Love is the New Black

by Chrissie Keighery

  Well, if he doesn’t like it, he can just go –

  ‘Piper!’ Angela had walked over from the reception desk. ‘Oh my god, this is sooo not Best and Less. Stand up!’

  Piper smiled. ‘Ta-da! What do you think, Angela? Do I look more Aspire-ish?’

  ‘I think you look more than Aspire-ish,’ Angela laughed. ‘You look like a goddess! Wow. The hair … the make-up … the dress!’ she enthused.

  Piper could see from her expression that Angela was being one hundred per cent genuine. And if there was a little bit too much of a surprised tone in her voice, Piper was totally willing to let it slide.

  ‘Unbelievably gorgeous,’ Angela continued, ‘but listen, Mason has been caught up on a call. He wants you to go up to his office and then you can exit the back way to the car park from there.’ Angela pointed. ‘Take the elevator; his office is in the top floor. You sexy thing.’

  In the elevator, Piper pressed the top button. She smoothed down the yellow dress and adjusted the jacket. The wedges were a bit higher than she was used to, but at least they didn’t push her forward. She so didn’t need to totter in front of Mason Wakefield. She was feeling pretty high after Angela’s reaction to her makeover, but the thought of delivering this new and improved version of herself to Mason Wakefield, as ordered, still rankled.

  As she exited the elevator, Piper stopped and steadied herself. She looked around the top floor of the Aspire building. To her left, at the end of the hallway, through a floor-to-ceiling window, the Yarra river looked picture perfect. In fact, you’d swear it was a picture except for the boats and people moving like miniature versions of themselves.

  Piper headed into what had to be the foyer of Mason’s office. Straight ahead of her was a glass desk. It was unattended, but there was a buzzer and a notice to press it upon arrival. Piper did so, and then walked over and sat down on the sinky-looking, soft white lounge.

  Behind the desk was a wall in what Dylan would have described as ‘wanky designer brick’. The door in the wall had a plaque on it that said Patrick Wakefield. Obviously Mason was using his father’s office. It was weird, the way he was tucked away up there in a turret away from his workers. Definitely arrogant, Piper concluded.

  A mirror panel ran on one wall. Piper glanced at her reflection and did a double take; her new look would take some getting used to. The hairdresser had chopped into her hair, giving it layers and body, while somehow managing to retain the length. The look was wild and tousled. The make-up woman had given her smoky eyes and burnt-orange lips. Despite still being a bit annoyed, Piper had to agree with Lucy – it had been pretty amazing to get a makeover like that. For the first time in her life, she had a tiny inkling of what it might be like to be a model. She couldn’t resist swishing her head around and making a sexy pout in the mirror.

  ‘Come in,’ Mason’s voice called from his office.

  Piper struggled out of the lounge and opened the office door.

  He sat at a huge desk, signing some paperwork. Behind him, the scene of the Yarra that she had glimpsed from the hallway became a panorama.

  Piper waited for him to lift his head. To see if Mason Wakefield might have just a tiny reaction to her, like in her dream.

  But when he did look at her, his face was hard to read. He didn’t seem to be reacting to her new look. In fact, if anything, he looked amused. Just a slight upturn of his mouth, a slight crinkling around the eyes.

  Lucy was right. This man clearly thought he operated outside all of the normal rules of propriety. Above mere mortals like herself.

  ‘Hi, Piper,’ he said, with a frustratingly cheeky grin. ‘Nice outfit. Very fashionable.’

  The more Piper concentrated on not tottering in her wedges, the more tottery she felt. They strode from the elevator towards a fancy silver convertible parked in a reserved spot. Piper couldn’t help doing a small eye-roll behind Mason’s back as he pressed the button to unlock it.

  Dylan’s car was a ute. Serviceable and practical. An honest car. Mason’s car was ridiculously ostentatious in comparison.

  Piper started to move around to the passenger seat, but Mason was there before her.

  He opened the door. ‘Madam,’ he said, as if he were a driver.

  ‘Who says chivalry’s dead?’ quipped Piper.

