Adrienne walked through the mall with the carefree exuberance of a fifteen-year-old. It was her favorite hangout and an easy bus ride from school, and more often than not, she found herself lured there by the glamorous painted ladies at the makeup counters dressed in the latest fashion.
In the public bathroom, she’d ditched her boring school uniform for an off-the-shoulder, body-conscious, coral-colored dress and black lace fingerless gloves. Pulling out the makeup she wasn’t allowed to wear at home, she swiped glittery eye shadow on her eyelids and pouted to outline her lips with a coral-tinted shimmery gloss. Feeling more like herself and ready to cut loose, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and strolled out into the main mezzanine of the Tampa Bay Mall.
Her yellow Sony Walkman spun the latest Wham! CD, and she hummed along to “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” as she meandered toward the food court. Having worn out the smash hit by listening to it on repeat, she knew every word by heart. She be-bopped through the mall, letting the chorus take her away, crooning in concert with George Michael.
Adrienne was standing in line at the Orange Julius when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and pulled off her headphones, letting them rest encircling her neck. Her brow knit up as she surveyed the man behind her with wary interest.
“I bet you hear this all the time, but you could be a model,” he said behind neon green and black wraparound sunglasses.
“Really?” Adrienne smiled at the compliment that destroyed her defenses.
“Truly.”
He pushed the sunglasses on top of his dark wavy hair that was cut in a shaggy mullet. Dressed head-to-toe in black, she guessed he was almost thirty. The dark hair of his mustache twitched as he pulled a business card from an inside pocket of his jacket and offered it to her.
She took it and read the information on the card, and a thrill tingled through her belly.
Chroma Vogue Studio
Denny S. Kincaid
Fashion Photographer
An appraising gaze from his piercing blue eyes flicked down her long legs. “You have the height and bone structure, but I won’t be able to really tell until we get you under the lights and do a few test shots. I’ve been working with some of the best agents in the biz.” He rattled off names that Adrienne didn’t recognize, but she nodded like she did anyway. “Have a look.” He opened a black leather portfolio and started flipping through the acetate pages. “This could be you one day.” He pointed to a photograph of the striking Iman in black satin and gold cuff bracelets. When he pulled out a tattered copy of Harper’s Bazaar with the same photograph on the cover, Adrienne squealed with delight. “This was a cover I did for Harper’s a few years ago,” he declared with such bold confidence, Adrienne was sure he was the real deal. “I have connections throughout the industry. If you’re interested, we could start with a photo shoot. If it goes well, I could set you up with a go-see.”
“A go-see?”
“It’s an informal meeting where you bring your portfolio to a modeling agency and meet the booking agents. If they like you, they will take some polaroids and refer you to designers.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice into a warmer, conspiring tone. “Just six months ago, I scouted Jules Chamberlin at a mall like this one, and now look at her.”
Adrienne’s eyes widened in awe. Jules Chamberlin had just landed the cover of Marie Claire and was scooped up for a Maybelline Fresh Faced campaign.
“She’s in Milan right now, and I’ll see her next month at Fashion Week. Jules is walking the runway with Linda Evangelista and Cindy Crawford and, at fourteen, is the youngest model I’ve discovered to date.”
“Wow.” Adrienne was amazed, daring to dream she would be next.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”
“I’m fifteen,” Adrienne offered.
“Perfect! Most models get their big break around fifteen. This is your time! You can’t afford to wait.”
Adrienne felt the effervescent sensation of joy well up in her core. She longed for more, to leave behind her small life in Bradenton and step into a career in the fashion industry. To be able to live a jet-setting lifestyle while modeling designer clothes in front of the camera would be a dream come true.
“Can you come to the studio for a screen test?” he asked, licking his lips, and when she hesitated, he was quick to add, “I’d be happy to talk to your mother and father about this opportunity and address their concerns. I bet they will have some reservations.”
At the mention of her mother, Adrienne’s joy completely fizzled out. Her mother, Alice, would never allow her to be photographed. Adrienne had been an unplanned, surprise addition to an already broken family unit. The seven years between Adrienne and her sister, Davina, created a distance between them they’d never figured out how to bridge. The only thing that united them was a shared aversion to their mother’s doomsday personality that seemed to intensify after their father left. Alice was an anxious woman who saw danger lurking around every corner.
