Fashion Jungle Read online

  “I’ll take care of it,” Dane whispered harshly. “But I’m going to need your help…”

  Dane’s arms came around her as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Tick. Tock.”

  Everlee stared at herself in the mirror for a solid five minutes. She would know, she’d counted. The bathroom at Trend used to make her feel special, like she was finally making it in an industry that was so cut-throat, she felt like she had lasting scars. She looked the same.

  Nothing had changed on the outside. Not yet. She expected the self-loathing to show under her eyes, the hatred to shine like a homing beacon every time someone spoke with her.

  So far.

  Nothing.

  Frederick had come home too late to touch her, thank God.

  And had left early that morning for another shoot.

  Fresh Faces of Trend.

  Everlee was the lucky one who would get paired with the new Fresh Face—also known as someone who had yet to get hips and boobs—and mentor them.

  Or, at least that was what the magazine wanted. Everlee wasn’t quite sure how much mentoring could go into telling those fresh faces that life as they knew it was over. And that if they were really lucky and made it… they’d never actually make it.

  It was one big, fat lie.

  Because success was always measured by an ever-growing yardstick, and you never reached the top.

  Ever.

  The door to the bathroom swung open. “Everlee?”

  “Hey, Britt.” She smiled widely. “Sorry, I was just exhausted and thought what better way to cheer myself up than to count my wrinkles? Bonus points for stretch marks.”

  Brittany rolled her eyes with a grin, looking flawless in a chic, white Calvin Klein dress that hugged every perfect curve. Those legs. Everlee inwardly shook her head.

  “You look amazing. You always do.” Brittany walked to the other sink and made a pout, lining her natural lips with red. “I’m sorry you’re tired, though. The shoot shouldn’t go too long, and if you’re too tired to count wrinkles, you can always go to my office and take a nap.”

  “Ahhh, a nap sounds incredible right now.” Everlee exhaled loudly. “First the show with my new wide-eyed model friend, and then I’m taking over your office and requesting coffee once I wake up.”

  “Deal.” Brittany laughed. “And funny you should mention your new model sister. I met her a few nights ago. Roger had Frederick do a few test shots.”

  Everlee felt her stomach clench. “Oh? How’d they look?”

  “Not sure, but Frederick seemed excited.” Brittany stared at her through the mirror, her wide, blue eyes asking questions that Everlee wasn’t at all ready to answer. Her friend always saw too much, and Everlee was afraid if she said one thing, she’d say it all.

  And that would leave her worse off than before.

  Alone.

  With the entire world calling her a liar.

  Why did it have to be so complicated? Why wasn’t she enough?

  “So…” Everlee looked down at the sink and then back up at Brittany. “How old is she then?”

  “Well, most of the models look like they haven’t ridden a bike without training wheels yet,” Brittany joked. “But she looks like she could be around fifteen?”

  The tightness in Everlee’s chest dissipated just a bit. The girl was still young. That was good. She could work with that. Frederick was a boob guy, he liked women. Why was she even worried?

  Oh, right, because he’d come home twice in the past month smelling like someone else.

  And it was getting worse.

  And, lucky her, she was pregnant!

  “Hey.” Brittany put an arm around her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine.” Everlee hoped she sounded convincing. “Now, let’s go see all the little starving models with stars in their eyes and tell them what it’s like to be super.”

  “I’m a Barbie girl…” Brittany started singing while Everlee fell into step beside her.

  It was hard not to notice the way the girls looked at them as they made their way down the hall.

  They were idols to these girls.

  Supermodels.

  World-renowned.

  And yet, Everlee kept wondering when it would finally be done, when her life would feel real again, not like this giant production put on for everyone’s benefit.

  “You’re late,” Frederick said the minute Everlee walked on set. He didn’t even make eye contact, just adjusted one of his lenses, looked through it, cursed, and then played with one of the lights.

