by Frances, Jo
Then, just like that, Jamie was on a flight to London. The most difficult part was trying to say goodbye to Sean, who was so annoyed she was leaving early that he went to his trailer and refused to come out when she knock.
After an hour flight, she landed in London, where she was driven straight from the airport to Merlin Nast's studio for a fitting. The designer and his staff were still there at nine in the evening, feverishly making last minute preparations.
Merlin Nast, a man who was thinner than the model he was pinning, frowned when she walked in. His dark hooded eyes looked Jamie up and down---the fashion industry's universal greeting. "Who's this?" he asked to no one in particular.
"Jamie," she said, "Liz Everett sent me?"
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well, as you can see," he said indicating the model in front of him with a nod, "you are a little late."
"Oh. OK." She should have known that Nast's people probably sent out an emergency call to every agency they knew, not giving a damn if 25 girls flew in, so long as they were covered. Although she wanted to scream, Jamie kept her tone polite as she turned to go.
"But wait. Come here," Merlin commanded her. As Jamie walked over to him, he called out to someone in the back of the room. "Brooks! Don't you think we can use her?"
A young man covered in piercings and tattoos wearing a leopard print vest stepped forward from another room.
"This is Seymour Brooks---" began Merlin.
He gave a theatrical gasp when he saw Jamie. "Omigod! You're Jamie! You're with Sean Foley!"
"Well, actually---"
Brooks ignored her. "I know where you're going with this," he said excitedly to Merlin. "We can put her in the camel colored leather! Brilliant!"
"Don't you think?" Merlin said as he made his model turn in front of him. Turning back to Jamie, he finally seemed to see something he liked. "Look at those broad shoulders she has."
Brooks nodded authoritatively, then held out his hand towards her. "OK, come on Jamie. Let's get you fitted." He gave Merlin a sideways glance as they walked away. You can tell me what it was like to fuck Sean Foley."
Merlin gave a derisive snort. "Everyone in this room can tell you what it was like to fuck Sean Foley."
In a small finishing room, Brooks handed her a corset dress as Jamie stripped down to her underwear. Jamie looked at it admiringly. "Wow," she said, touching the butter soft leather. The workmanship was obvious in each seam, in the way the stays were finished.
"This is gonna look great on you," Brooks said, helping her into it. He led her to a mirror where Jamie understood the contrast he was going for. The style and fabric may have shouted "sex", but the color, the cut of the dress sent a conflicting message of refinement and elegance. "You look like caramel, honey----oh, haha, caramel honey!" Brooks tittered. "Like one big vat of caramel, and I bet Sean Foley just ate you up, didn't he?"
Jamie demurred and changed the subject. "Brooks, this is an amazing dress..." she said, fully understanding why some women would spend thousands of dollars on a dress. Truly, she was transformed. "Thank you for choosing me to wear it."
Brooks looked at her as if she were from another planet. "Well, aren't you just a bowl of ice cream" he asked. "So polite, and everything! Where are you from, darling?"
"North Carolina." Normally she was proud to say where she was from, but she was fast becoming sensitive to people patronizing her because she didn't come from either coast.
"North Carolina! You aren't a bowl of ice cream, you're a long tall glass of iced tea, aren't you?"
"How about you, Brooks?"
"I'm from Florida, honey. Everyone thinks that means Miami, but," he whispered theatrically. "I was born in Jacksonville, which makes me a Southerner just like you."
Jamie let out a delighted squeal and threw her arms around him. "I would never have known! And my boyfriend---my ex, I mean, he's from Florida too!"
They screamed and hugged each other like little girls, causing one of the Eastern European models to hiss, "what's so great about Florida?"
Brooks spoke in a drawl, "Trust me, it ain't easy keeping my accents straight. Sometimes it slips out, and I'm always like, now where did that come from??"