It was a stifling dynamic that left Adrienne and her sister feeling suffocated as they grew up. Often, after her third glass of wine, Alice would drone on and on about worthy pursuits. According to her, fashion and makeup were dead-ends filled with uncertainty and would destine her for destitution. Instead, Alice counseled her daughters to chase the more stable pursuits of nursing, accounting, law, or education.
Alice was especially pleased when Davina followed her sage advice and made the announcement she was pre-law before she escaped to Stanford. The school was prestigious, but more importantly, it was as far away as Davina could physically be from her helicopter mother and still be in the continental United States.
Davina never looked back. She never came home, never called, and she left a hole in Adrienne’s heart a mile wide. Though they’d never been as close as Adrienne wanted because of the age gap, the unbroken bond formed by siblings from shared childhood experiences bound them together. The day Davina packed her few worldly possessions into her hatchback and drove away was the first day Adrienne felt truly lonely. She was stuck at home, alone with her hovering mother.
Adrienne found solace in the library where she devoured fashion magazines. Swiping through their slick glossy pages filled with glamorous models, she imagined a bigger life. One that included beautiful clothing and travel to exotic locations far from the melted concrete and punishing humidity of summers in Tampa Bay. She was looking for any ticket out, and when she shot up almost six inches the summer after seventh grade, instead of studying, she practiced walking around the house with a book on her head while her mother was at work. She spent hours in front of the mirror, teaching herself to apply the makeup she kept hidden between her mattress and the wall.
The card she now grasped between her fingers was her ticket out, but after years of safety programming, her first instinct was to refuse. To subscribe to the same fear that kept her mother paralyzed.
“I don’t think my mom will let me,” she admitted sadly, attempting to hand the card back to him.
He gently pushed her hand away. “Why don’t you keep it and see if you can figure something out? I believe you have that star quality every agent is looking for, and I am never wrong.”
His bold confidence in her shattered her fears. She always felt she was destined to fly when all Alice wanted to do was clip her wings and keep her grounded in the name of safety.
Adrienne tucked the card in her pocket. “I’ll see what I can do.”
That a stranger saw valuable qualities in her was a thrilling departure from her dull reality. Adrienne dreamed of the day she would be discovered, and now the golden ticket was in her pocket. As she watched him stride confidently away and disappear into the crowd, she had to fight the urge to punch her fist in the air in victory. When he turned the corner, she gave in to her excitement.
Floating on cloud nine, she pulled the card out again and gazed down at it. The thick cardstock felt legitimate in her inexperienced hand. In bold block letters, his phone number was printed at the bottom. This was the proof from the universe she’d been looking for. Instead of floating through life, this card was a solid vote for the future she’d been dreaming about. A model! She was going to be a model! She tucked it away into the hidden compartment in her wallet. She’d find a way. After all, when your destiny called, you needed to answer.
Two weeks later, she was hyperventilating in the dressing room of his downtown studio. At first, she’d been awestruck and speechless as he led her through the studio to the dressing room. Her backpack was slung over her shoulder, jammed full of makeup and an outfit she’d agonized over choosing with the tags still on. She took it all in, her gaze lingering on the stand where the camera waited as her eyes adjusted to the huge bank of soft lights in front of an infinity cove. In movies and on television shows, fashion sets were portrayed as teeming with people, from the designers to the photographers and their technical assistants. Her first niggle of doubt crept in when she realized they were alone. The distinct absence of noise made her insecurities well up, and she struggled to silence them.
Adrienne busied herself and set down her backpack in the dressing room. Her heart dropped when she got a glimpse of the garment rack pushed against the wall. It was filled with hangers draped with lingerie and bathing suits. The hangers screeched in protest as she rifled through the options one by one embarrassed at the minuscule strips of fabric that composed them.
A soft knock at the door startled her and she heard Denny’s voice through it. “Is everything okay in there?”
She opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Um…” She wasn’t sure how to voice her discomfort without sounding like a petulant child.