  “By two minutes.” She’d counted. “And I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Hmm…” came his very husbandly response, and then he looked up and frowned. “Why are you so pale?”

  “I told you, I’m not feeling—”

  “Can we get makeup over here, now?” Frederick yelled loudly enough for people to scamper all over the place.

  And several of the younger models looked ready to huddle in the corner and start rocking back and forth.

  There were five fresh faces, and five old ones, though that wasn’t how they would spin it, even if it was the truth.

  Brittany was in the shoot, as well as Everlee, but Zoe had turned them down since she was focusing more on her line.

  And their old friends, Taye, Ella, and Gia all sat in makeup chairs, scrolling through their phones. Most of them still worked off and on. Gia had gone into acting and had landed a few small roles. Ella had gone and had a family. And, Taye? Well, Everlee was ninety-nine-percent sure she was a vampire and used blood as a way to stay young.

  The woman refused to age.

  It was like her body was against it, and the universe agreed it would be a pity to give such a pretty face a wrinkle.

  “She’s pale,” Frederick said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Fix it.”

  Then he was off, talking to one of the set directors while Everlee was ready to sink into the floor.

  “He’s always like this during a shoot.” She smiled at Brittany, who looked ready to march over there and strangle him with her bare hands, smiling as she did it. Because Brittany did everything with a smile.

  Everlee imagined that even if Brittany ever murdered someone, she’d still grin and then say “sorry” after the fact.

  She was just so polite.

  And wonderful.

  “I’m fine.” Everlee squeezed Brittany’s hand quickly. “I’m married to him, remember? I know his moods.”

  Brittany didn’t seem convinced, but she finally gave Everlee a slow nod. “I’ll see if Grace wants to go ahead and get started.”

  As if by invoking the name, Brittany had summoned the she-devil herself, Grace waltzed into the room, Starbucks in one hand, sunglasses perched on her nose. She wore a green leather skirt that hugged her body, accented by camel booties and the new Givenchy pleated bib sleeveless that wasn’t even in stores yet, haphazardly tucked into the front of the waistband.

  “So?” Grace spread her arms wide. “Did Frederick get hit by a bus, or can we start?”

  “Actually, it was me.” Everlee took the blame. “I was in the bathroom.”

  Grace stared her down long and hard, though it was difficult to see through the black sunglasses. “Men should be more understanding of a woman’s needs at the toilet. If you were late, it’s his fault for not giving you more time to use the restroom in between getting ready. Isn’t that right, Frederick?”

  Frederick shot a glare toward Everlee then nodded at the editor. “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Now that we’re all agreed.” Grace lifted a shoulder. “Go.”

  Go basically meant stop standing still, move, and don’t stop until she said it was okay.

  In her thirties, and Everlee was still intimidated by the Editor in Chief of Trend.

  The woman was a tyrant.

  And Everlee often wondered how she would have turned out had she listened more to what Grace had to say than she had her own heart.

&nbs
p; She gulped and briefly placed a hand on her stomach before turning toward the set.

  “We’ll start with Everlee,” Frederick said in a clipped tone. “And Chrissy?”

  A beautiful girl stood up and walked to him. All legs that one, with wide-set, innocent eyes, pouty pink lips, and hair that looked as if she’d copied it identically from the last shoot Brittany had been in with loose waves draped around her shoulders. She wore a leather crop top and joggers that dipped into a pair of Nike high-tops.

  They’d clearly tried to dress her like she was hanging out with her friends at a basketball game, but the girl was too pretty for that.

  No, she looked like she just stepped out of a magazine.

  And that was a problem.

  Wasn’t it?

  Everlee smiled politely at the girl and took her seat on the white leather couch they were supposed to sit on. The theme was girl-talk.

  Yeah, Everlee was supposed to give advice, and while they talked and laughed and painted each other’s toes, Frederick would shoot.

  “Make it natural,” Grace said in a bored tone. “And, Chrissy dear?”