It was nearly midnight when Jamie finally collapsed, exhausted, in her hotel bed. She slept soundly until her wakeup call from the front desk at 8:00. Every fiber in Jamie's body protested, but years of early practices had disciplined her to work through fatigue. The 9:00 call time meant she only had time to take a quick shower to wash her hair, get dressed and go---her hair and makeup would be done at the show.
The fashion show was being held at Somerset House, the main venue for London's Fashion Week. Already the place was filled with a kind of disconnected energy as over caffeinated, hyper assistants and stylists tried to shepherd sleepy, indifferent models and editors. As she sat getting her makeup done, Sean called her.
"It's a little early for you to be up, isn't it?" she asked into the phone.
"Well I didn't do anything except sleep last night," From the slur in his voice, it was clear he'd already been drinking. "You took off on me."
"Sean, I didn't take off on you. My agent called me with a job---"
"Ah yes, and it's so difficult to turn those down, isn't it?" His voice hardened. "I mean, didn't you have a job to do in Ireland?"
"Well, when Gantt said it was a wrap, I took that to mean the job was done. Apparently, you thought I was there for more." The people around her suddenly stopped talking as they eavesdropped on her conversation.
"I'm feeling used, Jamie, I just have to tell you."
Jamie snapped. "You were the one who approached me at the party, you were the one who asked me out, you were the one who told me he kept a six month old picture of me and you were the one who asked me to be in this video."
"Yeah, but you were just some struggling model before I met you and now you're fucking famous. So listen, darling, maybe you should remember who brought you to the dance."
"You…asshole!"
"Cold hearted bitch."
Jamie took a deep breath. "Don't confuse not getting what you wanted with being used, Sean." And with that, she clicked off.
There was silence around her for several seconds. Then suddenly everyone sprang back into action, going about their work and acting as if they hadn't heard a thing.
After hair and makeup, she was fitted with the outfit she was going to wear, then rushed to the stage to line up with the other models. The music was already pulsating. Written on a whiteboard next to the stage was the typical nonsensical garbage meant to instruct them as they walked down the runway. "You are a super race of Glamazons set to conquer the earth!!! Walk with power, but not anger!!! Kick ass and have fun!!!" Perfect, Jamie thought. I'm in my power bitch mode anyway.
The producer held each girl back, then yelled "go!" before pushing her onto the stage. It was Jamie's turn. As she waited backstage, the other models were already returning, some running to get another change of clothes.
"Go!"
She walked to the center of the stage, turned and faced a wall of cameras. It was breathtaking to be faced with three rows of lenses pointed at your face. Jamie imagined herself to be a black leather wearing Glamazon, and began her walk with power, not anger!!! strolling down the catwalk. She sensed a ripple of interest from the editors in the front row, flowing towards her. Jamie gave a small smirk towards the cameras as she reached the end of the runway. "Yeah, baby," she heard one of the photographers say as she spun and walked away from them.
At the finale, she could definitely feel the acceleration of shutters clicking when she took the stage again. Like a wave, all the cameras turned towards her and Jamie felt her heart pounding with pride. She kept a haughty look on her face as she strutted towards the photographers, as if daring them to turn away from her.
As soon as she had stepped off the stage, Brooks embraced her. "Well done!" he told her. "Every blogger, every editor, is going to run pictures of this corset on their p
ages." His Euro accent now firmly in place, Brooks gave her a wink as he walked off.
The feeling backstage was one of celebration. Merlin Nast had shown a fantastic collection, and everyone was glad to have been a part of it. The press converged on Merlin Nast as he was surrounded by air kissing well wishers. Various reporters broke off and began approaching the models. One found her way to Jamie as she was trying to leave.
"Jamie! Can we ask you a couple of questions?" Ashley Mubado, a former model, who was now an anchor for StyleTV, called out to her. Since the cameraman was blocking her way, Jamie didn't think she had much choice in the matter. "What did you think of Merlin Nast's collection?"
"I loved it," she replied automatically. "Merlin really knows how to highlight and flatter a woman's form." Jamie winced at how clichéd that sounded, making a mental note to get some media training when she got back to L.A.
