by Meg Cabot
Chapter 18
It was nearly two hours later before Raoul got enough shots he thought he could use. I had to do a bunch more different poses. Some of them involved me biting into a big red apple. That was fake. And tasted like dirt. Another pose I had to do involved hanging off Brandon Stark’s shoulders like I was one of those baby rhesus monkeys, clinging to their mothers. I said I thought that pose was kind of misogynistic, because it implied that women are helpless and need a big strong man to support them. I mostly just said that because draping myself over Brandon that way reminded me of how fun kissing him had been, and made me want to kiss him again, which, considering how mad he was at me about Gabriel – and the fact that I’m crushing on someone else entirely – didn’t seem like it would be the best idea. Raoul didn’t take my advice anyway though. And Rebecca took me aside and asked if I had a fever. ‘Because normally you know better than to criticize an art director’s vision,’ she said. I pointed out to her that the media is notorious for infantilizing women in their images of us, and asked if it didn’t bother her, as a feminist, that she was partly contributing to that. She looked at me and went, ‘Are you taking any kind of medication for your head injury? Because if so they need to up the dosage. ’ I could sort of see her point. I mean, if I didn’t do the pose, they’d just hire some other model to do it. Still, it was totally embarrassing having to smush my boobs up against Brandon like that. Not that he seemed to mind . . . That was the problem. My embarrassment aside, I didn’t mind much either. And I think Brandon started to get over his being mad at me about the whole riding-on-the-back-of-Gabriel-Luna’s-Vespa thing, because after about half an hour of my smushing my boobs into his back, he whispered, ‘Hey What are you doing after this?’ I was caught totally caught off guard, and asked, ‘Who? Me?’ ‘No,’ Brandon said very sarcastically. ‘I’m talking to Pete, the lighting guy. Of course you. ’ ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m just going back to the loft. Why?’ ‘Cool,’ Brandon said. ‘Maybe I’ll stop by. ’ I felt myself starting to blush. I didn’t know a whole lot about guys, but I knew what Maybe I’ll stop by meant. Or at least, I was pretty sure I did. Considering where my boobs were. I had a good idea where they’d be later too. I was positive I wasn’t going to be able to stop them from being there. Not if I knew Nikki. Or at least, how she got when guys started kissing her. They tossed the word wanton around a lot in those romance novels Frida – and, OK, I have to admit, I – liked to read. Well, wanton pretty much summed up how Nikki got whenever a guy stuck his tongue in her mouth. OK. My mouth. But what about Christopher? I mean, he was the one I really loved, and I’d never even once managed to get within kissing distance of him . . . Oh God. This was all so confusing. I tried to think up some excuse as to why Brandon shouldn’t stop by the loft later, and finally seized upon a perfect one. ‘The thing is,’ I whispered, ‘I’m going to bed early. I’ve got school in the morning. ’ Brandon made a face – until Gwen, the photographer, asked him to please stop. ‘School? You’re kidding me, right?’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘Tribeca Alternative High School. My first day. I want to be nice and well rested. And, well, you know. What with the accident, and all—’ ‘I thought the school thing was just a PR stunt,’ Brandon said. I jerked my boobs off him in shock. ‘A PR stunt? Who said that?’ ‘Nikki,’ Gwen called, ‘don’t move, please! Pete’s just adjusting the lighting –’ ‘Well,’ Brandon said, ‘that’s what people are saying—’ ‘Education is necessary for anyone to grow as an individual,’ I said. ‘I’m going to school so I can go to college some day, not as a PR stunt. ’ And not just so I can check up on my best friend, who I happen to be crushing on, and make sure he hasn’t found some other girl, either. ‘Kelly!’ Gwen yelled. ‘Nikki,’ Kelly called to me, ‘could you get back in your place, please?’ I got back in my place, draped over Brandon’s back. But I wasn’t happy about it. People were saying Nikki Howard was going to high school as a PR stunt? That was terrible! And so untrue! I could see I needed to speak to Brandon’s father, now more than ever. He couldn’t keep the truth about what had really happened to Nikki to himself now. He just couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. But it was really hard to get Mr Stark’s attention, because every time he wasn’t posing for the cameras, he was on his (non-Stark-brand) cellphone yelling at someone, or telling one of the many people in the room to get him someone else’s phone number, or an espresso. Finally, after what seemed like another five hours – my feet were throbbing, and my mouth muscles twitching from smiling so much – Raoul said, ‘That’s a wrap, people! You can all go home!’ And Mr Stark said, ‘Thank God,’ and started taking out his cufflinks. I was sitting right on the desk in front of him, so I just went, ‘Mr Stark? Can I talk to you a minute?’ And he looked down at me, and went, ‘No. ’ Seriously! Just like that! But I’m not a straight-A student – and haven’t gotten to level forty-five in Journeyquest – for nothing. I mean, I’m no quitter. And not even a billionaire corporate executive who also runs an underground brain-transplant clinic is going to thwart me. ‘It’s just . . . ’ I said in a low voice as everyone around us was gathering up power cords and taking down the blackout curtains. ‘Don’t you think what you’re doing is wrong? I mean, about Nikki. ’ He looked right at me. His eyes, I noticed, were brown, with tiny ruby glints in them. Or maybe that was just the way they looked in the klieg lights, which were being turned off, one by one. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ I went on quickly. ‘I’m totally grateful for what Doctor Holcombe did for me. And I am totally willing to go through with my end of the contract. But don’t you think Nikki’s friends – her family – deserve to know the truth? So they can mourn her properly? I mean, some people even think she was in rehab last month. How unfair is that? I’m sure once they understand your issue with the whole thing, they’ll get it. It’s just that you can’t go around replacing one person with a completely different one, you know. It’s not right. I know Nikki might have been a model and all, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have a unique personality and people who loved her. And, I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but someone loaded that computer you gave her with keystroke-tracking software—’ ‘JESSICA!’ Mr Stark startled me by yelling. One of the ponytailed girls in the fancy glasses came scurrying up. ‘Yes, sir?’ ‘Jessica, get my coat. Is my reservation at Per Se all set?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ Jessica said, trailing after her boss as he strode away from me. ‘And your car’s waiting downstairs –’ It was only then that I realized: Robert Stark was walking away from me! He was just walking away from me, as if I hadn’t said anything! As if I was just . . . not even there! As if I was just . . . just . . . An airhead model. ‘But – Mr Stark!’ I called after him. But Robert Stark just kept going, walking out of his office without so much as a second glance at me. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe how he’d just walked away like that. The one person I thought could help me – or not even me so much as Nikki – and he’d just completely ignored me, as if I was a fly. Or a busboy. Or a girl. ‘Don’t even bother,’ a deep voice behind me advised. I turned around and found myself looking up at Brandon. Brandon was staring after his father with a look I can only describe as . . . well. Not very friendly. ‘He doesn’t speak to the talent,’ Brandon informed me. I stared at him in confusion. ‘The talent? You mean . . . ’ Me. I’m the talent. ‘Or to me,’ Brandon added bitterly, ‘if he can help it. He’s much too busy and important. ’ ‘But. ’ I shook my head, not sure I understood. ‘He’s your dad. Of course he can’t be too busy for you. ’ Brandon gave me a strange look. Then he said, ‘You really do have amnesia, don’t you?’ And with that, he turned around and walked away before I could say another word. I was on my way back to the changing area to slip into my own clothes, when I ran into Rebecca and Kelly. ‘Darling, you were fabulous!’ Rebecca cried. ‘I wasn’t,’ I said to her. My neck still throbbed from the way Raoul had made me arch it. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing
. And Mr Stark hates me. ’ Although, truthfully, I wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing . . . ‘So you’re a little rusty,’ Rebecca said with a shrug. ‘You hit your head! That we should all look so good after concussion. And Bob Stark hates everybody. Uh, this is ringing –’ She held out the cellphone my mom had given to me. It was flashing my home number. My mom was calling, no doubt about dinner. I realized I hadn’t followed her directions and called as soon as I’d gotten to the photo shoot. I let it go to voicemail. ‘I’ll call her back,’ I said. I didn’t think I could handle my mom and all her questions – and concerns – just then. ‘Great,’ Rebecca said. ‘Now, Kelly and I want to take you out for dinner to celebrate the SI gig. We got your favourite table at Nobu. We’ll make it a ladies’ night . . . unless Brandon wants to come?’ I glanced over my shoulder at Brandon, who was already on his way to the elevators. ‘Uh, Brandon’s got other plans,’ I said. ‘And actually, I’m really tired. I think I’m just going to head back to the loft and crash, if that’s OK. I mean, I just got out of the hospital this morning, and I’ve got school in the morning—’ ‘Say no more,’ Rebecca said with a smile. ‘We’ll do it another time. Tomorrow afternoon, after the Elle shoot, perhaps. ’ ‘Tomorrow?’ I stared at her. ‘We have a shoot tomorrow?’ ‘Honey, you are booked solid all this week,’ Kelly said, thrusting Cosabella into my arms. ‘You are on fire, you’re so hot right now. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider this going-back-to-school thing? Because it’s really cutting into your availability—’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘I mean, yes. I mean, I have to go to school’ I wanted to. How else was I going to find out if Christopher was into me at all? Oh, and get an education? Kelly shook her head. ‘This school thing’s gonna kill me,’ she grumbled. And a second later she was barking into her headset, ‘No! I told you! She’s not available until after three p. m. What part of three p. m. did you not understand?’ ‘Well, I think it’s great,’ Rebecca said to me. ‘Christy Turlington ended up studying comparative religion and eastern philosophy at NYU, you know. If she can do it, you can. Although, how smart could she be if she thought Fashion Cafe would ever take off?’ ‘Um,’ I said, because I had no idea what she was talking about, ‘I should go . . . ’ ‘Of course you should. ’ Rebecca took me by the arm and started steering me back to the changing area. ‘Girls! Nikki has to go!’ And, like magic, a few seconds later, I had been stripped of my ethereal dress and stilettos, and was back in my own clothes, in a limo heading back downtown – by myself, this time. And in my lap – besides Cosabella – was something Rebecca had handed me on my way out. ‘Oh,’ she’d said. ‘Here. I’ve been meaning to give you this. ’ And she’d passed me a bronze-leather tote marked Prada, that caused my shoulder to sag, it was so heavy. ‘What’s this?’ I’d asked curiously. ‘Hon,’ Rebecca had said with a laugh. ‘It’s your purse! You dropped it the day of the accident. I’ve been holding it for you. Your life is in there. Your Sidekick, your cellphone, your credit cards . . . hold on to it this time, all right, honey?’ Now, in the limo, I dumped the contents of Nikki Howard’s bag into my lap and marvelled at what I found there. I’d suspected before. But now I knew for sure. I was rich. Nikki Howard had a platinum American Express card, two gold Visas, a gold Mastercard, a platinum Chase bank card for quick ATM withdrawals, tons of cash (four hundred and twenty-seven dollars’ worth), and a chequebook that said she had three hundred and six thousand, six hundred and thirty-two dollars and eleven cents in her savings account, and twenty-two thousand dollars in her current account. And that was just what was in her bank account. Who knew what she had invested? Because I found a business card for a Smith Barney investment adviser that was tattered and looked well used. I was freaking loaded. Not enough to buy myself out of my Stark contract. But I could help my parents out if they ran into problems. This was awesome. The first thing I did (after admiring Nikki’s neatly balanced chequebook) was check out her cellphone. But, like the one my mom had given me, it was Stark-brand. Same thing for the Sidekick. The batteries of both were dead from having gone without use for so long, so it wasn’t like I could turn them on to check (and even if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to tell myself. Only the Commander would have been able to know for sure). But I suspected they, like Nikki’s laptop, might have been tapped. Maybe I was just being paranoid. But waking up in someone else’s body can do that to a girl. The rest of Nikki’s bag seemed to contain only makeup and half empty containers of acid-reflux medication. But it was comforting to know I had some money at least. All I wanted to do when I got to the loft was order some takeout for dinner (which I could now pay for – and I didn’t feel guilty about using Nikki’s money, because after that photo shoot, I felt like I’d earned it), strip off my clothes, take a long, hot bath, maybe watch some TV and go to bed. And now I could pay the delivery guy. And pick up a bagel or whatever for breakfast on my way to school in the morning. But when I arrived at the loft five minutes later, I saw my plan for a quiet dinner and a nice bubble bath in Nikki’s jacuzzi go down the drain . . . pretty much literally. Because when the elevator doors opened to let me and Cosabella out into Nikki’s place, a dozen people – including Lulu and Brandon – yelled, ‘Welcome home, Nikki!’ threw streamers, popped champagne corks and rushed to hug me. Yeah. I was surprised, all right. Especially since the person hugging me the hardest turned out to be Justin Bay.