  “Yes?” Chrissy beamed.

  Grace shook her head slowly. “If you look at the camera, I’m throwing you out the window. You will not pose. Repeat after me, ‘I will not pose.’”

  “I will not pose,” Chrissy said in a serious voice. “I swear.”

  “Swearing’s for sailors.” Grace sighed as if the world were disappointing her. “Now, off you go.”

  Chrissy sat next to Everlee.

  “First question!” Grace snapped her fingers.

  Brittany read it off. “What’s the best advice you could give someone starting out in the industry?”

  Everlee ground her teeth together at Chrissy’s eager and oh-so-innocent expression. “Oh, good one!”

  “Look at the camera one more time, and I’m throwing you out the window and letting the pigeons do the rest!” Grace yelled.

  Chrissy ducked her head and faced Everlee.

  “Well.” Everlee angled her head so Frederick could catch some of the light outlining her perfect jawline. “I think the best advice I can give you is to work hard. And all your dreams will come true!” When had she turned into a liar? “And make sure that you keep your circle of friends close.”

  Chrissy nodded eagerly. “Wow, it’s so crazy you say that because my friends from high school and I still talk every day. I think it’s really important to stay grounded.”

  Everlee’s eye twitched with the need to roll a bit.

  Her smile froze on her face as she quickly said, “Good for you!”

  “Second question,” Grace yelled.

  “What do you love most about—?”

  “Wait!” Grace walked right in front of the camera, adjusted one of the pillows, and tossed it to Chrissy. “Hug this right here. Pull your legs up. No double chin. Neck pushes out, not in—we aren’t hobbits. There. Continue, Brittany!”

  “What do you love most about yourself?” Brittany asked.

  “That’s easy.” Chrissy grinned broadly at Everlee. “I love my laugh.”

  At that, Everlee did smile, a real one. “I can see why.”

  “Everlee?” Grace said in an annoyed voice. “You have to answer, as well. You’re better than this. You know the drill, faster!”

  “I was thinking.” Everlee felt her throat close up as everyone waited for her to answer. Her eyes filled with tears as she realized one sad reality.

  Nothing.

  She loved nothing about herself.

  She opened her mouth and lied. “I love my eyes.”

  “Oh, you have beautiful eyes, I can see why. I like them, too.” Chrissy reached for her hand and squeezed it. And then something changed in the girl’s expression. The bubbly girl was gone, and in that moment, she was just another human noticing someone else’s pain and trying to do everything in her power—through a stare—to make them feel better.

  Everlee squeezed back.

  “That, right there.” Grace walked up to Frederick. “Ladies, don’t move, that’s our shot.”

  The camera flashed several times.

  And then Grace’s voice yelled. “Next!”

  “Hey…” Brittany knocked on Grace’s door and leaned against it. After being on her feet most of the morning and helping coordinate the shoot, all she wanted to do was toss off her shoes and walk around the office barefoot.

  But last year, someone had actually been fired for that.

  Grace’s cousin.

  So… Brittany kept her stilettos on, even though the Louboutins pinched her pinky toe, making it nearly fall asleep every time she put all her weight on her feet.

  At least, they were pretty.

  “What do you think?” Grace held up the New York Post just long enough for Brittany to catch the name of the newspaper. Then she tossed it into the trash can and leaned back, her eyes calculating. “Well?”

  Great. Brittany would have to guess. “I always enjoy reading your mind.”

  Grace’s red lips twitched. “And?”

  “And, I think that if you’re reading the newspaper in the afternoon, there’s something in it you would like to discuss.”

  “I always knew you were the smartest of the three.” Grace beamed.

  Brittany gave her a pointed look. “Zoe’s brilliant, so is Everlee—”

  “Yes, yes they’re fantastic, so beautiful.” Grace waved her off. “I like the idea.”