"And what about the outfit you wore?" Ashley continued. "You rocked that, girl!"
"Oh, thank you! It was so amazing to wear; I wish I could keep it for myself!" She knew to end on a light note.
With that, Ashley thanked her and Jamie was able to exit through a side door, where freelance photographers awaited. A few snapped her pictures, but it was the photographers who called out, "camel is your color, Jamie!" who she rewarded with a genuine smile.
After going back to her Mayfair hotel, Jamie changed into her running clothes and headed out for the running trail next to the Thames river. One of the things she missed about her old life was the camaraderie of being on a team. Now that she wasn't on one any longer, workouts were no longer about fun; but about work. She missed competing, she missed a coach telling her what to do, and the extra motivation that both gave her. Now, she worked out because her job required her to be a size 2 which wasn't nearly as much fun as competing for a title.
Still, as she began her run, Jamie knew she would never complain about her job. Of course she loved the travel, and as an athlete, she certainly understood the concept of using how a foot placed at one angle, or an arm adjusted to a different height would make a difference. But what she really loved was what she was recently understood----she was a small business owner, and her product was herself. This triggered the entrepreneurial streak inside her, and Jamie took a keen interest in learning about the business. Unlike the other models, she didn't smoke, drink or do drugs. Not that she would have anyway---she and Chase were never partiers in college---but having an appreciation of how she could damage her "product" by doing any of those things was enough for her to swear off those things for good.
With a sudden shock, she realized that Chase must have felt the same way. He had always been so disciplined about his diet, and was constantly seeking ways to improve himself, either by being the first one in the gym, or by viewing his game as a multi-faceted thing that required constant attention.
Jamie increased her pace, hoping the exertion would push thoughts of Chase out of her mind. She couldn't understand why she kept thinking about him. But maybe it was time to go home and find out.
Chapter 18
"You know how you always notice cars that are the same as yours on the freeway?" Chase was in his car talking to Danny Olman. "That's what I'm going through with Jamie, right now, man. She is everywhere."
"Yeah, I hear you," Danny sympathized. "I'm in line at the supermarket and some chick in front of me is talking about her going out with that douche from Isle."
They were both in their cars talking about Jamie because they were both on their way to Luke's house for poker night, and Chase had called to see if Jamie were going to be there. The answer had been no; as far as Danny knew, Jamie was still in Dublin shooting the video. Then, this morning, Chase was on Facebook and saw that Jamie had been tagged in a few pictures taken in London.
The last thing he wanted to do was to keep being reminded of his ex. And her new boyfriend. Although he did enjoy the headlines that came out after she attended his game accusing her of cheating on Sean, with him. With a wry smile, he pulled up to Luke's building...just in time to see Jamie getting out of a cab.
"Damn it," he mumbled under his breath. He may as well prepare to lose a lot of money tonight, because his concentration was going out the window. Chase took his time parking his car in a guest spot in the garage, wanting to give Jamie enough time to make it up to their apartment without him. Which meant, of course, that when the elevator opened on the main floor, Jamie was standing right there.
She was looking down, adjusting her suitcase when the elevator doors slid open. Her expression, when she finally saw him, gave Chase a small spark of hope. Because when Jamie saw him, she didn't really seem surprised, and smiled as if nothing had ever come between them.
"Hi," she said, her voice tired. "Is my brother hosting poker night?" Even with her hair pulled back and wearing little makeup, Chase couldn't look at her without wanting to stare, so he focused on watching the elevator lights light up.
"Yeah, he has the honors tonight." He looked at her suitcase. "Where are you coming back from?"
"London."
Chase was happy she spared him by not mentioning Dublin. "How've you been?" She was clearly trying to make small talk. "Oh, and I never thanked you for my brother's birthday. That was so nice, Chase."
He liked hearing her say his name. "No problem." Yeah, I always happen to have four floor seats, let alone for a venue that's not my home court, let alone Madison Square Garden.
