CHAPTER TWO

 

Ben's editor accepted the sketch with kudos. Lester Edwards liked Ben Jameson's work. The only thing he would like better for his fashion magazine "East Meets West" was if he could find models that were as beautiful as the women in Ben's sketches. Or at least the expressions on their faces, like the one on the face of the girl in his most recent sketch. Hers was the best yet. The department would settle for one of their loveliest models to showcase the dress in the pages of the magazine, but they would share his opinion that it was just that, settling.

Not for the first time, he asked, "Where did you find this one?"

The same answer. "I didn't. I just made her up."

Lester Edwards regarded him thoughtfully. "Ben, what do you have against the models in our Fashion Department? You rarely use them in your sketches."

Ben responded, "They are all beautiful. Just didn't feel right for this dress, or for the background I imagined." He added politely, "I'll be happy to re-sketch around one of the magazine's models."

"No, no," Lester shook his head, resigned. This sketch is too fine to redo. But I tell you what," he said, a corner of his mouth lifting, "how about you visit some modeling agencies and see if you can find someone who resembles this girl in blue velvet?"

"Me?" Ben asked, startled. What do I know about modeling? Any girl can wear this dress—"

"I beg to differ," Lester interrupted. "Maybe any model worth her ability can walk down a fashion aisle, but not in our magazine. You know we pride ourselves on creating images and backgrounds that attract and impress, and will bring readers back. And," he added, his expression beaming with enthusiasm, "attract new ones. That's why," he demanded, "I want you to find the face who fits your sketch and can model the dress beyond all expectations, against the background you've created."

Ben's mouth tightened and his brow furrowed.

Lester noted Ben's discomfort. He asked, "So how does it feel being on the other end of the quest?"

"Quite a challenge," Ben replied. But truthfully, how hard could it prove? Somewhere there had to be a model who resembled the one in his sketch.

Lester continued, "I'll give you a letter of introduction. The agencies will be more than happy to let you browse through their database."

Ben nodded. "You're the boss. I'll do my darndest."

"Good," Lester said. He buzzed his secretary over the intercom and instructed her to promptly prepare a letter of introduction for Ben.

 

An hour later, Ben left the office and began his tour of modeling agencies in a fifty mile radius. By the time he returned to the parking lot of his apartment complex that evening, his head pounded and his eyes were bloodshot from all the photos he'd looked at. And all he could remember was that they were all lovely and slender, but none stood out enough to make him take a second look. After a while, the faces blurred.

Ben parked his car and sat behind the wheel for a few moments, rubbing his eyes and his forehead. Sighing deeply, he opened his car door and stepped out. He tapped the lock button on the remote on his key chain, and began walking toward his unit.

From the corner of a tired eye, he spotted a figure standing on one side of the parking lot. It wasn't the figure itself that made him pause, turn and look, but the feeling that the figure was watching him. At this distance, he couldn't tell if it was male or female. He honestly was too tired to bother finding out. About to turn back toward his apartment, he noticed the figure beginning to move towards him. A paranoid thought ran through his mind. Was he about to be mugged? But that thought gave way to curiosity as the figure drew closer and he saw that it was a young woman in a gray t-shirt and jeans.

By the time she stood at arms length, he couldn't take his eyes off her face. Her eyes were dark blue and her long hair tied in a pony tail was honey ash blonde. She greeted him with the quaintest smile and a suave "hello."

The words escaped his mouth before he could reflect. "You wouldn't perchance have done modeling?" Ben asked. Oh my God, he thought grimacing. That sounded like a pick-up line, or worse, a predator's pick up line."

The girl raised her chin and met his gaze head on. "Yeah, I might have," she replied lazily, a playful tease in her voice.

Ben thought suspiciously. Maybe she was the predator.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"No, not likely."

Ben asked, "What's your name?"

The girl tilted her head, her expression saying, let me think. "Oh, of course. My name is Jessica — Jessica Simmons. At least that's as near a translation as I can give you."

Ben peered closer at her. Her features and her accent were American, though not Montanan, more northeast coast. New York. He had attended college in upstate New York on a scholarship.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Oh, it's pretty far up. You wouldn't know the place."

"Northeast?" he pressed.

Again she thought before answering. She glanced upward. "Yeah, Northeast. Definitely Northeast."

She wasn't very forthcoming, Ben thought. But why should she be, he reasoned. It was clear to him now that they had never met before.

He had to ask, "Was there something you wanted from me?" After all, she had approached him.

"No," she replied. "You asked me — if I'd done modeling."

"Yes, but..." Ben ran a nervous hand through his hair.

She remarked, "It's brown, dark, rich, like the soil here."

"Yeah," he laughed. He'd never heard his hair described that way.

"Listen," he said. "I'm sincere about the modeling. I have my card here." He dug into the inside pocket of his blazer. "I work for a top notch fashion magazine. The name is on the card. Certainly if I was in your place, I wouldn't trust a stranger. Take the time to investigate. The magazine has been around for years, and is well known in fashion circles."

The girl examined the card, front and back. She sniffed it. "Paper, nice, shiny."

Ben swallowed. He hoped she was not an escapee from a mental institution. Or perhaps, he allowed, she was simple-minded. In either case, he must be crazy to be having this conversation with her. But the girl fit his sketch, even without makeup. And after viewing hundreds of photos of beautiful women, none of them had come anywhere close to fitting his sketch like this girl.

"Jessica, my boss' name is Lester Edwards. You can verify everything I've told you before you come to the office, as well you should."

She smiled at him, warmly. "I'll be there," she promised, her voice earnest. "You go and rest now. You look exhausted."

Ben watched, befuddled, as she turned and retraced her steps, and disappeared around a bend in the parking lot.