He rolls onto his back, balancing his wine glass on his abs, and looks to the ceiling.
“Tell me everything, one more time.”
“Ugh. Mateo.” I pretend to be annoyed. I’ve already gone through the entire story with him twice. Honestly, I think he’s using my narrative to role-play himself into my place, with a different ending that results in him and Luka fucking behind the restaurant in some bushes.
He knows I slept with Luka three years ago, and I’ve lost count of how many times he begged me to retell the story of that doomed escapade. He was ridiculously disappointed tonight when I got home and told him there’d been no sex.
“No sex” is Mateo’s most hated phrase.
“We went to dinner. We ordered pasta and sparkling water.”
“Eww. The water. Seriously.” His face scrunches up.
“I know. Anyway, he said he needs to clean up his reputation and get married to jack up his image. In return, he’d give me a contract to model for DRM.”
Mateo starts to speak, but I cut him off. “Do you think I should try to get another appointment, maybe with Stefan or something? I mean, this wasn’t even a real audition.”
He sits up and shrugs. “They hold two open calls a year, and this was number two.”
“It wasn’t an open call, though! It was a…spouse screening.” My heart sinks at the thought that I’ve missed my chance, again, to get a legit contract with the agency.
“Sorry, hon. Look on the bright side, though. You can totally wait around until next year to go crawling back and hope to God they like you enough to offer you a contract that won’t hold a candle to the insane deal Luka just tried to make you…or you can say yes right now, become Zoric royalty, and get famous by association so the next time the lease is up on this place, you can pay to keep it.” He looks at me pointedly and then says, “Your call.”
Then he looks away, pretending to inspect his nails nonchalantly, but it’s obvious which course of action he thinks I should choose.
“Funny. But it’s not like I don’t have other options. I had that audition for Maxilene cosmetics before I left LA, remember? I should be hearing from them soon.”
When the second largest cosmetics company in the world hosts an open call for models, you don’t run, you go super-sonic and get your ass there. I was the third in line and breezed through the audition, batting my lashes and smiling like a maniac while flourishing the tube of mascara they’d given me as a prop. Now if only they’d call me back.
Mateo’s got a curious look on his face, but maybe it’s the wine. He’s on his third glass.
“I’m telling you,” he insists, “there is nothing negative in the offer Luka made you. It’s all positive. All of it.”
“No, it’s not. He lied to me. He ghosted me. How can I trust him now? And why should I even want to help him after what he did to me?”
“He gave you the best fuck of your tender little life, you ungrateful wench. You could have that every day. Every. Day.”
I lie back dramatically and toss an arm over my eyes. “You don’t understand, Mat. I’m aging out. I don’t have much longer to make something of myself. You had your break and look at you now. I’m nearly out of chances.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re barely twenty-two. You have a bright, successful future ahead of you. And plenty of time to get there.”
“You don’t know that,” I say, my voice hitching with emotion.
There’s rustling beside me, and then the cushion sinks near my hip. I peek and see a wine glass thrust at me. Mateo holds it out impatiently. I sit and have a sip, and he looks pleased.
“It’s true that I have smoother, younger looking skin than you, Brookie. And I don’t have as much trouble staying in shape.” I roll my eyes as we bump shoulders good-naturedly. “But you have an amazing face and an incredible personality and a feisty attitude that has gotten you plastered all over this beautiful city. You’re a fighter, and believe me, you ain’t done fighting yet. Luka Zoric would be damn-ass lucky to have you.”
Slipping an arm around him, we side-hug, and I hand him back his wine. He settles onto the floor again, swirling his merlot and looking thoughtful. “Let’s just say—for the sake of argument—that getting married is your best option for breaking out right now.”
He side-eyes me and I groan. That’s his guilty face, which I don’t see often because Mateo rarely feels guilty about anything. “Why are you saying this?”
Mateo hangs his head in shame. “Okay, look. I wanted to hold off on saying anything until I knew more, but…I have good intel that Monica Shore had a private meeting with the head of Elite Image. Like, really good intel.”
“Dammit.” I put my face in my hands and silently scream into them. Once again, it’s just not going to go my way. “Do you think they’re looking at her for the Maxilene campaign?”
“I’m compelled to think so, considering that every other Maxilene model just so happens to have been an Elite girl.”
“Yeah. Everyone knows that.” I let out a big sigh.
Monica Shore is kind of a big deal. At one time, she had the new-age face that everyone talked about—huge, wide, otherworldly eyes, a delicate heart-shaped face, lips that would give Steven Tyler a run for his money. All she has to do is bat her baby blues and she gets signed every time. Rumor has it that she’ll stop at nothing to book the jobs that she wants, and from her impressive resume, I have to believe there’s some truth to that. She walked into Elite after a recent, messy split from her longtime former agent and I’m sure she walked out with a brand-new contract and the Maxilene gig to boot. No wonder I haven’t gotten a call back yet.
I shift my weight and look at the floor. The truth is, Elite Image is interested in me, more than I’ve let on to Mateo. He doesn’t know about the recent conversation I had with them…and what the results of that conversation were.
A pang of guilt goes through me. Sometimes I feel like I’m turning into the person I said I would never be. The one who does anything to get a contract.
The thought makes me feel a little sick.
It’s not like me to cry over my career. I learned early on that it left you with undereye bags for days and no resolutions. So I’m surprised when tears threaten. Holding them back is easy, but it bothers me that I’m now stressed to the point where tears are my only option.
Well, not my only option.
Maybe I should consider Luka’s arrangement. It’s just…I’ve never cheated my way into a job, and I’ve always been firmly against it. Sleeping your way to the top is commonplace in this profession, but it’s something I’ve avoided at all costs. Until now.
Brooklyn Zoric, supermodel.
It has a nice ring to it. A very nice ring.
I catch Mateo’s eyes. He looks smug, as if he’s reading my mind. “Just make sure the prenup includes a clause that says getting laid all the time is a requirement. Oh, and a guest room clause for your bestie.”
I huff a laugh. Yeah, right…like I’d actually go through with this. Although I can’t deny how hard my nipples get when I think about sliding into bed with Luka every night.