We arrived at McCarran International and my first stop was to the bathroom. I just can�t get over this thing I have about airplanes. To me they are just like hospitals, both are festering with disease. I pulled a cleansing cloth out of my carryon, which was nothing more than a large overpriced bag, and blotted my face, neck and cleansed my hands. After reapplying my makeup, touching up my perfume and a brush through my hair I walked through the airport feeling like a human being. I can�t help but smile and shake my head no one should be surprised to see several casino areas and more slots than the mind can imagine in the Vegas airport. It wasn�t enough for pathetic losers to squander all their life savings on the Strip, they had to gamble their leftover cab money on the way out of town. I never understood the appeal of risking your money but I had no problem watching some big roller wins hundreds of thousands of dollars and then spend a considerable amount on me as a reward for being his good luck charm.
What could be considered my good luck charm was around my neck and I pulled the diamond butterfly from side to side on my necklace as I watched Pam walking towards us waving her hand frantically like some mother hen. She was making a futile attempt to look like she had some style instead of looking like plain Jane. Before her plain Jane phase she looked like a damn homeless child. �Pam, if you�re going to work for me you will make changes to your wardrobe. I will not allow you to be around me looking a fucking mess. You are, unfortunately, a representation of me.� When I told her that, she actually wrote it down as if she couldn�t understand I meant she looked like shit, get a makeover.
Pam was�actually I don�t know how old she is but she seems to get alcohol without a problem. She stills lives with her parents and never went to college. She whined once about finding herself but I don�t know what she was going to find picking up my worn thongs and buying my personal hygiene items.
�Hello Brehan.� She knew to address me first, �Hi Marti.� They exchanged pleasantries as I waited, too damn long, to be led to the car,
�Your luggage isn�t here yet. It should be here soon.� I was wearing heels. Does this brainless wench actually expect me to stand here and watch luggage come down a chute and go around in a circle?
�The car. I will be waiting in the car.� Pam is starting off on the wrong foot. Father or no rich father she was about to he disposed of quickly if she didn�t get her act together. I�ve been entirely too nice to her and Cori over the past couple of months. My challenges with Steven have taken my attention away from making sure they were the right kind of assistants.
�Sure, right this way.� She took my bag from my hand. Had she heard my disapproval with her behavior? Does she realize she has left me quite dissatisfied lately? The driver opened the door to a shining black limousine, tipped his hat and smiled all at the same time as climbed inside. Marti followed me and Pam let me know that she was going to wait for our luggage,
�No really? I thought you would like to join me for a drink.� I spat at her as I rolled my eyes and reached for whatever was in the bar. Marti made her way to the door,
�I think I�ll go wait with you. Besides, I need to hit the restroom.� Suits me just fine. If I had thought of it I have the riding in a separate car.
I was in the middle of a small room that thank God was for nothing more than for me to freshen up and change for the press conference when Pam handed me my phone out of my bag after I asked her for it. I listened to the seven messages I received while I was en route from one airport to another. Please let one of them be Steven. I don�t care about anything, nothing bothers me, and nothing hurts me. The only thing that matters, makes me emotional, really that makes me a basket case is Steven. Message number one was from Mark wondering where I was, the second third and fourth were from random acquaintances of mine in the fashion world, the fifth was from Cheryl telling me was off to Chicago again, something about Harris� latest club venture. The sixth was from Juliana graciously telling me that Evelyn�s lawsuit and restraining order was beginning to make the rounds in the bathroom scandal trail and it wouldn�t be long before instead of talking aloud people began to write aloud in gossip columns.
That was just fucking great. That was all I needed. If this got out by the time Steven returned from Europe his name will have been in the gossip pages and for nothing good. He wasn�t going to like that and our fresh start would be ruined before it had a chance to officially begin. Steven was an asshole. I know that. Do people actually think I don�t know that? We all our. We�re just assholes about different things. Steven prefers perfection because it leads to success he once said.
He wants to be successful and he wants me to be successful. He wants what is best for me. I know that. Getting me this job with Good Morning America was just an example of how much he cared for me. Something like this gig could make me a household name. In this day in age a girl has to have more going for her than the catwalk if she wants to be a supermodel. There are many now. There was Giselle, Tyra and Heidi. No one else fit the supermodel title and I want to be the next. Steven wanted it too. Anytime there was anything that would be a prime job he made sure I had it. Not the other models he managed, but me because he loved me.
My seventh, and last call, was from the kid. I hadn�t heard from him in a while it seems. One can only imagine what silly little rock star thing he was doing. He was already in Vegas and wanted to hook up. Eventually Id get around to him. I�d probably see him at the party tonight. I�ll just look for him then. Actually, I�ll make Pam hunt him down and bring him to me. Its not like she was there to enjoy the festivities and its not like he was going to do anything better than hanging out with me. I can�t get over how boring he could be. Some fucking rock star.
The press conference and many small individual interviews were a joke and a royal waste of time. �Brehan, what are you wearing?� �Oh no, no. You�ll have to wait and see.� I say.
�Brehan, who�s your date?� �I�m alone. It�s so sad.� It was all a game and it was all disgusting. They didn�t give a damn about what I was wearing. They just wanted it to be hideous or glamorous. Either would do and they probably preferred the hideous. They should know not to wish for dreadful from me, I�ve never had a bad day in my life aside from waking up after a binge but those don�t count. And then there were the boyfriend questions. I can�t wait until I get to answer truthfully and shout into every television camera in the world that Steven is mine. Until then I have to deny the occasional rumors of relationships with men I�ve been seen with, who some I�ve actually slept with, and talk about how I just can�t find the right man.
Just when I thought I was on my way to get something to eat, and more importantly something to drink, Pam walks towards me with a camera man and some young hip chick with a microphone.
�Brehan, this is Maria. She�s with Entertainment Tonight. She wants a quick interview.� Maria steps up and smiles and she extends her hand,
�Hi Brehan. It�s a pleasure to meet you. It will be very quick.� I smiled and nodded my head,
�Hi, its not a problem.� She assured me it was going to be harmless that it was for a sound bite piece for ET on MTV and ET on VH1. Basically, it was for young people who wanted to see pretty faces, great clothes and fun events. Substance was not needed. I am guessing she thought this was going to put me at ease but newsflash to her no interview with a model was ever about substance.
Chapter 112
Stranger Than Fiction
Stories
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