I was a bigger model at size eighteen, but my curves were firm and sexy. My favorite look that I had was the highlighted loose curls that I’d given in to when I was young, highlighted in a soft honey shade, completely natural and wild. My sister shared my hair and taught me how to treat it and what products to use, and so far, it had done well for my modeling career. I also had some green eyes that while dark, could lighten depending on my mood. I wasn’t good at hiding my feelings about too much, and they’d flash as my voice started rising when I was irritated.
“Your skin is amazing. You look about nineteen!” The cute blue-haired artist told me as she brushed something over my broad cheekbones. I was twenty-six, so I liked that. “I barely need any foundation with this gorgeous caramel tone and I never say that.”
“Thanks,” I told her as my eyes darted to the mirror to make sure I didn’t look awful. I’d been zoning out since I got here, tired from staying out late with my roommate at a club opening the night before. We had stayed a bit later than necessary and enjoyed the free drinks more than I normally did.
I looked good, and she’d added some highlighter on my skin that popped out in an alluring way. It would look great with the slinky red dress that I was wearing tonight, and she’d done a great job darkening my eyes with smoky colors and great blending. “Ah, thanks. I like this. Can you do my face on a regular basis?” A lot of them took away from my skin color, and I would have to have them fix their errors.
“I’d love to. What do you think about a glossy red on these full lips? I hear you’re wearing a red dress tonight?” She asked, and I nodded as I raised an eyebrow. She giggled. “They tell me this stuff before the models come in.”
“I thought you were psychic,” I replied with a smile as she shook her head and grinned. “I like that idea.”
I was done within a few minutes, and I thanked her and headed to wardrobe as I tugged on the low messy bun that the man had done in my hair. It showed my curls but suited the dress, and I smiled as I pushed the door open and watched the madness for a moment. Models were running everywhere with clothes in their hands, and people were barking at them as I shook my head slowly. This was the reason I preferred solo work and photo shoots. I ran my hands down my yoga pants and stepped forward to the platinum blonde I’d spoken to earlier, who looked completely frazzled by this point. “Hi. I am here for my dress,” I told her as she asked me my name. “Trina James.”
Her tired brown eyes searched the paper on her clipboard, and she glanced up at me and pointed to the corner of the room. “Over there, number fifteen. There’s a place to change right there.”
“Thanks,” I told her as I smiled and turned to search the room with my eyes. The little curtained off areas weren’t the best conditions for getting some of the clothing that I’d worn on, but it was the nature of these events. I walked over to the spot where my dress was hung and stepped inside of the thin blue material as the noise level increased around me. I was quick to slide it on, and I made sure that it was covering everything before I stepped out, thought it was cut in such a way that it showed off all of my curves. I looked in the mirror and slipped my feet into the Louboutin heels that brought me from five foot nine to over six feet tall.
I needed some quiet, so I left the room to put on the black choker and earrings in the hallway as I reminded myself to never take a job like this again. Models were hard to deal with on a smaller scale, and this was chaos. I walked over to where we’d be entering the stage area, early enough to be on my own and find a seat as I prepped myself for this. These things were always bright lights and loud music, usually with a rambunctious audience that was drunk from the cocktails and little food they’d eaten over the dinner they paid top dollar for. I smoothed my hands over the top that was tied around my neck and cut daringly with a good tease of my cleavage. I knew not to mess with my face or press my lips together from the near ten years of experience that I’d gained, but I was nervous about this evening. I wasn’t sure just why, but my stomach fluttered as I heard other models approaching.
They were all dressed up in revealing dresses of various colors, and I had to admit that the designer had a good style about her. I’d opted to wear only one and be out of there since I wasn’t fond of the quick changes and Monica had grudgingly agreed. I might stick around in the back and check out some of the other clothes, but that was my limit. I wasn’t getting paid for this.
CHAPTER 2
The announcer stopped the music that was playing to announce the fashion show and the designer, Valerie Bacceli. She bounced by us, tiny and young in a black dress with an edge. She looked happy, and I smiled as she walked out and waved to everyone before answering the questions the man asked her. She was flustered and nervous and absolutely adorable. The crowd cheered obnoxiously, and I waited as they started calling our names to walk the long runway. I was the sixth model and walked out to a Sade song that I favored.