“I think I was just ready for something completely different,” I say, “and the opportunity presented itself at just the right moment. I have a pretty big social media network, so—”
“You’re like, an influencer or something?” she interrupted.
I shrug. “You could call it that. I promote modeling, some products, my photography. Over the years I’ve gained a lot of followers and eventually made some friends. People I chat with every day and share personal things with. This cute guy Mateo kept telling me I should fly out to LA for a visit. So, I went. And I’ve been there ever since.”
“Aww, how romantic.” The girl’s eyes light up. “So you fell for each other?”
I laugh. “Not in the way you mean. Mateo is more like…the best friend I never knew I had. We spent the weekend watching 80s movies, eating Mexican food, and drinking champagne out of plastic cups on the beach. When my Uber pulled up to take me to LAX, I realized I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to face another Chicago winter.”
“I hear you on that.” Marin nods sympathetically. “So you stayed.”
“Yeah. We found this French Normandy-style apartment building in West Hollywood, and it’s kind of falling apart, but…it’s just so beautiful there. People say LA is a city of cars, but where we live you can walk anywhere you’d want to go. And it’s always warm.”
“Sounds dreamy,” she says. “Do you book a lot of jobs there?”
I shrug. “Some. Not enough for rent though, so I waitress at a luxury supper club. But then I miss all the go-sees, since I can’t just call out every time something promising pops up.”
“Yeah,” Marin coos sympathetically. “I’m lucky I live at home and work part-time.”
“I just don’t want to waste my prime years hustling for tips when I should be focusing on my big break, you know? Mateo is a model too, and he does great, but I’m ready for it to be my turn. I’m glad I took the leap, and it’s been a ride, but I’m ready for what’s next. So here I am.”
Thinking of Mateo, I fight back a tiny pang of jealousy. He and I used to go to auditions together, and then one serendipitous job modeling for Lady Gaga’s makeup line tossed his career into overdrive. He’s in high demand now, with so many jobs on offer that he actually has to turn them down. I’m proud of his success, but it’s left me wondering if my own ship has sailed.
It’s also forced me to realize that I need to make a choice. I either go all in on modeling, do everything I can to break through, commit myself fully to this career path, or I need to suck up my failure and go to college, maybe apply to an art school for photography. Either way, I need to find something else to do with my life besides waitressing.
Luckily, I have some time to figure it out. Mateo decided to come to Chicago with me and leased an apartment here in Wicker Park. Hopefully, I can make something happen.
I’m curious about something. “How did you find out about this audition today?” I ask.
“My friend’s agent told me,” Marin says. “She said it wasn’t a standard casting call, but she couldn’t provide a lot of details. It’s KZ—I mean Danica Rose—so of course I came, details or not.” She lowers her voice. “Word on the street is, they’re hungry for new faces.”
“Right. I figured as much. Though I don’t see any men here.”
Marin shrugs. “They probably do the calls for the guys separately.”
“Hmm. I guess that makes sense.”
The friend who’d tipped me off mentioned there was some secrecy around the contract it involved. Which only made me more excited. Whatever this is, it’s big. And I need big, before my dreams slip through my fingers—though that’d certainly make my parents happy.
They’d never been thrilled with my career choice. Even in high school, when I was making real money from modeling, they’d tried to convince me to pursue something else. They had signed permissions for my underage contracts, sure, but it had always been reluctantly.
I always thought that if I could just land one huge national gig, they’d finally see that all my hard work had paid off. That I’d made something of myself. They’d finally be proud.
At the far end of the hall, the frosted glass doors sporting the Danica Rose logo open and a curvy brunette in a navy pantsuit strides out. Her walk is confident, but her expression is definitely not. Everyone looks at her, and low whispers go around the room. I’m sure they’re all wondering what went on behind those doors. I know I am.
The brunette goes to the refreshment table and pours a cup of cucumber water from a carafe. She takes a small sip, then clutches the paper cup to her chest as if she’s lost in thought.
“Okay, I’m dying to know.” Marin bursts from her seat and approaches the brunette. Luckily, I’m close enough that I can hear them talk. Everyone else rubbernecks to do the same.
“What happened in there?” Marin asks gently. “Are you okay?”
The brunette takes another sip and tosses the cup in the trash. “I’m fine. I had a couple pictures taken and got asked a bunch of weird questions and…that was it. Time was up.”
“What kind of questions? Like your vital stats, or your experience?”
“No.” She shrugs. “Like…do I own any pets, what do I think about downtown living, do I have any bad habits? Just, weird stuff. Not the usual. I don’t even know who the client is.”
Marin’s face screws up in confusion.
“Brooklyn Moss.”
My attention snaps to those glass doors, where a woman waves me over, a tablet in her hand. I make eye contact with Marin as I rise and smooth my hands down my skinny jeans.
“Good luck,” she whispers before turning back to the brunette.
I shoot her a smile as I straighten my posture and toss back my hair. It’s game on, and I get myself into the zone where I always go when I’m in front of a lens. I feel confident. Prepared. The adrenaline pumping through me is a good thing, a strong thing. I’ve so got this.
I silently chant those words all the way down the hall. The tablet woman nods at me as she pushes the door open, gesturing me through, and I step inside.
And come up short.
What the hell?
The room is empty save for a dark-suited man sitting behind a large black desk across the room. His head is down as he writes on something, but my heart beats with familiarity.
No, it can’t be.
He glances up, and my heart skids to a stop.
It’s him. The man who promised me the moon and then ghosted me after we slept together. The man who ruined my first chance with this company, my first chance at breaking out and skyrocketing my career.
Luka Zoric.
Brooklyn
Chapter 2
Three Years Ago
It was the biggest fashion show I’d done so far.
A bunch of up-and-coming designers had descended on Chicago to debut their new lines in front of the local fashion media, and it had caused a frenzy. The new manager I’d recently signed with had really come through for me by booking me for the show. I mean, I’d have preferred to be walking the runway in Milan but having some of the country’s top designers fit me with their clothes just so I could be photographed strutting around in them was a huge win for my career. Plus, national agencies like KZ Modeling were going to be there and I’d been trying to catch their eyes for a while. I was nineteen and working my way up. I figured it was just a matter of time before they noticed me—I hoped—but it couldn’t hurt to give them a little push.