The elevator doors slid open and he and Jamie reached for the suitcase. Their hands touched, and their physical connection was so strong that Chase had an impulse to kiss her right then and there. Instead he took the suitcase and held the elevator door for her. "After you."
Jamie walked into the apartment first. "Hey, guess who I ran into," she called out a little too quickly---as if she wanted to stop Luke from saying anything.
Luke and Zimmer looked up from the TV, game consoles in hand. "Hey, guess who's back," Luke called out to Jamie, then, "What's up Chase." Zim threw a "S'up" in their direction. Danny was in the kitchen getting a beer and threw Chase an apologetic look which he shrugged off with small nod.
Chase followed Jamie down the hallway and into her room. It smelled of Jamie, of her favorite lavender soap, and he was struck by how he would have known that scent anywhere. "Where?" he asked politely, and she pointed to the foot of her bed.
"There's isn't room anywhere else." she murmured. The room was sunny and bright, with sliding glass doors that led to a large balcony. But clearly, Jamie had not spent any time decorating, and the walls were bare. Instead, the color in the room came from the racks of clothes, purses and shoes that were stacked in neat piles all over the room.
"Wow, Jamie." Chase said, looking around in wonderment. He hadn't been inside her room since she had moved in. "Are you being paid in clothes?"
She laughed---the easy, natural laugh she used to share with him, and Chase remembered that one of the things he missed most was their friendship. To his surprise, she came forward and hugged him. He froze, unsure of what to do, and Jamie quickly let go, interpreting his stiffness as rejection.
"Well, thanks for bring my suitcase in," she said awkwardly.
The moment happened and passed so quickly that before he could explain, he was standing in the hallway, Jamie shutting the door quietly behind him.
A couple of hours later, Jamie emerged from her room, dressed comfortably in her sweats, her hair wrapped in a towel. "Hi guys," she said by way of greeting, heading straight for the fridge. After standing in front of the shelves empty except for last nights takeout, Jamie asked her brother hopefully if he had gone shopping. "Sorry, J," Luke answered. "I was out of town until last night myself." He pointed to the pizza box. "Do you want some pizza?"
Jamie opened the box and turned away. "No thanks."
"Tortilla chips?"
"For dinner?" she said good-naturedly.
Jamie walked back to her room and emerged a few minutes later with her hair out of the t
owel, jiggling her keys. "I'm going to get something to eat."
"Can you get us some more beer while you're out?" Danny asked.
"Sorry, Danny, I'm underage." She paused at the door.
"Luke, just give her your ID. Your picture could pass for a girl's." Zim threw in. Luke laughed sarcastically and flicked a chip at his head.
"I'll go." Chase found himself saying. He looked around, eyes pleading to his friends. "You guys OK with that?"
"Oh...ah, yeah," Zim pushed his chair back and stretched his arms out. "Let's take a break,"
"Sure," Luke said, not missing a beat. "I want to go back to kicking your ass on that video game, anyway."
Danny nodded vigorously. "Yeah, yeah...I really want some beer." Chase gave him a look that said he was being too obvious.
"Jamie?" Chase turned to her.
She opened the door. "Let's go."
Somehow, it didn't seem real to Jamie that she was sitting in a car, driving with Chase to get beer. He glanced over at her, causing her heart to skip a beat. Chase had a way of making her feel so cared for; even if it was just to look over at her to make sure she was OK.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Would you mind if we went to the market?"
"No, why would I mind?"
"Well, it might take time for me to get stuff we need, and I know the guys just want their beer..."
"You mean, we're going to need a cart?" Chase teased her.
"Maybe," she countered, then: "You're regretting this, aren't you?"
"A little bit, yeah." His smile contradicting his words. "Just don't get any feminine products."
"OK, now I'm the one regretting this." she said.
They drove along in easy silence. "How's your season been?" she asked him.
"Basketball wise, it's been great, but I could really do without the rookie hazing," he said. "I went from being a college rookie to an NBA rookie with only a year break in between. I feel like I've been everyone's bitch for years."