Thigh Highs

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Thigh Highs Page 13

by Katia Rose


  I draw in a breath. “It’s a privilege to be considered for this, but as someone with little modelling experience, and a much stronger background in advertising, I think I’d be better suited to being involved with the campaign in a different way. I’d be thrilled to share my ideas and work with other team members, but personally representing the brand online isn’t the kind of job I’m looking for.”

  I swear I almost hear Harry sigh as he shoots a look at Jim. “That’s not what we have available, but thank you for coming anyways.”

  The sentence sounds final, but I’m not ready to give up on worming my way into a job here. “If you find a model that suits the campaign but lacks the advertising skills you’re looking for, I’d be happy to help develop social media material with her directly.”

  “We want someone who will model and come up with their own materials. Not to be inconsiderate, but that’s the entire point of the position, Miss Dominguez.” Harry sounds even testier now.

  “Then I thank you for considering me, but unfortunately, the role isn’t what I’m looking for.”

  I stand up and approach the table, offering a handshake to each of the three men before walking out the door.

  I feel the tips of my ears burning as I cross the waiting room filled with girls and step out into the hall. I don’t think models are unintelligent, and for the right kind of person this job would be a dream come true, but I can’t help feeling insulted that they offered it to me. The point of the showcase was to promote my progress in advertising, not how good I looked in lingerie. The fact that P&T doesn’t want my ideas unless they come with my body shows exactly how much they think those ideas are worth.

  I almost pull out my phone to text Aaron. I know he’d come up with exactly the kind of one-liner I need to hear right now, one that would make me feel like strutting out of this place and flipping it the bird with a smile on my face. Then I remember that I can’t text Aaron, and that everything he said about this interview, everything I tried to ignore, was completely true all along.

  My anger chomps at the bit, trying to escape the control I’ve bridled it with. I still hurt when I think about him, but I’ve been channelling all those emotions into my drive to make this interview a success. Without that outlet, losing whatever it is I thought we had threatens to turn me into Coach Kelsey’s raging bull analogy.

  I pause in the hallway when I hear someone calling my name. Turning around, I find Jim Sanders walking up to me.

  “Glad I caught you,” he says. “May I have a word?”

  “Sure,” I answer, wondering what else he could have to say to me.

  “My office is just to the left.”

  I enter the large space with an all-glass back wall that gives an impressive view of the downtown core. Jim offers me a leather chair and takes a seat behind his dark-stained wooden desk.

  “I’m hoping you’ll reconsider your decision,” he begins.

  I consider telling him he’s wasting both of our time, but I decide to keep hold of my professionalism.

  “As I said, I appreciate the offer, but I’m looking to be more involved in the ad development process.”

  “If I can be frank with you, Miss Dominguez?” He tilts his head in question and I nod. “You aren’t yet finished with your advertising program, and you have little to no practical experience outside of that. At this point, you’d be hard pressed to find even an unpaid internship. I’m not saying you’re unskilled—quite the opposite, in fact— but this is a cutthroat industry, and you’re at the very bottom of the ladder. I’m offering a paid position at one of the most prestigious firms in the country.”

  “As a model,” I can’t help but add.

  “As a brand representative,” he corrects. “The job may not be exactly what you’re looking for, but it can open doors. I can open doors.” He gives me a knowing look. “If your creative work on this role is up to par, it could lead to something else in the company.”

  “If I could be frank, Mr. Sanders, is the company really going to be interested in my capabilities as an advertiser if it doesn’t involve me being in front of a camera? I need to do what’s in the best interest of my career in the long run, even if it means passing up an opportunity that could help me in the short run. I can’t afford to be sidetracked by a job that might benefit me, without having some kind of surety that it will.”

  “Are you asking me to guarantee you another job?”

  Instead of answering, I give him a question of my own, one that’s been in the back of my mind since the first email I got from him. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so interested in me filling this role?”

  I catch his eyes roaming over me and expect some kind of response about my ‘aesthetic,’ but his answer surprises me.

  “You have the potential to do well in this industry, and I think you could be a valuable asset to Palmer & Turquot. This is the only way I can offer you an ‘in’ right now.” He must see how taken aback I am, because he leans forward and smiles. “I can’t give you the kind of surety you’re looking for at the moment, but you have my interest, and in this company that means a lot.”

  I know he’s right. I also know that if I take this job, I’ll be able to kick its ass no problem. I haven’t even seen the products and I already have several strategies in mind, but there’s no guarantee those ideas will even be considered, never mind accepted.

  “Are you really going to be able to asses my worth as an advertiser based on a few Instagram shots?”

  “If you’re as good of an advertiser as the ones we need here at P&T, then yes. Bottom rung, Miss Dominguez. Even as an intern you wouldn’t get much more decision making power than this. I’m giving you a chance to start your climb.”

  That’s more than I can say about any of the other firms I’ve contacted. I’ve tried to stay positive about it, but the fact that I’ve only gained a single opportunity so far still stings. P&T might not be what I had in mind when imagining where the showcase could get me, but they’re the only thing stopping my life from turning into a total let-down right now.

