12. Libby
Despite the photoshoot that left me reeling with doubts about my own body on Saturday, I showed up to this one ready to take it on. Only to be shut down...again.
”Veronica, please get Red the four-inch Manolos. She”s so much shorter than the other girls. She”s throwing off the look,” the man says behind his camera.
”JS, do you think Red is tall enough for this look?”
The man called JS just looks at me tilting his head every which way, ”Hmm, maybe with the taller heels.”
”Maybe with a taller girl,” the photographer says not so under his breath. ”Red, come here, please.”
I wish he’d stop fucking calling me that. But I can’t say anything. Right now I’m at his mercy. And I hate this feeling.
He waves me over and I catch a glance at the other girls looking me up and down like I”m ruining their entire week.
”We”re going to try you with the taller heel, but if it doesn”t work. I”m afraid you”re just not cut out for this style.”
Veronica, the wardrobe assistant comes with the new pair of heels.
”Chop, chop,” the photographer claps. ”We don”t have all day.”
”He can”t just cut you from a shoot,” Kesley sneers.
”It”s fine. I didn”t fit the ”look”,” I say with air quotes.
Sherrie, my bestie”s mama, scoffs from her seat in the clinic. Either Kesley, me or one of her sister”s has been by Sherrie”s side over the last few weeks as she”s received her chemo treatment.
Today, Sherrie is feeling especially spicy.
”How dare he? What”s his name? I”m going to talk to his boss.”
I laugh, ”That”s not really how it works, Sherrie. Though I appreciate it.”
Growing up, I didn”t have a mother. My own left me and my brother in the care of an uncle when I was just a baby. So when I met Kesley, her parents became like parents to me. They love me like a daughter.
”I”ll show him how it works,” Sherrie says like a threat.
Kesley looks at me, her shoulders shaking as she laughs to herself, shaking her head.
And ever since getting her diagnosis, Sherrie has taken on an entirely new persona.
She”s not the same super mom of the year with delicious shepherd”s pie recipes and sweet-looking aprons. No, this woman sitting in front of us is a badass with a mohawk. Yes, an actual mohawk.
”Have I told you how much I love you, Sherrie.”
”Only every day,” she admits with a wink. ”But I can assure you I love you more.”
Okay, I”m officially gutted.
An unexpected tear springs forward just as Sherrie”s oncologist knocks on the door. I quickly wipe it away.
”Well, if it isn’t” my toughest patient,” Dr. Steele says. She flips through Sherrie”s chart. ”Looks like the treatment has been doing it”s job, Sherrie. We”re going to run a few tests today and just continue to track your progress. But things are looking up.”
”That”s great news,” Kesley says, reaching for her mom”s hand.
Sherrie holds it tightly, then reaches over to me and takes mine in her other hand.
Oh, god. I can”t contain my emotions.
”Really great news,” Sherrie says.
Back at the house, alone in my room. I get a call from my agent.
”Lib-by,” he croons.
”Ronnie,” I say with little emotion.
”I got word back from the shoot.”
”So then you know it was a disaster,” I say.
He pauses, ”Nevermind high fashion spreads. We have a proposal from a company that is looking for exactly what you have to offer.”
”That”s what you said about this last one, Ronnie,” I remind him.
”Well, that was before I realized just how great you would do in a different style of publication.”
”Okay, so if it”s not high fashion,” because I”m too thick and too short apparently, ”then what is it?”
”Lingerie ads.”
I nearly cough on the tea I”m sipping.
”Lingerie, Ronnie?”
”Yes, Libby, my darling, you would be absolutely spectacular for this. Trust me.”
I sigh. I can”t believe it”s come to this. Fashion has always been my dream. Ever since I saw the woman who gave me up so easily on the cover of Italian Vogue. Her fierce hazel eyes looking back at me for the first time. I promised myself I”d make her take notice. Force her to see me the same way I was able to see her. No context, and on the cover of a famous magazine.
”Libby, are you there? What do you say?” Ronnie says, waiting patiently.
”Is taking this gig going to open up more opportunities?”
”Without a doubt, my dear.”
”Fine,” I say. ”I”ll take it.”
Hanging up with him I feel a little sleazy for saying yes to a lingerie gig. But what else am I supposed to do? The clothing lines won”t hire me. And it’s not like I’d be posing totally nude. I vowed that one time in Paris would be my last.
Too old. Too thick. Too short. The thoughts whirl in my head.
My phone dings next to me and I look at it to see strangerDanger23 has sent me a message.
I sit up straight and open the app.
strangerDanger23: hello, butterfly.
I think about the man on the other side of this screen. His piercing gaze. His face buried between my legs. My body humming from the pleasure he drew out of me.
I shouldn”t be playing with fire. I shouldn”t want this. Because despite Michael being on this app... I know him. I know his family. And I know that if it ever got back to them that I had corrupted their precious son, I”d have hell to pay.
But what if nobody had to find out?
Shut up, vagina. I need my brain in charge right now. But also...what if nobody had to find out? What if Michael and I just give into this thing we both so badly desire. And we just get it out of systems.
Then we can finally move on. He could finally focus on finding someone who can fit in with the Fergusons. And I....
I don”t know what I”d do. Modeling isn”t exactly the fulfilling career I was hoping it would be.
My fingers are hesitating over the keyboard. And I”m trying to decide exactly how I should word this message to him, when a text from Rina Lopez comes in.
Rina
Libby, I need your help with something. Call me.
That”s interesting. Rina and I are friends, sure. Maybe more like acquaintances. But for her to reach out, it must be something important.
I quickly dial her.
”Oh, thank God,” she sighs out.
”Rina? Are you okay?”
”Listen, Libby. I hate to have to ask you for this but I”m desperate here. The boys are in the middle of the playoffs and I”m getting product placement offers and ad execs reaching out like crazy. I’m still looking for a marketing director. You know this world. Would you...I don”t know, be willing to help me out for a bit? I”m in over my head here.”
She never talks that fast. Rina is slow and calculative. Always in control, but today, her voice sounds stressed and needy.
”I mean, yeah. But what do you need help with?”
”I need someone to manage social media. Think of it like a consulting gig. Just until we”re through with the post-season, I can find a full-time person, and everyone can finally take a vacation.”
From the sound of her voice, she”s in desperate need of one.
”And that would entail?”
”Making sure the players are fulfilling their deals with the companies that sponsor them by actually posting to their social accounts. Getting everyone on board to get the word out about our charity events and work in the city. Making their personalities shine. They”re hockey players first and foremost, so I get that this isn”t their forte. But it”s necessary at this point for our franchise.”
It”s definitely in my wheelhouse. As a model, I practically live on social media—not so much these days. But how does that old saying go? ”Those who can”t do...”
”I”ll help you, Rina. Just tell me what you need me to do first.”
She breathes deeply. ”You have no idea how much this means. Ok, well first things first. Our boys have their date-a-player dates that need to be shot and posted. You can start with yours and Fergie”s to get a good feel of what to capture.”
I nearly drop the phone. ”Me and Fergie. Yeah... ok.”
”Something wrong?”
”Nope. I”ll... yeah I”ll get right on that.”
”You”re my hero, Libby.”
I”m something, that”s for sure. A people pleaser. A pushover, even. But a hero? I”m a far cry from that.
”We can talk more tomorrow,” she says before we disconnect.
Well, looks like I have something to do after all. And that something is dating Michael Ferguson.