Damn, give that chick a hairstylist and throw some makeup on her and she's hot as hell. When Sergio's assistant Amelie, what the hell ever happened to Emily that was a cute name, was removing my makeup I saw saw her when she stepped out of the wardrobe. Whem Amelie told me she was Brehan Locke I would have choked if there had been anything in my mouth. That was the same cute girl with the nasty ass attitude? Carl tapped me on the shoulder,
"The car will be here soon, we were driving around with a nail in the tire and the driver noticed it while he was waiting. They'll be done in a few minutes. They're changing it now." I nodded, now that I had something to watch I was in no hurry,
"That's cool no big deal. Just going back to the hotel anyway." She turned her back to the camera and turned her head around, down on her knees. She knew how to get a guy worked up, if this wasn't their best selling cover I will eat the whole damn magazine page by page. By far the best pose so far was when she wet the scarf and her nipples could be seen through the tiny thin material. Too bad it was too much for a magazine cover, but knowing Maxim it would definitely be inside.
A tall older guy with dark hair walked towards us with a cell phone in his hand,
"Who are you? You can't be here while-" Who the hell was this guy? Carl stepped in front of me and raised his hands to the guy,
"He's supposed to be here." That was it, Carl left it at that, not feeling the need to explain any further and make me look like I was somehow smaller than this guy,
"Brehan doesn't like a lot of people on the set." I looked over at her, straddling the tub, one leg in the other out as she lowered her body down, so it looked as if she was laying down,
"She doesn't seem to mind." I smile at Carl's response, I was thinking the same thing. Natalie stepped to the man's side and extended her hand,
"Hi Mr. Geddes, I'm Natalie McGill, I work for The Herring Firm, nice to meet you." He took her hand,
"Mr. Carter is one of our clients. He's with the Backstreet Boys." He looked over at me and didn't bother to smile, say hello or shake my hand. Ok, I get it, I'm nothng big in the world of fashion. He walked off and made his way back over to Brehan. Natalie turned to me,
"That's Steven Geddes, one of the masters of management. He'll kill for his clients, Brehan is one of the models he manages." I nod and watch as he hands her the cell phone that was in he his hand, she reached for it, not caring that once again her breasts were exposed for all to see. Someone, one of her many assistants I assume, followed behind her wrapping her in a thick terrycloth robe. Fritz called out,
"Ok, people that's lunch. Get the couch set ready people." Guess when the star had to take a call that held everyone up. It makes me wonder why we bust our asses to accomodate everyone else. Do this, it would be nice for the radio station, do that so matt Lauer doesn't have to wait, don't want to make him wait. It didn't matter, I can't be a real diva if I wanted, I would feel like shit making people jump through hoops for me like that. A little diva I could handle but I'm no Diana Ross or Mariah Carey.
I sat in a chair near the food service table and grabbed the bowl of grapes that I'm sure I have almost single-handedly ate. I looked up to see her standing before me in her robe. I take a deep breath and bite the bullet,
"Sorry about earlier. Thinking you were a fan." She looked at me, her face scrunched up like she was smelling shit,
"Women you don't know are not referred to as baby. You have a lot of growing up to do kid." With that she walked off with a bottled water. What the fuck? Here I am trying to be nice and this chick acts like a total bitch. That's two, one more time and who knows what the hell I may say or do to her stuck up ass.
"Nick, the car is out front and waiting." I nod and follow him across the room towards the exit. I couldn't help but make my way over to Fritz, who was talking to Brehan and her personal robe carrier,
"Thanks for the shoot Fritz, it was the easiest I've ever had." She stood there, arms folded, as she waited for me to clear the area so she could get all the attention again,
"It was a pleasure Nick. Anytime you need it." I noticed my presence had an effect on her assitant,
"Hi, I don't believe we've met. I'm Nick. Carter." She looked up to see that I was talking to her and was visibly shocked,
"Um, hi I'm Pam, Pamela, but they call me Pam. You can call me Pam." I glanced over at Brehan, who wasn't pleased to say the least, that I caused her assistant to come unraveled,
"Pam, it was nice to meet you baby." I winked at her and walked off not bothering to look at Brehan. I didn't have to, I knew she was pissed beyond words. My use of baby worked and I didn't pay any attention to her, oh she was about to explode, I'm sure of it. Probably reacting the same way I do when the other guys get more fan attention than me. I know it shouldn't bother me, but deep down, it bothers me a little.
Ten minutes after we arrived at the hotel I was sitting in my room eating my healthy meal when there was a knock on the door. I took another bite as I stood and walked over to the door. A guy can't even eat in peace,
"Nick, what's up?" I quickly step aside to avoid being run over by Kevin and Howie,
"Nothing, what's up with you?" They shook their heads and made themselves comfortable. It didn't bother me when Howie did it because I did it to him all the time but Kevin would have went into a conniption,
"Why don't you come with us tonight Mr. 50 Most Beautiful People." How in the hell did they know? I didn't even know what the photo shoot was for until I got there. All I need is more ragging like the first time I made the list, or when I won Best Hair over in Europe. That was like six years ago and every now and then when I drastically change my hair they still bring it up. If I don't let them know it bothers me they won't keep mentioning it, I tell myself,
"Where are you going?" Howie smiled at me and I knew it was somewhere I did not want to go. Hell, these two were going that let me know right off the bat I wanted nothing to do with it,
"It's the last night of Fashion Week here in LA." I groaned, they know better, they abso-fucking-lutely know better,
"No, uh-uh, no way." Kevin sat down, silently approving of my healthy meal of choice, chicken caesar salad and tomato soup,
"Come on. Beautiful models on the runway?" Oh, if that was supposed to entice me into going it backfired big time, if there was a tiny bit of hope that I would go it was destroyed when he said models,
"I don't want to go. Sitting and watching people wear clothes. How boring is that? And having to always smile and clap cause you don't want the camera to catch you ragging on some designer's stuff. Nope." They kept trying but I didn't budge and they finally gave up after I told them I would,
"consider going to the afterparty later that night."
Chapter 6
Stranger Than Fiction
Stories
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