Etoile (The Mannequin Series) (14 page)

“
Je t'offre un verre?”
he tried again as he offered to buy her a drink, gesturing towards one of the bar's outdoor tables. To add insult to injury, he reached out and grabbed her wrist so that she couldn't scurry away this time. Elodie let out an exasperated sigh and opened her mouth to finally give him a piece of her mind when a familiar voice interrupted her.

“Hey, fucker, let go of my girlfriend,” Tyler called out as he stepped out from the agency's doorway, where he had been smoking cigarettes with two giggly female models. Elodie couldn't help but feel a flicker of jealousy as she wondered who the girls were, and tried her best not to beam when she saw them mouth the word “girlfriend” to each other in disappointment.

Tyler began to walk towards them with an arrogant smirk on his face, flicking his cigarette butt in the direction of the creep, barely missing the French boy by an inch. He looked and sounded the part of Ugly American with his white tee, jeans, Pierre Hardy sneakers and backpack. “I said let go,” he warned again as he got closer. The smile vanished from his face as he put his hand on the top of Elodie's head and stared down at the obnoxious French douchebag. “This. Mine. You. Fuck off.”

The cheesy blonde, who now noticed that Tyler was a good four inches taller than he, shook his head in annoyance and finally let go of her thin wrist. “Fuck you,” he spit out in his thick accent before retreating to his friends who were waiting at the entrance of the alleyway. As they walked away, Elodie could hear him loudly cursing in French about how he could have beaten the American jerk up if only he wasn't so hungover.

“Why are you cheating on me with that dick,” Tyler joked as he spun Elodie's head towards his face. “I didn't know you liked guys who wear women's pants. Lend me yours.”

While trying her best to hide her smile, Elodie shook his hand off and tried her best to fix her disheveled hair. Her bag swung haphazardly in the air and bumped into her cheek, knocking her sunglasses down her nose. Tyler laughed and helped to comb her hair with his fingertips as she tucked her sunglasses into her bag. “There. Perfect.”

“Thank you,” she muttered quietly as her cheeks burned. Did he not remember how mortifying that night had been for her? Oblivious to her frazzled state, he gave her a big smile and picked up her suitcase, walking straight into the agency without so much as glancing at his two former smoking buddies. Elodie could feel them watch her enviously as she scuttled after him. “Since when he has girlfriend?” she heard one of the girls say with a Dutch accent as the door closed behind them.

“DELIVERY!” Tyler called out obnoxiously as he stomped into the agency and plopped the suitcase down onto an expensive-looking tufted velvet bench. A small pug sauntered over to him and he tucked the tiny dog under his arm as he led Elodie to one of the bookers at the end of the long row of computers. “She's here,” he announced in a bored tone to Jennifer, Elodie's agent for the French office.

“Tyler, two hands!” another booker scolded from the other end as she carefully eyed the overly excited dog that was flailing around under his armpit. Tyler simply laughed before grabbing the dog in both of his hands and settling into a chair near the wall of comp cards, making faces at the pup as it slobbered enthusiastically.

“Hi, Elodie,” Jennifer said in a tired voice without even bothering to look up from her typing. The two bookers flanking her station were both inhaling black coffee and speaking rapidly on their phones, making appointments for the models for whom they were responsible. “We have you guys scheduled to do a fitting at the design studio all day tomorrow, so try to be there at 8 AM sharp. As you know, it is on rue François 1er. We can arrange for a driver to take you there. Go speak with the accountant later to settle your charges. Try not to look bloated and don't stay out late tonight.” With that, Jennifer finally looked up to give Elodie a look of warning, to which she nodded meekly.

“I have you set up in the model flat off of
Rue Rambuteau in the 4
th
arrondissement until tomorrow night,” she continued briskly as she began to type again fervently. “There are four girls in there right now, but you make five and four more are arriving tomorrow. Now the Ero people want to shoot in Provence, so you will fly out on Sunday evening via jet to Marseilles. You will all be staying at Olivier's friend's villa and will shoot all day Monday and Tuesday. You will fly back on jet to CDG and we will arrange the return flight for you to leave from there. Good?”

The barrage of details made Elodie's head spin as she tried to gather her thoughts. She had never even been to the South of France! Trying to play it cool, she hid her excitement and gave a small nod.

Jennifer gave her a tight smile back. “Good. I'll print out your call sheet for tomorrow and your itinerary. Make sure to check in with the accountant, okay?”

Elodie ignored the last part and didn't bother, as she wasn't in the mood to crunch numbers with the surly woman wielding a calculator. It wasn't like meeting with her would make any difference in her debts, she thought as she made her way towards her suitcase in the hallway. Hearing about them would merely add a somber mood to her trip. She would just have to ask  for her final balances when she got back to New York.