“I thought you might be thirsty. Here’s a Coke.” He passed a glass filled with brown liquid to her hand. “If you’re nervous, I can add a little Jack to help loosen you up.”
“Jack?”
“Jack Daniels.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “It will be our little secret. Jules needed a nip for encouragement, too. It’s perfectly natural to feel self-conscious your first time on set.”
Relieved she wasn’t alone, she quickly agreed and opened the door further. “I guess if it worked for Jules, I’ll give it a try.” He pulled a flask from his pocket and tipped a little of it into the fizzy drink. When she took a sip, she wasn’t prepared for the bite of the liquor, but a few minutes later when she felt her hard edges soften, her limbs lengthen, and her fists unclench, she was grateful she’d decided to take him up on his offer.
“Why don’t you pick out what you’ll be most comfortable in and we’ll get started whenever you’re ready.” His voice was infused with calm professionalism. “Heels too.”
“Okay,” she agreed and shut the door behind him. Scanning the options, she picked out a tiny bikini, tying the Day-Glo pink strings behind her neck. She’d developed early and easily filled out the top, and her hips curved in ways that belied her fifteen years. Pulling on a pair of white stilettos that pinched her toes, she teetered out into the studio where Denny was testing the flashes. Unsure where to put her hands and feeling exposed, she hugged her arms to her chest.
“You look sensational in person. Let’s see how it translates on film. Stand here.” He turned on music and demonstrated a gentle sway. “Just move your body to it. Do what feels natural.”
None of this feels natural, she thought as she fought through her fears.
This is your ticket out of Bradenton and out from under your mother’s thumb. Even Davina will have to pay more attention to you when you’re walking the runways.
Quelling the fear that threatened to destroy her big break, she closed her eyes and began to rock to the beat, letting the music transport her. She felt warmth flood through her as she threw her shoulders back and then clamped one hand on her hip and rolled it seductively toward the camera like she’d practiced a million times in the bathroom she shared with her mother. Behind her closed eyelids, the flashes registered.
“Great work,” he praised as another string of flashes popped, and she felt her inhibitions weakening. “Now, let’s try a few with your eyes open.” Then, with a slight grin, he gave her directions. “Stare down the lens of the camera.” She followed his instructions to the letter as a series of flashes burst in quick succession. “Uh-huh, hmm. That’s good. Give me more.” The positive reinforcement of his murmured approval emboldened her further. She rocked her body forward and then turned away from him, cranking her head over her shoulder with a playful expression she’d spent hours practicing in the full-length mirror at home.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, and she felt the last of her fears melt away. The fear and anxiety that were forever present in her mind flitted out the window thanks to a few kind words from a stranger and the power of her new friend Jack. She felt warm and pliable like she was made of taffy.
“Outfit change,” he declared, resting the camera on his thigh. “Let’s try something from the lingerie options in the dressing room.”
Adrienne gulped and her palms moistened.
“There is nothing to worry about, sweetheart. I am a professional. When I look at you, it’s about the art and the connection with the camera. I am trying to pull the greatness I see in you out for the world to see.”
She felt her cheeks flush warm but nodded anyway.
“I can tell you’re nervous, but I’d really like to see you push past it. When you are in Paris at the House of Gadot, modeling lingerie on the runway, this will be an everyday occurrence. I am giving you the perfect opportunity to get your jitters out before your career blows up.”
“Okay,” she conceded. It made sense, and she was determined to acquire the skills she would need as a professional model.
He walked over to the bar cart and emptied another Coke into a clean glass then held it up for her. “Maybe another visit from our friend Jack would help?”
“Yes,” she agreed and was grateful when he put the drink in her hand. This time, she didn’t have to fight to swallow it. She welcomed the bitterness, knowing it would help her relax. Just this once. Next time, it won’t be so difficult.
“Choose whatever lingerie you wish from the wardrobe cart and come out when you’re ready.”
Adrienne walked back into the tiny changing room and sorted through her options. She pulled a black lace teddy from the rack, based solely on the fact it had the most fabric of the choices in front of her. The discovery it was entirely see-through when she put it on sent initial shivers through her. To combat them, she picked up the glass and guzzled the remains of the drink. A few minutes later, she felt her thoughts slow down and the sensation of ease increase. She tugged the strap of the teddy over her shoulder. It was cut so high on her hip, her legs seemingly stretched on forever. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror after she’d added a lush red lipstick, she had to admit the transformation was stunning. A full-blown woman reflected back at her, and she forced herself to align mentally with this new version of herself.
