“And you are?” Blake asked in a snooty, upper-crust accent.
In response to the question, Mr. Hudson stepped closer to Blake and I instantly felt the loss of warmth from his body.
“Mr. Griffin Hudson, and who might you be?”
I worked to keep myself from shuddering at the iciness in his voice while I watched Blake’s snooty expression morph into a beaming smile. He was oblivious, it would seem, to the fact he’d just spoken down to the man.
“I’m Blake Masters. You know my father, Rupert.”
The urge to punch him in the face as he batted his eyelashes whilst offering a hand caused my fingers to tighten on the strap of my bag.
Tell him to piss off, go on.
As if he’d heard my silent demand, Mr. Hudson ignored the outstretched hand.
“Yes, I know your father.” There was something similar to distaste in his voice that caused me to glance from Blake to him. What was I missing here?
The door Blake must have appeared out of opened and a head popped out, turning in our direction. “What is this, a gathering of minds, or a bloody catwalk show? Get your arses in here and get changed. The show is about to start in two minutes and my head model is still dressed in…” Morgan, the fashion designer, trailed off as he took in what I was wearing and paled when he got to my face. “Jesus, get in here now before anyone sees how hideous you look.”
I chuckled, used to that kind of reaction, but as I was about to walk up to him, an angry growl came from Mr. Hudson and his hand took hold of my arm, stalling me. My heart took flight as I looked at the tanned hand holding onto my forearm, and up at the face that was filled with restrained anger. His eyes were chips of ice as they focused on Morgan.
Was he upset for me?
Don’t be ridiculous, he doesn’t even know you?
Everyone seemed unsure what to do as I stood there, Blake’s head swinging from person to person as if trying to fathom what on earth was going on.
Tension gathered in the air as no one moved. Sensing that someone needed to do something, I patted the hand holding my arm, electricity shooting through me. My mouth dried up and I was forced to lick my lips. “It’s alright, Morgan is like the ghostly trio in Casper. He acts mean, but underneath it all he has a heart of gold.” Sure that Mr. Hudson’s lips were twitching, I gave his hand another pat, removing it to stroll towards Morgan while giving him a stare that said “run, run now.” When he didn’t, I kept walking until I’d reached him and then forcibly pushed him back through the door.
Without looking back, I followed Morgan into the room that looked like a wardrobe had exploded all over it. The stuffy room was packed with bodies in various stages of undress as I searched for a tiny space to strip off in, ignoring the questioning look on Morgan’s face as he stared at me.
The door behind me opened and, for a second, I wondered if Mr. Hudson had followed us, only to hear Blake start bitching. My shoulders sagged and I wasn’t sure if it was from relief or disappointment.
“Who does he think he is, snubbing me like that? My father is part of the conglomerate that makes decisions on his businesses. He needs to learn some manners,” Blake bitched to no one in particular. I tuned him out and walked over to the other side of the room. Reaching the racks of clothing, I started searching for what I needed to dress in.
I sighed as Morgan followed me. Once we were tucked away into a small corner of the room with my clothes, I gave him a shrug. “What?”
“What’s going on between you and Mr. Hudson?” he gritted out through clenched teeth quietly.
I yanked off my jumper and threw it on the floor. “There is nothing going on between us,” I whispered back.
“Then why was he acting as if I’d just insulted his boyfriend?”
In the process of pulling off my joggers, my hands stilled and I stared up at Morgan from my bent position. Willing my heart to stop dancing with excitement at the prospect that Mr. Hudson might be gay and I’d misread him, I asked quietly. “Is he gay?” My gaze narrowed on Morgan when all he did was shake his head. “Then why did you say he’s acting like a jealous boyfriend?” A scowl formed on my face as a bitter taste filled my mouth.
“Because he was acting like that. I’ve known him for a number of years and I’ve never seen him behave like that before.”
What did that mean?
It means nothing, is what it means. Stop asking for trouble.
Continuing to get undressed, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and worked on getting dressed in record time as someone shouted that we had thirty seconds. Shit, shit, shit.
I ran to the mirror and eyed my hair mournfully. Resigned to having no time to slick it back, I ruffled it instead, hoping people would think that it was meant to look like a bush on the top of my head. Once I’d finished, I took off the glasses I wore for short-sightedness and followed the other models to the door. I was relieved that there was only going to be three staggered changes planned today. It would be easier without all the models in the one room at the same time, like now.
Inhaling and exhaling twice, I took my position at the bottom of the steps and willed my sweaty hands to remain still as my fingers trembled at the knowledge of who was going to be watching me in the crowd. The last time I’d seen him seated at the end of the stage, it had taken every ounce of willpower I had not to cover myself when my cock had started to react to his intense stare. The blonde I’d caught sight of sitting next to him had soon cooled my jets though.
A picture of the blonde formed in my mind. Would she be with him today?
I shook off the question as someone nudged me in the ribs and I stepped out through the curtain, staring straight ahead as I walked down the small makeshift runway.
Half an hour later and not feeling at my best, I changed into the last outfit. My head felt woozy and it took a second to register that my blood sugar was dropping. I glanced around and spotted Nick, one of the more helpful models. “Nick, do you have anything to eat in your bag?”
He glanced my way and shook his head before continuing to dress.
“Charlie, come on, you’re next. Get your backside in gear,” Morgan shouted across the room at me.
Crap.
Doing as I was told, I prayed I’d be able to keep it together for the time it would take to complete the last walk and for the crowd to give Morgan applause.
Five minutes after getting on stage I realised my mistake as I struggled to stand tall and act like my legs hadn’t turned to jelly. I blinked several times as I moved towards the side of the stage, trying to get rid of the black spots that were forming in front of my vision. My hands shook and I could feel the ground moving under me, but it was too late.
The world turned black.
Griffin
Transfixed by Charles, I didn’t miss how pale he’d become, or how he appeared to be struggling to hold himself up. What was wrong with him?
My fingers tightened around the glass of water I held. Then I was moving to shove past people in order to get to the stage, people scattering like pins being struck by a bowling ball as Charles dropped like a stone. There was a loud crack that sounded like gunfire as his head hit the wooden stage.
With my heart ramming against my ribs, I struggled to breathe as I pushed past the panicked people watching the pandemonium on the stage. I jumped effortlessly onto the stage and ran to where Charles lay. Dropping to my knees, I didn’t take a breath until I saw Charles’s chest move. I touched his deathly pale face with trembling fingers. The heat coming off him was reassuring and helped to settle my pulse.