  She settled in the passenger seat and Mason drove out of the car park, putting on his sunglasses as they burst into the bright sunlight. Piper squinted for a while, then she leant down, fishing around in her giant handbag. It was no good. She’d forgotten her sunglasses.

  ‘Check the glove box,’ Mason said, looking in the rear-view mirror as he changed lanes.

  In theory, retrieving sunglasses from a glove box was no big deal. So the way Piper’s hand shook as she reached out, the way she fumbled with the catch, was frustrating.

  It felt strange too, when she finally managed it, putting on exactly the same pair of glasses as her boss. But then, the whole situation was strange. She was driving down the freeway in an outfit that probably cost more than she was paid in a month, catching glimpses of the ocean from an Aston Martin convertible.

  ‘They’re a good look for you,’ he said. ‘I think they warrant another Blue Steel moment.’ He jerked his head to the side and pouted, replicating the move she’d done outside his office.

  As horrified as she was, the fact that he’d referenced Zoolander, one of the funniest movies of all time, was pretty cool. And Mason’s smile – now, that was truly mesmerising. Something about that smile made him look younger, too.

  ‘I’m sorry, Piper,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘What the … how did you –?’ Piper choked.

  He laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle. ‘The mirror in the foyer,’ he said. ‘It’s a two-way.’

  Piper sank into her seat. ‘I am so humiliated,’ she said. ‘But just so you know, I do have other moves for different moods. Le Tigre is a personal favorite.’

  ‘Please don’t be humiliated,’ Mason’s smile was broad. His teeth were white and even. ‘You know, it’s great you’re coming on this photo shoot. You might be able to give those models a few pointers.’

  ‘Well, my poses have taken a long time to perfect. I’m not sure these models will have what it takes.’ She relaxed a little. It was good to share a joke. ‘So, is the car new?’ Piper asked.

  ‘It’s not mine. It’s my father’s,’ Mason answered.

  ‘Oh, and he’s on holidays, right?’ Piper said conversationally. ‘Where did he go?’

  Piper was probably imagining it, but it seemed like Mason’s jaw was suddenly clenched. His answer was a long time coming.

  ‘I don’t normally discuss his choices. It’s personal.’

  Piper felt her body stiffen. God, this guy is difficult. She wanted to shout, It’s a simple question. I was just making conversation. Suddenly, Piper felt like they hadn’t just shared a joke. More like the joke was on her. She crossed her arms.

  He was making it clear that she was not on his level. He could laugh at her and order her around, but she didn’t have the right to ask even the most basic of questions.

  ‘You know, I don’t normally change my appearance on demand,’ she snapped, uncrossing her arms and gesturing to the new outfit. ‘That’s pretty personal too.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but we’re in a shallow industry, Piper,’ Mason shot back. ‘Image is important. I make no apologies for that. When you’re out and about, you represent Aspire. The paparazzi have been tipped off today. They might be filming the shoot. Which means more exposure for us, more for the sponsor. Anyone who gets into the frame, male or female, accidentally or otherwise, has to look the part. There’s nothing personal about it.’

  Piper felt like she’d been trumped. She should have kept her mouth shut. It was harsh, but of course it was true. Her mum’s idea of business clothes was not the same as what you wore to a high-profile fashion shoot. Neither were the black miniskirt combinations she’d been coming up with.

&nbs
p; Why did I send that email? Piper wondered, a wave of regret hitting her. Is he going to sack me?

  She felt so confused – being with Mason was an emotional roller-coaster. He had seemed so friendly when they were eating pizza the other night, and just two minutes ago, they’d been laughing together. But he’d basically ignored her in reception the other morning. Now this. Why was he so hot and cold?

  ‘I … um … I overstepped the mark with my email,’ she said. ‘And with what I just said. It won’t happen again.’

  She hoped her tone was businesslike. She hoped he didn’t notice her left hand gripping the leather upholstery nervously.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ Mason said.

  There was another long, uncomfortable pause. Piper searched her mind for something to fill it. Definitely not Actually, I didn’t freaking apologise, which was the phrase on the tip of her tongue. She should say something sensible, something totally related to work and nothing else, to get things back on track.