  I think of Aaron and my fists clench. There’s been a lot of letting down lately.

  “How many hours a week?” I ask.

  Jim smiles even wider, the satisfaction of knowing he’s won etched into every line of his shark-like grin.

  “Most of your work will be done from home. The campaign will run for three months. It’s not a full time commitment, so it should only be about fifteen hours. You’ll need to come in here or on location for a photo shoot about once a week.”

  “And the pay?”

  “Above average.”

  He gives me a number and I do my best to hide my shock. If he’d mentioned the salary earlier, I might have been a bit easier to convince. I’ll have to cut back on my freelance work to do the job, but the money will more than make up for that.

  I draw in a breath and let it out, counting to ten before I answer.

  “Alright. I accept the position.”

  Jim chuckles. “You don’t quite have the job yet. We’ll need to take a few photos and submit them to the client for approval. We’ll do that now, if you’re ready.”

  I nod and we head back to the room from earlier after Jim fires off a text on his cell. When we approach, a group of dejected looking models are filing out of the room.

  “You heard me,” ushers the clipboard guy. “They’ve made their choice. Sorry, ladies.”

  “I didn’t even get to audition!” I hear one of the women complain to the girl next to her. “We waited for two hours. The least they could do is see everyone.”

  They turn to stare as Jim leads me inside. I feel mental daggers being thrown at my back as we pass.

  Inside the audition room, I’m asked to stand in the makeshift photography studio while the photographer snaps a few headshots and full body length photos. I’m glad this particular shoot doesn’t actually involve standing around in a swimsuit, but I know I’ll have to get used to the idea.<
br />
  As the photographer gives me a few words of instruction on where to look and how to pose, I can’t help but picture Aaron duck-walking around in his underwear. When shooting with him, sometimes I forgot the camera was there at all. I’m painfully aware of it now, standing rigid and awkward as Jim and his two carbon copies look on.

  The ordeal is over with after a few minutes, and Jim tells me he’ll set up a meeting with an HR rep sometime this week so I can complete the hiring process. He seems to think it’s guaranteed the client will approve me.

  When I finally make it back to my car, I notice a voicemail alert on my phone. I check the number. It’s from Aaron.

  He hasn’t contacted me since I discovered the photos, and to be honest, I didn’t expect him to. There’s not much else to say. Curiosity, combined with a longing to hear his voice that I try to convince myself I don’t feel, gets the better of me and I hold my phone up to my ear.

  “Christina. Hi. Um, it’s Aaron, but you probably know that already. I’m sorry I took so long to call. I’m sorry I reacted like that when you found, uh, the pictures. You have to understand that it took me completely by surprise. Tiff—that girl, she’s not something I ever...So few people actually know...Look, I’m doing a bad job here. I care about you, though. Like, really, really care. Everything I said was true. I’ve always had a thing for you, Dominguez, but these past few weeks I just find myself thinking about you all the time. I know you had that P&T interview and I’m worried about you. Can you give me a chance to explain? This is really cliché, but the whole thing with the photos isn’t what it seems. I just need a chance to see you, to tell you the whol—”

  The recording times out, cutting him off mid-sentence. I’ve never heard him sound that scattered before, so unsure of himself. I can picture him pacing around his apartment and tugging at his beanie while speaking into the phone.

  The image doesn’t bring forth any sympathy in me, though. The message just shows what a douche he really is. Even in the throes of distress, the best he can come up with is telling me he’s always had a ‘thing’ for me, like some kind of smug high school heartthrob trying to score with a freshman.

  And he’s ‘worried’ about me because of the interview? ‘Interested’ would have been a better choice. ‘Curious about the results’ could have worked. ‘Worried’ just implies that he doesn’t think I can make the right decision, that I’m too naive to do this on my own.

  Part of me knows I’m nitpicking, that it’s easier to find reasons to be mad at him than to let the pangs of longing I felt throughout his message swallow me up. Every part of me aches to be with him, even if it was something as simple as sitting next to him in my car. The sight of Aaron Penn used to fill me with nothing but frustration, and while he never stopped making me want to pull my own hair out, I was starting to feel other things whenever he walked into the room: a rush of both excitement and confidence, an easing in my chest that meant I was safe, no matter what the world was going to throw at me.

  I know what I saw, though, both in that closet and in his face when I questioned him about it. Whoever she is, he loves her. That kind of love doesn’t leave room in your life for anyone else.

  14

  Man in the Middle

  “The best way to get over one man is to get under another.”

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  I watch as Alice touches up her lipstick in my bedroom mirror. We’re both dolled up in heels and short skirts, waiting for Sexy Carl and his older brother to come pick us up for the double date Alice planned.

  “You’re all mopey, which was fine for a few days, but prolonged dejection is not a part of the Christina Dominguez I know and love. You just got a job with Palmer & Turquot, for god’s sake. We have to get you to lighten up.”

  “And you think your new boyfriend’s brother is going to be able to do that?”

  Alice gives me devilish look. “If he’s anywhere near as good as Carl in bed, then yes.”

