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“Marco won’t let you near her, you know?”
“Mother!” she cried, raising her voice, drawing unnecessary attention her way.
“Can we not do this?”
“Oh, now you want a mother,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“I just want you to give me her phone number,” Chyna countered, ignoring her previous statement.
“Why should I do that?” Andrea asked her point blank.
Chyna sighed and stared at the ground.
She knew where this was going. She couldn’t be hard, edgy Chyna in this situation. Her mother knew her too well.
She had, kind of, raised her, and Chyna had gotten a lot of her bite and attitude from the person sitting next to her.
Everything else she had was from her father, and Andrea knew how to get around him better than anyone. Andrea also hated it more than anyone, so Chyna needed to be someone else.
“Because I need it,” she finally said. “I need her number because Marco won’t give it to me. He doesn’t want me near another designer. He thinks he owns me.”
It was mostly the truth, and it sounded like something her mother could sympathize with. It wasn’t like she was going to go around telling Andrea what had really gone down.
“Sounds like a typical male designer,”
Andrea said with a snort at the end for extra emphasis.
“Self-indulgent, egotistical, demanding, self-righteous… assholes. I’d love to eliminate the whole lot of them.”
Chyna laughed at her mom’s perfect description of Marco. It was like she had experience with these types of men or something. Well, she probably did.
“Fine,” Andrea finally said. “Just because I know the situation you’re in.”
She pulled out her phone and handed the number over to her. “I’m still in contact with her some. Sweet girl. So much like her mother. I bet she’ll be in New York for her line reveal in two weeks,” she threw out offhand.
“Thank you,” Chyna said, grateful for the shred of mercy her mother had shown her. It was the most she had seen since she and her father had given Chyna her penthouse.
***** Hiding from the constant stares the next four days was harder than Chyna had thought possible. It was a strange feeling to go from being well known to being an overnight celebrity in her hometown.
Alexa had the decency not to bring it up.
She was laid back enough to not care that her best friend’s face was plastered around the city. In fact, the only time it had come up, Alexa had just shrugged her little shoulders and told her she had assumed that was why Chyna was in Milan in the first place. Alexa certainly had more faith in her newfound supermodel status than Chyna did.
She hadn’t ever realized it would be that different, but she had lost all anonymity with Marco’s cover spread. It was infuriating. She just wanted to move on; she wanted to forget. But, her face was everywhere. And she couldn’t avoid the heated f**k-me eyes she was sending Marco’s way or the dress he had originally created for her to wear to Glam Ball.
When she had seen the photo that Marco had chosen, she’d had to grab onto the bus stop for support. She knew that picture. Marco hadn’t been satisfied with the quality of the photo shoot one day, so they had played around with lighting and camera angles back at his apartment all afternoon. The picture plastered all over New York was her seduction. It had never been meant for anyone else’s eyes. No wonder everyone was eating it up.
At least, Cassandra Corsa was interested. She had seen the spread— everyone in the fashion world had at this point—and was willing to meet with her.
She was still in Italy on business after the Glam Ball. She sounded surprised that Chyna had already returned to New York since most of Marco’s girls usually spent the final two weeks of the summer at the beach together, finalizing deals for modeling jobs in the fall. Thankfully, Cassandra hadn’t asked any questions.
Chyna was hoping that her offer was still on the table. Cassandra had made it seem that way at Glam Ball, but that had been a different time. Chyna couldn’t even let herself worry about that. Remaining positive was key.
In fact, she was just ready to get back to her old life. She was pretty sure she was already beginning to fool Alexa. That was all she needed right now. She would get this new modeling job, exactly what she deserved, and things would go back to normal. She was sure of it.
As soon as Chyna made it up to the VIP area in her favorite club, she took her dark Ray-Bans off and pulled her long black hair down from the loose ponytail at the base of her neck. Recently, it had been easier to hide behind her glasses. No one in VIP would say anything though. She was secure in her identity here.
The club was packed, and she had to fight her way through the club, even in the VIP section. It was much more crowded than normal for a Thursday night, but she appreciated the cover that gave her. Plus, it meant it was more likely that she didn’t know everyone. She was ready for some normal. She wanted to prove Alexa right.
The bartender had two shots of tequila waiting for her when he saw her approaching the bar. God, she loved him!
She had been gone for two months, and he still knew exactly what she wanted. At least one man did.
She took one after the other, appreciating the never-failing bite as it burned its way down her throat. The lime that she chased it with had never tasted so refreshing. She took the martini from the bartender and left the bar to scope out the scene. A group of girls in the corner waved her over. She recognized one or two from the private school she had attended during middle and high school.
They weren’t her favorite people in the world, but she was looking for normal after all.
“Chyna Van der Wal,” the first one said, standing uneasily with her drink in hand. She threw her other arm around Chyna’s shoulders. She was nearly as tall as Chyna with long, wavy blonde hair and a snooty upturned nose. Her parents had old, old money, and she let everyone know it. “It has been too long.”
“Totes true,” the second one chimed in. She had a round face with a short chin- length brown bob and dimpled cheeks.
She looked like she had put on a few pounds since high school and was hiding it behind her boob job.
“Good to see you, Layla,” she said to the blonde. Then, she turned to the brunette. “You, too, Amy.”
The two girls scooted their friends over to give Chyna room to join their group. Feeling obligated, she sat down.