Adrienne rooted through the available shoes, then pulled a pair of black sky-high heels from the bottom of the wardrobe rack and stepped into them. Then she opened the door and strode out into the studio where Denny’s eyes lit up when they landed on her.
“Is this okay?” she asked shyly.
“Perfect choice. It really shows off your legs.” He directed her in front of the bank of soft lights, and she felt the awkwardness dissipate. She moved more confidently now, thrusting her hips from side to side and laughing into the rafters. She welcomed the ease as her confidence soared.
“Gorgeous!” He coached her from ten feet away. “You’re incredible!” The compliments shored up her resources, and she started to enjoy the experience.
“Drop the strap,” he directed. “Now give me that drop-dead gorgeous look. Yes!” The lights snapped in rapid succession as Adrienne felt herself channeling power from within. Her expression changed rapidly from flash to flash. One moment, she was doe-eyed and innocent, the next, she was a playful vixen, and the next, she was a sultry vamp as she bit her bottom lip. Encouraged by his admiration, she continued to prance and twirl and laugh for the camera.
He lowered the light and walked closer until she could feel his breath on her face. He reached up to smooth a wayward hair from her cheek. “Baby, you are beautiful. I think once the art directors see these test shots, there is going to be a bidding war to see who will represent you. Pack your bags because you are going places!”
“Really?” She felt a giddy effervescent thrill rush through her.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He tipped his chin to the side and studied her, hemming and hawing for a minute before deciding to speak. “I have a contract with a jewelry designer, but they have a special request. I’m not sure if you are up for it.” He dangled the assignment like an irresistible carrot, and she was too inexperienced to understand it was poisoned. “It’s a skin campaign. They want the jewelry to be the focus.”
Her brow wrinkled, not quite following him.
“It would require you to be au natural.”
“Naked?” She gasped.
“Yes. Wearing just this.” He walked over to where a black velvet case held strings of black pearls. Layered in an array of sizes, it created a scarf effect when he pulled it from the case and held it up in the light.
She tentatively took the pearls from him and held the strings up to her chest. A couple of strands grazed her nipples, and the cold pearls raised gooseflesh on her arms. She reasoned her initial discomfort away, looking down at her lace-covered torso. “I guess I wouldn’t be much more exposed than I am right now in this lingerie.”
“Exactly.” Denny grinned.
“Okay,” she heard herself agree from farther away. She tried to fasten the clasp of the pearls around her neck and couldn’t make her fingers work. Noticing her struggle and ever the gentleman, Denny pulled them from her hands.
“Need a little help?” he asked, his voice stretching long and languid. A few seconds later, she felt his warm fingers brush her neck, a not altogether unpleasant sensation. He took her hand and tugged her gently to the set where a soft fur rug was spread on the ground. She stumbled and laughed when he caught her in his arms.
“Can you step out of the lingerie?” she heard him ask, and her fingers, feeling thick and rubberized, tugged at the straps ineffectively.
“Need more help?”
She nodded and giggled again as a floating sensation disconnected her from her body.
“After these get out, baby, you can write your own check. Paris, Milan, New York? They will all start calling.”
She let out a fluttery breath and followed the rest of his directions for the next several minutes. On her knees, she sank deeply into the thick fur rug on the floor. Then she fell down onto her bottom and her eyes grew heavy. All the while, the flashes kept popping. The last sound she remembered was the popcorn sound of pearls bouncing on the hard floor around her and the hum of something she couldn’t identify.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as the pearls rolled away to the darkened corners of the room.
“Nothing to worry about. You be a good girl and take a nap. I’ll make sure you get back on the bus after you’re rested.”
She felt fingers brush her skin and fought the heaviness of her eyelids. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her fight or flight instincts kicked in, but the liquor dulled her mind and the heaviness overtook her. She closed her eyes, having no choice but to give in to sleep.