After collecting the warm stack of papers from Jennifer and air-kissing her goodbye, Elodie began to plot her escape. Despite her best efforts to make it quietly past Tyler unnoticed, she heard the echoing footsteps of his sneakers behind her as she picked up her luggage from the bench.

“Where'd they stick you?” he asked in a taunting tone as he set his four-legged playmate on the floor. The wrinkled dog scurried across the black and white marble tiles and back into the workroom. Lucky you, Elodie thought as she watched the curled end of its tail disappear through the large doorway.

Clearing her throat, she fidgeted with the handle of her roller and avoided his eyes. “4
th
arrondissement. Near Hôtel de Ville. So, I should get going. See you tomorrow!”

She heard him laugh and felt her body stiffen as he put his arm around her shoulders and grabbed the handle of her luggage with his other hand. The all-too-familiar scent of his Yves Saint Laurent L'Homme cologne made her stomach lurch as she avoided his stare. “Why are you acting all weird?” he asked in a bemused tone. “Do you have a crush on me? I mean, I'm flattered, but...”

“The other day was wrong. I am sorry about that,” Elodie cut him off as he guided her down the stairs, his arm still around her shoulder. Though her mouth was protesting, she couldn't bring herself to shrug him off as she continued to breathe in his scent.

“You're right,” he agreed once they were outside on the sidewalk. Lighting a cigarette, he looked at her with a mischievous expression as he passed her one. “We should finish what we started.”

Elodie gulped. “That is not what I meant...”

“I mean, they probably put you in a shitty apartment with like five other girls, right?” Tyler asked as he held his lighter up for her. Try eight, Elodie thought bitterly as she took a deep drag. “And they're going to charge you like, what, 15 euro each time some asshole driver picks you up to drive you when they're the ones who put you so far away? That apartment's all the way across town.”

Even thinking about her constantly mounting debts made her head hurt. This Ero campaign could be her ticket to It Model status and financial freedom. While she was appreciative to Tyler for helping her secure the job, she didn't want to risk her budding relationship with James by succumbing to his, albeit irresistible, charm.

“So just stay with me,” he continued as he began to stretch his toned arms for the viewing pleasure of the middle-aged women sitting on the patio of the nearby brasserie. Elodie fought the urge to roll her eyes as she heard the three ladies titter loudly over their glasses of Sancerre, their eyes fixated on the handsome young man modelling in the middle of the street. “I'm staying at Soren's apartment in the 8
th
arrondissement. Have the whole place to myself. We can walk to the Ero studio, you know. No cramped, overpriced apartment and no perverted driver.”

Tempting as it was, Elodie held her ground. “No, but thank you,” she replied with a small smile. “My driver should be coming soon anyway.”

Like a knight in shining armor, a dark sedan came to whisk her away before Tyler could come up with a snarky response. Elodie waved at him through the back window, and she watched his confused face get smaller and smaller as her driver made his way out of the alley. Crisis averted.

Eighteen

“Oh my God, it's her,” a scrawny American teenager blurted out as she jumped up from her recumbent state on the tiny sofa.

As she entered the messy apartment, Elodie couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the lingering aroma of stale cigarettes mixed with microwave popcorn that hit her. Clothes and towels were scattered everywhere, as were half-eaten bags of Speculoos biscuits and empty toiletry bottles. She grimaced as she noticed someone's retainers sitting out on the corner of the living room table.

Looking in the direction of the commotion, she saw a familiar looking face, though she couldn't put her finger on where she had seen it before. The girl had long brown hair and thick eyebrows that likely made appearances in every makeup artist's dreams.

“Who?” another girl asked as she popped her head into the living room.

The American looked directly at Elodie with rounded eyes. “You're dating Tyler Peeters, aren't you?” And, with that, the owner of the floating head came zooming into the room, her light brown hair swishing behind her.

They were the two young models that Tyler had been smoking with earlier, Elodie soon realized. While rapidly shaking her head, she reassured them, “No, no, we are just friends. He was just joking. He likes to make jokes that are not very funny. I am Elodie, by the way.”

“I'm Lauren. That's Klara. Oh my God, what's it like to be friends with him?”

“
Ja
, what it like?” the one named Klara asked desperately.

Elodie was taken aback at the enthusiasm for Tyler. She knew that he was very in demand with many of the top designers and casting directors, but she hadn't realized just how popular he was with the teenaged crowd. “Um, it is okay?” she attempted as she shrugged her shoulders. “We are doing the Ero campaign together.”

Lauren let out a deafening squeal that caused Elodie to reflexively close her eyes and hunch her shoulders. Klara seemed unaffected by the high-pitched noise. “You're friends with Tyler Peeters AND you booked an Ero campaign? Oh my God! Can we switch lives?”