  ‘So, what will I be required to do for Kara today?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll let you know.’ When he turned sideways to look at Piper, his face seemed softer. ‘She likes you, Piper. She thinks you’re down-to-earth. Maybe we’ll have to pay you a bit more.’

  This guy is infuriating, thought Piper, as Mason took a sudden turn off the freeway and pulled into a beachfront car park. The car came to a halt out the front of an old weather-beaten timber cafe.

  ‘We have arrived, Madam,’ he said, and got out to open the passenger door for her.

  Piper was glad Mason had been whisked away by two photographers just seconds after he’d opened the car door for her. Being around him was unsettling. Now, in the car park, she felt like she was returning to her senses for the first time since leaving the Aspire offices. There were so many vans and cars parked there, it was a bustle of activity. In one corner of the car park she spotted Larry, Kara’s bodyguard, leaning against a gleaming limousine. Nearby, there were men unpacking cameras and lighting equipment. A woman with a seventies-style afro struggled to push a clothes rack up a ramp to the cafe. Piper could only see the shapely legs of another woman as she lugged loads of colourful caftans over her shoulder.

  Once inside the cafe, Piper realised the shoot was actually organised chaos. People scurried in every direction, talking on mobile phones and giving directions. A tall, skinny man in a colourful sarong and a cropped grey fur coat had bailed up Mason, and the two photographers in the centre of the room, and was gesturing madly as he spoke. The sarong and coat combination seemed an odd choice to Piper but, as she had been bluntly informed, she wasn’t equipped to judge fashion choices. Perhaps it was a case of knowing what the rules were before you could break them. Piper figured he must be Mr Bojangles, the swimwear designer. Next to him, Mason looked conservative in both his looks and his manner. As much as Piper didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, he looked grounded and calm in contrast. Like everything was under control now that he had arrived.

  Piper pulled her eyes away and scanned the room. Cafe tables and chairs were stacked high in one corner. In front of them, loads of tables had been pushed together and stacked with beauty products. A make-up artist was applying foundation to an incredibly pretty boy’s chiselled features. Another had just applied false eyelashes to a bikini-clad model and was standing back to check they were attached properly, while the girl blinked. Two hairdressers worked side by side: one used a flat iron on one model, and the other used curling tongs on another.

  In one corner, a few sheets had been slung haphazardly, shielding only parts of an array of ridiculously perfect, half-naked female bodies in various stages of undress. Another gap showcased glimpses of men’s abs and torsos, some slim, some buffed, all completely and utterly toned. Piper did a double take as an impossibly gorgeous naked bum appeared in a gap as though demanding its moment in the spotlight. Piper couldn’t help staring, until it was covered with board shorts.

  ‘Checking out the scenery?’ It was Lucy, walking towards her. ‘Wow, Albert worked his magic,’ she said, motioning up and down at Piper’s new look. ‘You look hot, Piper Bancroft. What did Mason say?’

  Piper looked around to check Mason wasn’t nearby before she answered. ‘Apparently we’re in a shallow industry, so it’s necessary to dress appropriately,’ Piper said with a smirk. ‘Do I look shallow enough?’

  Lucy chuckled. ‘Hmm. Maybe get your nose done and come back to me,’ she quipped. Even though she was being entertaining, Piper could tell that Lucy was in work mode. She ran a finger over a list she had on a clipboard. Piper could see a stack of male names. Below each name was a list of what each model needed for their shoot, with clothing items and style numbers. ‘Last time I saw Kara she was in with the other girls. Just focus on looking after her, Piper. I’ve got to run. Got to dress the boys.’ Lucy looked over her shoulder and winked as she walked towards the male model area. ‘It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.’

  Piper grinned as she walked towards the girls’ section. She spotted Kara Kingston in a silver one-piece, cut away at the waist but held together at the belly with a single silver ring.

  The depressed, drunken Kara that Piper had encountered at the Langham was gone. This Kara was in confident-supermodel mode. Her smooth, golden skin glimmered as she ruffled her dark, cropped hair. Next to her, the perfection of the other girls was somehow diminished. Kara was freaking radiant.

  Piper felt foolish for even considering that Mason might think twice about her. This is the type of woman Mason Wakefield dates, the type who would land on his radar. Of course.