  “The idea,” Brittany repeated. Exhaustion had crept in so swiftly that her brain had trouble processing. It didn’t help that she’d stayed up late the night before texting Oliver.

  He was in surgery all day today.

  And her phone was burning a hole in her purse.

  She refused to check it every five minutes.

  And broke that promise to herself ten minutes into her day.

  “You know.” Grace leaned forward. “The idea. Politics.”

  “Yes.” Brittany breathed out a sigh of relief. Then it hit her. “Wait, really?”

  Grace shrugged. “No, I’m lying to you because I enjoy breaking your spirit.”

  Brittany waited.

  Grace scowled. “Really, you should know me better by now. Look, I’ll allow this under one condition.”

  “Anything.” Brittany was ready to bounce out of her chair and sprint down to Zoe’s office for champagne!

  “Ronan Kampbell.” Grace’s eyebrows shot up. “Rumor has it his family’s breathing down his neck—mainly his mother, let’s be honest—” Brittany cringed. “—to run for president after his term is up. If he succeeds, he will be one of the youngest US presidents, easily following in his late father’s footsteps. I want the story. He refuses to confirm or deny the allegation. I want the story, and I want him on the cover.” Brittany felt like she was going to be sick. “With you.”

  “Excuse me?” Brittany couldn’t find her voice as her entire body started to sway. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re pretty,” Grace said in a sarcastic voice as she started riffling through her papers. “He’s always been fascinated with you, and now that he’s married, it would be nostalgic for the American public to see you on good terms with the family. More than that, the New York Post ran a story on you two sixteen years ago, do you remember?”

  How could Brittany forget? They’d had to let out the dress she was wearing, and she’d gotten in a fight with Ronan over talking to his mom about the situation. About them.

  He’d said that he loved her and that they would figure it out.

  And then nothing was ever said about it again, about her, though Brittany did get a check from the family in the mail the next day, along with a restraining order.

  Ronan had still visited her apartment, but by then, the trust was broken. So broken. She had given him her heart.

  It hadn’t been enough.

  “Yes.” She found her voice. “I do.”

  “That newspaper sold more copies in one day tha
n it did the entire year, Brittany. That’s unheard of! This issue could pay for advertising for the next two years. Trend will be in every home, on every bus, every taxi—it’ll destroy our competition, and you still get what you want.”

  She didn’t want it that badly.

  Not if she had to pose with him.

  Not if she had to pretend.

  She couldn’t do it anymore.

  Obviously. Since the gala had been a disaster and she had almost passed out a dozen times then nearly got blinded by his wife’s giant rock.

  Thank goodness for Oliver.

  “The correct response,” Grace stood and leaned over her desk. “is, ‘Thank you, Grace, for this wonderful opportunity.’ Off you go.”

  She waved Brittany off.

  Brittany stood on wooden legs. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. “How much time do I have?”

  “I want it done before Fashion Week. We’ll be too busy once that hits. I’ll contact Roger with more details—that beautiful man better not have died in that God-awful hospital.”

  “He’s alive.” Brittany’s vision dimmed as the blood drained from her head. “He just hates having to take it easy.”

  “You can sleep when you’re dead,” was Grace’s response as she picked up the phone. “Roger, you’re alive! I’m so pleased you didn’t walk into the light…”

  Brittany walked back to her office and stared out at the city. Everlee was fast asleep on her couch.

  The woman really wasn’t kidding. She’d been so exhausted, Brittany didn’t have the heart to wake her.

  Her phone buzzed in her purse.

  Finally!

  With a grin, she picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Have you talked with Grace?” Ronan said in that deep voice of his, the one that had sent chills down her spine during her first Sports Illustrated photo shoot. He’d walked right up to her, introduced himself, and when he saw the Bible sitting on her lap, sat down right next to her and said, “I could use some saving.”

  It had made her laugh.

  It made him smile.

  And she’d lost a little bit of her heart in that grin, in the way he looked into her eyes instead of at her body.