Ha. Look at all these models, such a waste of their time. I mean, come on. They’re obviously going to pick me. They have to…right?
Well, not necessarily.
I’m way too over-confident. These models look gorgeous! Everything I said I take back. I’m not worthy to be a fashion model. I looked down to my feet while I move up one in the enlistment line. One of my mother’s co-workers suggested me an audition to become a fashion model in New York, and since I do love wearing clothes and getting paid for just wearing them, I accepted the offer. Once she enlisted me and paid for my ticket on a first class trip to New York, I immediately felt happiness and joy. After college I had no idea what to do since what I majored in didn’t qualify for my dream job.
The building I entered was very fancy and high tech. The walls were entirely white, and gold was painted on the edges of the corners. The enlistment line was to choose the women who seem they have potential to become a model and to answer some questions. I looked around the room and saw that everyone else was wearing high priced casual clothes made in New York while I seem to be wearing peasant-like house clothes. That includes wearing a loose band t-shirt, shorts and converse. Hooray. The other women around me also are quite tall… I swear, when I turned around to look at the person behind me, I felt like an ant. I gripped my brown satchel with both my hands and continued to move along the line.
She also said that the judges were quite tough. I’m not sure if she’s trying to warn me or get me frightened. The judges were the only thing on my mind. Everything is fine, it’s just the judge. I was already afraid when the girl just right in front of me started crying after talking to the enlistment woman. “Next,” She called.
I stepped up forward and started shaking. “Uh, hi…” I greeted. The woman took a quick look at me and smiled.
“You know, darling, you have very beautiful eyes. Mr. Vargas loves women with charming eyes like that,” She grinned and quickly wrote something down. Who the hell is Mr. Vargas? “What’s your name, dear?”
“(First and last Name),” I replied. I gave a smile back and felt confident again. “And thank you for the compliment; Miss…” I quickly looked at her nametag. “Miss Hedervary.”
Miss Hedervary nodded and continued to ask me informational questions about myself until she gave me a gold slip and directed to where hair and makeup is just five floors upstairs. I quickly look back to see tens; maybe hundreds of other girls to be picked from. The gold slip in my hands tells me my entry number and who my hair dresser is. It appears to be a guy named Francis Bonnefoy. His name sounds really cool. At the bottom it also says that only ten participants get to be chosen to be judged separately with an interview with only one of the judges.
I reached the elevator and pressed floor number five when a man screams “Hold up!” He quickly pried open the elevator doors and stepped in. “I swear, goddamit, that these doors don’t wait a little longer.” He brushed off some dust from his expensive white suit and faced forward. I faced forward also and blushed a bit from his expression. I peered at him from the corner of my eye. God, he’s gorgeous. His dark brown hair seems so soft and luscious. Staring at his eyes is like looking at a second atmosphere. Oh how it would be amazing if you could feel his lips.
Focus; the floor is almost here. The elevator stops at floor four, and the man turns to look at me. “Thank you for not closing the elevator.” His voice is deep and very handsome. I just noticed that he had an odd thin curl coming out of his hair, almost like its natural. He steps out and continues walking right while the elevator door closes and goes a floor up. Once it reaches the fifth floor, I stepped out quickly and stood in line with twenty other girls waiting for their hair dresser to come out.
The wait was too long to even record. The security guard announces that the hair dressers were here. I looked up from my sleepy position, and at least fifty of them came out of the door. They were all gorgeous. The line starts moving again. I looked back and it seems that thirty more girls were behind me. I continued walking forward until the security guard asks for my golden ticket and I hand him it. He calls forth a man with long blonde hair that reaches his shoulders comes up. He smiled at me and held out his hand. “I’m Francis Bonnefoy, nice to meet you.”
I gladly shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too! I’m (Name),” He puts one of his hands behind my back and led me into one of the dressing rooms. Okay, the dressing room was way bigger than my own room. Francis told me to sit in the black chair while he sat in the one across from it.
“So… I can see that you’re nervous.” Francis rests his back on the chair.
“Is it really that noticeable?” I began to rub my hands together. Francis chuckled slightly to himself.
“(Name), I’m going to make you look like the most beautiful woman Lovino has ever seen.” Francis had confidence in his voice and persistence in his eyes. “I’ve known Lovino the longest out of all the other hair dressers here, so don’t worry if you won’t get picked. I’ve learned over the years what Lovino really wants.”
Francis told me to bathe in the bathroom with lavender scented soap while he goes on his lunch break. I didn’t have the urge to ask why, but I did have suspicion. Did he think I smell? About thirty minutes later, he comes back into the dressing room while I sit on the makeup chair in my white robe and my hair tied back in a ponytail.
“Now, let’s make you into something Lovino would want desperately,” Francis questioned himself while picking up the eyeliner.