  I’m really not looking to sleep with anyone right now, even as a casual hookup, but Alice is right: I’ve been mopey. A social outing of any kind might be what I need to get me back on my game. Plus, Carl’s brother is also an advertiser and graduate of our program, with a few years’ experience in the field. At the very least, it will be a chance to network.

  “And no turning our date into a networking opportunity,” Alice chides, as if reading my thoughts. “There will be no mixing business with pleasure.”

  “Trust me,” I sigh, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Alice pats me on the shoulder. “Come on, mopey. Carl just texted me that they’re here.”

  Two hours later, I’m sitting in a booth with Dean, my date for the evening, as Alice and Carl wait at the bar to get themselves another round. I’m still nursing my first gin and tonic while shooting daggers at Alice’s back. From the wink she gave me when getting up, I know she only left to give me and Dean some time alone.

  The gene pool seems to be a good one in the boys’ family; Dean certainly also deserves to have ‘Sexy’ as his nickname. With a chiselled jaw, aquiline nose, and perfectly sculpted black hair, he looks like a Grecian statue brought to life. He’s also charming without being creepy, intelligent without being irritating, and funny without being obnoxious. He interned at Summit Strategies before getting a permanent position with the firm, and seems dedicated to his job without letting it take over his life.

  He’s basically my man-in-the-middle personified, and it’s making me hate him.

  I should be all over this guy. I should be hanging on his every word and already planning our second date. He ticks off almost every single box on my potential boyfriend checklist. I’m sitting here next to the Mr. Perfect I’ve been searching for, and yet I just feel so bored by everything he says.

  Alice and Carl come back, rescuing me from having to carry on with a direct conversation, and I excuse myself to the bathroom just as they’re settling down.

  I stare at myself in the mirror. Some sort of impending crisis is coming on, bubbling inside me like a volcano about to erupt. I can’t shake the feeling that Dean’s entire existence has been conjured up by Aaron just to mock me. I can practically hear him speaking in his cockiest tone:

  Here’s Mr. Right for you, Dominguez. Oh, what’s that? He’s not so right now that you’ve had a taste of the Penn?

  I don’t know whether I want to laugh or smash something. What I do know is that sitting next to Dean and feeling absolutely no interest has made me realize something about what I used to be looking for in a guy.

  All those traits I wrote on my Venn diagram were things I value in myself, things that I strive to be. I wanted to be with someone on who was on my level, and would always keep me pushing to reach the next one up. I thought dating someone equal to me meant dating someone identical to me.

  I see the problem with that now, though: there’s nothing to learn. There’s no room to grow and expand, nothing to be gained from being with someone who sees the world exactly the way you do. Relationships require contrast as much as compatibility. Someone who shares all your flaws will be just as blind to them as you are. You need someone who can see your weaknesses and challenge you to overcome them, someone who can help you find the strength in yourself that you may never have noticed on your own.

  Aaron Penn is my opposite in so many ways. He’s irreverent when I’m serious, immature when I’m doing my best to adult, but he’s also calm when I’m stressed and positive when I start drowning in negatives. He makes me feel good about myself, like everything I accomplish matters. He forces me to smile when it’s the last thing I want to do, but the only thing I really need.

  “Foda-se!”

  I slam my palms onto the bathroom counter just as a middle-aged woman opens the door. She glances at me and then quickly averts her eyes before ducking into a stall.

  I turn the water on and wash my hands, just to give myself something to do for a minute while I col
lect myself enough to go back to the booth.

  If Aaron was so perfect for you, I tell myself, things wouldn’t have ended like this.

  Back at the table with Alice and the Sexy Brothers, I do my best to keep up with the conversation, but I barely contribute more than a few words.

  “So Christina,” Dean says, turning to me, “Alice was telling me you’ve starting working with P&T.”

  “Yeah!” Alice gushes. “It’s a major opportunity. I can’t believe you didn’t tell him yet, Christina.”

  “I wouldn’t really call it major,” I correct.

  “I think anything with a giant like P&T counts as major,” Dean says with a smile. “But didn’t you mention Epsilon as one of your dream firms? I don’t mean to sound critical, just curious, but aren’t they sort of opposite ends of the spectrum?”

  I know he’s just making conversation, but I’m really not in the mood to have my own doubts thrown at me by someone else.

  “I’m just gaining experience,” I say evenly.

  “Do you think a firm like Epsilon would see experience with P&T as a favourable thing?”

  This dream guy is getting less dreamy by the minute.

  “I need to start somewhere, and like you said, regardless of their reputation, P&T is a major starting point.”

  I try to hide how annoyed I am behind a smile, and do it well enough to convince everyone but Alice. She kicks my foot under the table.

  “Should we get the bill?” she asks. “There’s this other place down the street Carl and I were talking about trying.”

  I make a show of checking the time on my phone. “Actually, I might have to head out. I have my first day on the job tomorrow.”

  It’s not even a lie. I really should try to get a good night’s sleep tonight. I order an Uber home and we exit the bar. Alice pulls Carl down the street after saying goodbye.

  “You can catch up with us later, Dean. We’ll just be one block down.”

 

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