean, you’re so beautiful up close. I grew up with posters of you on my wall.” The girl squeezed her eyes shut. “And that sounded way creepier out loud than it did in my head when I practiced it just in case I ever met you.”

  They were the same height and had the same pretty blue eyes and luscious hair, though the girl’s hair was darker, shorter.

  “Why don’t we take a selfie really quick?” Brittany offered.

  “You would do that?” the girl screeched, making Zoe’s ears ring.

  “Actually”— Zoe held out her hand for Brittany’s phone—“I’ll do it. She’s horrible at selfies. She always cuts off body parts. Last selfie, I had one eye so…”

  “My arms were tired!” Brittany laughed it off. “Okay, fine.” She handed Zoe the phone and wrapped an arm around the girl.

  The smiles were beautiful, broad.

  Zoe almost felt wistful as she took the picture and handed Brittany her phone back.

  “What’s your name? I’ll tag you,” Brittany said politely, the smile still in place.

  “Chrissy!” the girl all but shouted. “Sorry, it’s Chrissy Mendoza.”

  “Found you.” Brittany’s fingers moved rapidly across her iPhone screen. “Just followed you. Have fun tonight.” She put her hand on her shoulder and then pressed the elevator button.

  “I will!” The young model seemed more excited about Brittany than her shoot.

  “Hey.” Frederick jerked his head in their direction. “My wife didn’t come with you?”

  “No, she said she was too tired.” Zoe shrugged. “You know her and late-night TV, though…”

  He snorted. “Yeah, she’s a homebody through and through.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Zoe said quickly.

  Frederick frowned and then flashed another camera-ready smile. “Never said there was…” He turned and put his hand on Chrissy’s lower back. “See you girls later.”

  Zoe watched with narrowed eyes as his hand lowered until it was right above the girl’s ass. The elevator doors closed. Zoe was still staring daggers.

  “Hey.” Brittany nudged her. “You all right?”

  “Yeah…” She licked her lips and gripped her purse tighter in her hand. “I know it’s the job, lots of late nights, and I know Roger will take care of her. I just… Something about Frederick lately is… off.”

  Brittany tilted her head. “Yeah, I noticed that the other night. We’re both single, though, so what do we know?”

  “True.” Zoe shot a quizzical glance up at Brittany. “Fair warning, I may be into girls.”

  Brittany wrapped her arm around Zoe and squeezed. “You’re not my type.”

  “Gross, not my friends. I mean like, girls…”

  “Yeah, do me a favor and let’s have this conversation again in front of Dane. I want to see a man that size pass out.”

  “Very funny.”

  “He loves you, you know?” Brittany said once they were at the lobby level and walking passed security.

  “Dane isn’t a man who is capable of loving anything more than himself,” Zoe said in a harsh whisper.

  “He loved Danica.”

  “Yeah.” Zoe gulped, thinking about the times she and Dane had snuck away from the group to make out at the mo
vie theater when she was young. How he’d wiped her tears away and told her he would save her when she needed to hear it the most. “He did.”

  “So, why can’t he love you?”

  He already does.

  But love… was a dangerous, fickle thing.

  And Zoe was sure that if she got too close…

  It would destroy her completely.

  New York Fashion Week Countdown - 15 Days

  In the limo, Brittany wrung her hands together. Her fingernails were painted a pale pink. Her studded Valentino’s were, in fact, a perfect match for the leather cocktail dress with its curve-hugging fabric. The only problem was that she couldn’t take a deep breath to save her life.

  Because she had hips.

  Something she was always desperate to hide.

  Yes, she was thin.

  Fit.

  Flawless.

  But a size zero felt snug.

  Women who wore a size zero had the added challenge of pulling it over hips before it could settle, and because of her wider hips, fabric tended to pucker slightly enough for her to notice if she weren’t careful with what she wore.

  The leather hid it well.

  Black hid it even better.

  Her posture ramrod straight, she drummed her fingertips against her bare thigh. Her left hand gripped her Lana Marks Cleopatra clutch. The bag personally designed for her over sixteen years ago. She never attended a gala without it. She viewed it as both armor and a reminder of what happened when you thought with your heart rather than your head.

  Never again.

  A date.

  Was she actually going to do this?

  Meet a man she barely knew outside one of New York’s most sought-after galas?

  The car stopped.

  Apparently, the answer to that question was a glaring yes because there he stood, just outside the red-carpet area. Yellow daisies in hand.

  How did he know they were her favorite?

  Her heart squeezed painfully as she watched his eyes skim the growing crowd, along with the celebrities, politicians, and CEOs who came in a steady stream of expensive cars.

  Brittany’s driver opened her door.