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“Do you ever model yourself?” I ask, trying to get some semblance of a conversation going.
She glances around the room at first like she’s wondering who I’m talking to. When she flits her beautiful eyes back at me, I cock my head to the side, waiting for her to speak.
“No…?” she says back like it’s a question.
“Well, you should,” I reply, getting out of my chair and onto my feet. “You’re really very beautiful.”
She actually blushes, glancing away shyly. “That’s nice of you to say. Thanks.”
We smile at each other, but then a loud banging on the door makes us both jump. A man barges in, thick, black-rimmed glasses on his face, wearing a very colorful rainbow jumper and green slacks.
“Time’s up, bitches!” he proudly announces. He then takes in what I’m wearing before sucking in a breath, placing his hand on his heart. “Simply fabulous, darling. Perfect color for the pool today. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky. Life is pretty perfect.”
I stand there enthralled and wonder if he’s going to burst into song at any moment, he’s so cheerful. At least it’s taken my mind off things for the few seconds it lasted.
Before I even have a chance to respond, he’s waving his hands at me. “Don’t stand there all day. Come, come… it’s time to let your gorgeous self shine!”
He then simply turns and leaves, causing Paris and I to glance at each other. I laugh out loud, and then she follows suit, her shoulders finally relaxing. Poor girl, must be so uptight from being late and shouted at. No wonder she’s on edge.
“I guess I better get going.”
Paris quickly nods. “Yes, best not to keep Wilfred waiting. He’s very flamboyant, but can also be a right bitch when he wants to be.” Her eyes then widen like she’s realized she’s said something she shouldn’t. “I’m… sorry,” she stutters. “I didn’t mean…”
I place my hand on her arm, interrupting her. “It’s fine. I promise I won’t say a word. Now, go snoop around in my kitchen for something to eat and drink. Relax for a bit. You look like you need it after the morning you’ve already had.”
She sighs in relief like that sounds perfect. “Thank you.”
I give her arm a little squeeze and leave her to pack, or whatever she still needs to do in the room. I descend the stairs and like a timid mouse, exit the living room doors which lead out to the infinity pool, its waters cascading with the illusion that it’s meeting the ocean beyond. Simply beautiful.
By the pool is a bar, several lounge chairs, and a camera crew of around six people all fussing around the equipment by the shoot-through umbrella.
I take in a nervous gulp, stepping forward, my legs unsteady with the shoes I’m wearing, knowing that each step will eventually alert them to my presence. After two more steps, the man I now know as Wilfred glances up, his smile wide.
“There she is… Queen Kendra of Los Angeles. Doesn’t she look beautiful, everyone?” He clasps his hands together, genuinely appraising me like a work of true, outstanding art. I assume Kendra loves this man, considering he has nothing but praise for her.
There I go again. Talking as if I’m a third person.
Four of the others simply stare, but a fifth guy eyes me like I’m his favorite lollipop that he’s about to lick all up. Creepy.
Laughing nervously, I approach the area under the umbrella, almost tripping over my own feet as I go. I’m way out of my depth here and it’s showing.
“What would you like me to do today, Wilfred?”
I’m guessing whatever it is, I’m not going to like it too much.
“Just be your natural, beautiful self, darling! The camera would love you even if you had a tin can over your head.”
Everyone laughs, so, timidly, I join in. I feel really out of my depth here.
A couple of guys take their places on either side Wilfred as he points a camera towards me. I cock one side of my lips up, wondering what I’m supposed to do next.
Wilfred, obviously sensing something’s wrong, places the camera down, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Are you constipated or something?”
Or something, definitely.
“No, it’s fine,” I reply, waving my hand like it’s nothing. Rigidly, I attempt to jut one hip to the side, my hand resting on my waist as I pout. Do I normally pout?
When Wilfred sighs, I know something’s up. “Has some halfwit entered your body this morning and now doesn’t know how to control it?”