  ‘Piper, over here!’ Kara said, with a wave. As though there was any chance in hell Piper might not have seen her. Kara’s smile was dazzling; the gap between her front teeth was somehow a serious fashion statement. She glided over to Piper on red stilettos.

  ‘You look amazing!’ she said.

  ‘You should talk!’ Piper smiled. She loved her designer outfit, but it was no match for Kara Kingston wearing virtually nothing.

  ‘I’m so glad you came,’ Kara whispered.

  Piper felt her body relax. Even though Kara was impossibly stunning, and towered above her in all her long-legged glory, Piper remembered their time together at the Langham. Despite the fact that Kara looked alert and fabulous, there was still a vulnerability there that made Piper feel protective.

  Kara grabbed Piper’s arm. ‘Did Mase bring you here himself?’ she asked. Piper listened for a note of tension at the mention of Mason’s name, but could detect none.

  Piper nodded. ‘I’m on loan,’ she said.

  ‘I love your outfit,’ Kara enthused.

  ‘Apparently all my other clothes aren’t good enough,’ Piper said with a shrug. ‘I guess I’ll have to make this my uniform – there’s no chance I could afford another outfit like this. You know, wash it every night, pop it on the next morning and hope nobody notices the repeat.’

  ‘Not on my watch,’ Kara grinned. ‘I’ve got masses of clothes. Too many for me to ever wear. Come over to my place and I’ll deck you out, girl.’

  Piper bit her lip. ‘Seriously?’ she asked as a rack of clothes was rumbled past, and almost knocked Piper over.

  Kara tilted her head to the side. ‘Seriously,’ she echoed. ‘And if you’re on loan, I’ll have to make sure I return you undamaged.’

  Piper grinned. Models of both genders milled all about now. The boys wore very little, and most of the girls were dressed in swimwear and caftans with full hair and make-up. If Piper felt tiny before, she felt almost microscopic now they all had heels on.

  ‘Maybe just some small improvements,’ Piper said, risking a few quick points with her index finger. ‘A set of those boobs?’ she said. ‘Or that butt? Or that pair of legs? Honestly, any random combo would do.’

  Kara’s laugh was more friendly guffaw than a polite tinkle. God, how could someone so good-looking be so nice?

  ‘See, I knew it would help having you here,’ Kara s
aid. She put her hands together in prayer position. ‘Mase,’ she called out. Kara looked up to a mezzanine, where Mason was now looking down on all the action. ‘Thanks Mase, you sweetie,’ she mouthed, blowing him a kiss. Without a moment’s hesitation, Mason smiled at his girlfriend and replied to her kiss with a salute, as though she was the boss.

  It was frustratingly endearing.

  Whatever the fight that landed them in the tabloids might have been about, neither of them seemed to be holding on to it. Piper brushed the thought aside. It was none of her business.

  ‘So, what do you need me to do?’ Piper asked.

  Kara ran her fingers through her hair, somehow improving the tousled look. She pulled Piper away from the other models. ‘Just hang with me,’ she said. ‘And bring my dressing gown around with you. These shoots can get a bit … well, they can get icy.’ She lowered her voice. ‘It’s hard to explain. It’s just … well … things can get a bit hostile and catty at shoots like this. Sometimes I get the feeling that I’m being stabbed in the back, though I could be imagining it all. I get a bit paranoid. I thought it would be calming to have you here. To get your take on things. You know, the opinion of someone real.’

  ‘Okay,’ Piper said, though she really didn’t get what Kara was asking her to do. Be her hired bestie? Sometimes, she really didn’t understand this job at all.

  An hour later, Piper understood: She was a lackey, but Kara needed her support because it was a tough gig.

  She hugged Kara’s pink dressing gown to her. It was so cute that Kara obviously loved it so much, even though it was far from glam.

  The beach was wild and woolly, all jagged rocks and crashing waves. The sky threw different types of light in strands, from bright to muted and back again. Piper knew from photography classes at school that it would be hard to catch the right amount of light for the photos, but also that the different tones could help make the pics awesome. A photographer’s assistant, shoeless in the sea, held a white screen behind Kara.