Two more girls came running out from one of the bedrooms. “What is happening?” a wide-eyed Russian girl asked. The other girl, presumably Eastern European as well, looked at Elodie quizzically. They, too, looked prepubescent, both with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She couldn't help but feel worn and aged around this energetic gaggle of pretty young things. She suddenly missed Heddi, Tatiana and Jelena terribly.

As Lauren caught them up on what was apparently Elodie's greatest life accomplishment, as well as her Ero campaign, the four childlike giants stared at her in awe. She gave them a weak smile before asking, “So, where is there a free bed?”

“You can
totally
have mine,” Lauren cried out. “There are four beds in each room, but the bed that I use has the comfiest mattress. You can totally use it if you want!”

Elodie really wanted to pat this kid on the head and slip her a Ritalin. “Oh, I am fine with any free bed. Do not worry about me!” She attempted to brush off their eagerness with a small laugh, but they continued to gaze at her in wonderment.

After clearing her throat nervously, Elodie made her way into one of the bedrooms. As expected, it was packed to the brim with the finest offerings from Ikea, with each bed proudly displaying 50-thread count sheets. Why was she paying 150 euro for two days of this? Shaking her head in annoyance, she dragged her luggage next to the bed and made her way back out into the living room.

“I love your bag,” Lauren informed her wholeheartedly. “And your shoes. And your jeans.”

“Me too,” one of the Russian girls clambered to agree. “Oh, and I am Lana and she is Mira,” she continued, pointing at her friend, who nodded fervently at her introduction.

“Nice to meet you all,” she said as she gave them a bright smile. “So what do you all do for fun around here? Do you like Paris?” she asked as she took a seat on the floor where they had congregated.

All of the girls nodded cheerfully as Lauren piped up. “We just drink, smoke, hang out with friends. We go to the same castings with the same designers who say the same shitty things all the time. We hang out with the male models a lot, but none of them are Tyler Peeters, you know?”

Elodie tried her best not to roll her eyes at the excessive Tyler idolization. Was he really that great?

“And we love to eat. Paris has great food. I
love
the snacks at Monoprix.
So
much better than Walmart. We're
always
starving,” Lauren continued as she offered Elodie the tray of Speculoos cookies and a bag of Lay's potato chips. When she declined, the rest of the girls dug in and munched happily as they continued to blabber on about the male models they despised. Elodie couldn't help but watch enviously as they made the most of their teenage metabolisms.

“How old are all of you?” she asked curiously. Though America had a few loosely-enforced regulations on the ages of working models, she knew that markets in Europe had little to none.

“I am 15,” Klara stated before motioning towards her friends. “Lauren and Mira also 15, and Lana just turn 14 in January. How old are you?”

An involuntary shudder passed through Elodie's seasoned 19-year old body as she quickly thought of a way to change the subject. Was she really hanging out in squalor with a 14-year old? And why was a 14-year old smoking cigarettes unsupervised in the middle of a foreign city? She was suddenly very thankful to Janet for having guided her during those vulnerable early years.

As if on cue, her phone began to ring from deep within her cavernous purse. The four girls looked on in anticipation as she dug it out and looked at the screen. With a small sigh, she answered it on the fourth ring. “Yes?”

“That's no way to greet your hero, Cinderella,” Tyler joked in response to her unenthusiastic tone. She winced at the reference to her drunken blubbering. “How's your prison cell?”

“Brilliant,” Elodie replied shortly as she picked a stray piece of lint off of her pant leg. She could see that the girls were straining to hear whose voice was coming through on the other line. The air was still as they stopped their noisy chewing, watching her every move with halted breaths. Lauren raised her glorious eyebrows as she mouthed his name to Klara, who shrugged her shoulders and shook her head with a clueless expression on her face.

“Let's grab dinner. I was going to go on a run in that direction anyway,” he suggested in a bored tone that rivaled her own.

Elodie let out a snort. “I thought you said that this was
all
the way across town? You are planning on going on an hour-long run?”

“It's called
exercise
. How else do you think I keep in shape?”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your exercise, because I am not hungry,” she stated calmly, trying not to acknowledge the four sets of beady eyes that were fixated on her.

She heard him laugh on the other line. “I knew it. You don't eat.”

“I do too!” she replied back huffily, offended at his comment. Even if it bordered on the truth, it was still presumptuous.

“Then eat with me. Call you when I get there! Don't bother trying to hide because I already got the address from Jen. Wear something cute too, because the street photographers here are obsessed with me.” And with that, the call ended.

Elodie stared at the black screen of her phone in disbelief, though she felt a flutter in her stomach at the same time. She had roughly one hour to get herself presentable. For the street photographers, you know?

“Oh my God, was that who I think it was?” Lauren squeaked out. The kid was visibly trembling.

A slow smile spread across Elodie's face as she reveled in her genius.

“How would you guys like to actually
meet
Tyler?”