Following Isaac (4 page)

Chapter 6

Isaac

It was June first when I was last in Los Angeles, and I didn't return until the following December. I shot a second campaign with Tang, but it was down in San Diego, and I didn't end up going up to L.A. on that trip. San Diego was just as impressive as L.A., so I wasn't that disappointed.

This upcoming shoot was indoors in the ballroom of the hotel where I'd also be staying. It was a different hotel than my last trip, but Gail thought it'd be easier for me to stay where we'd be shooting, and I agreed. I wasn't picky about where the agencies put me up as long as it had a bed. Shane complained about accommodations more than I did, but he didn't really mean it. He got a kick out of joking about living the highlife, and we both cracked up at his entitled rants. It was all in good fun.

Shane was coming with me on this trip. I didn't mind traveling alone, but I tried to bring him on as many as I could. The agency covered all of my expenses, but I paid for Shane's plane ticket out of pocket and didn't mind since I preferred having him around.

We flew first class from JFK to LAX. It was cold enough to freeze spit in New York, but the pilot came over the intercom when we were an hour from LAX announcing that the weather was a cool sixty degrees in Los Angeles. Shane and I were both aware of what kind of forecast we were headed for, and packed accordingly, but we still smiled when the pilot announced the welcomed temperature.

"Just leave your jacket on till we get in the car so we can make it through the airport without a hassle," Shane said.

The ad campaign for the Dior fragrance I shot last time I was in L.A. gave me a lot of new exposure, and it was getting increasingly difficult to travel without being stopped. I was thankful for my fans, and hated to be rude, so most of the time I tried to bundle up—especially if I was in a hurry.

Just as I was thinking about maneuvering through the airport, a girl stopped in the isle next to Shane and stooped down to speak to us. She looked over her shoulder nervously as if hoping she wouldn't get caught in first class.

"I'm sorry, but I think we're landing soon, and I'd just really regret it if I knew you were on my flight and I didn't talk to you. I bought that perfume because of that ad you were in. I'm wearing it now."

She pushed up her own sweater sleeve and took a huge whiff of her forearm before extending it. She was aiming for me, but her arm didn't quite make it past Shane, so he leaned in to smell it. That made her smile at him like she was noticing him for the first time. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that he approved of the smell of her arm, and she smiled shyly as she put her sweater down.

"I'm going to need you to go ahead and find your seat, ma'am, we'll be starting our descent in just a moment."

I glanced at the flight attendant, who gave me an apologetic look. "We were just catching up for a second," I said. "If it's okay, she'll head back to her seat in just a minute."

The attendant was appeased once she saw that I didn't mind her being there, and the girl beamed. I was a terrible judge of age, but she seemed to be close to my age. I assumed she was in her twenties. She was sexy too. She looked like all the other beach babies out here—not a single thing out of place. Honey blonde gorgeousness with all the bells and whistles just kneeling down in the isle, begging for my attention. Let me tell you right now, it was hard not to let this kind of shit go to my head.

"Oh my God, thank you so much for doing that!" she whispered excitedly when the attendant turned to walk down the isle.

I smiled at her. "What's your name?"

"Emily, Em, it's Emily, but most people call me Em. It doesn't really matter. Emily or Em is fine. Your name's Nick, right?"

"It's Isaac, actually. My middle name's Nicholas, and a lot of my family calls me Nicky. I go by that on my social media."

"That's right. I think I knew that and I forgot. I'm sorry I'm so nervous right now."

"No worries, people call me Nicky all the time."

She handed me an airline napkin that was folded in half. Her hand trembled, so she decided to thrust it at me. I caught it awkwardly, and she cringed, making me smile.

"I wrote down the name of a club. I don't know what you're doing tonight, but I'll be there with some of my friends."

"Thanks," I said. I held the napkin, but didn't look at it. It was Saturday, and I didn't start the shoot till Monday, so it was actually a possibility that I'd take her up on the offer.

"It would be the most amazing thing ever if you came out," she said.

"We'll try to make it," Shane said.

"I have lots of friends," she added, looking to him for some reinforcement.

"I like friends," he said.

"They like you," she fired back.

"I might have to talk Nicky here into going out tonight."

She instantly flashed him the most ridiculous puppy dog eyes ever. "Please talk him into it!"

"Do you have your phone?" I asked.

Her eyes got huge and she stared at me. "Me?"

"Yeah, I was gonna snap a picture with you before you have to leave."

"Shit, I didn't bring it up here with me. I could just run back there and get it. I'm only on isle twelve."

"I got this," Shane said. He held up his phone. He stood up to let her sit next to me, but instead of sitting in his seat, she plopped down right on my lap and turned to the side so she could wrap her arms tightly around me while Shane snapped a picture.

She went back to her seat with whispered pleas for us to meet her later that night. Shane handed me his phone and I laughed as I stared at the photo. I was smiling broadly at the camera. She was smiling like crazy too, only her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. It looked like she was holding on to me for dear life, and for some reason it made my day.

"Text that to me please so I can post it," I said.

"She's a dime, dude, we're totally going to wherever's written down on that napkin."

I'd already forgotten I was even holding the thing. I handed him back his phone and unfolded it. It read:

I'll have a few of my friends with me at Major League tonight. Please come, Emily.

She included her phone number.

I handed it to Shane who put it into his pocket. He shifted his attention to his phone and I used the last few minutes of the flight to rest my eyes. Apparently, we now had plans for the night.

We got through the airport and found our driver with no problems. It was a thirty-minute drive to our hotel, which turned out to be even better than the last place. The concierge was helpful, and showed Shane and me to the ballroom where I'd be shooting before leading us to our room. It was an ornately furnished boutique hotel called St. Andrews that almost had an enchanted feel to it. Maybe it just struck me that way because the ballroom reminded me of something you'd see in Cinderella or Alice in Wonderland.

I'd been fortunate enough to be photographed in some beautiful rooms, but this one topped the charts. The black and white checkerboard floors looked to be made from marble, and it glistened as if it had just been polished. There were huge windows with ornately carved sills, and the silk curtains that hung from ceiling to floor were open letting in a ton of natural light.

"This is off the chain," Shane said.

"Yes sir, it's quite a popular room," the concierge, whose name was Gus said proudly.

"It's amazing," I said. "I guess we should get to our room, if you don't mind showing us to the elevator."

"I don't mind at all."

Shane and I followed Gus to the elevator. He assured us our bags were in the room and said to call if we needed anything at all.

I went to my bedroom to shower and hang out by myself a little bit and Shane stretched out on the couch in the living room. The way he kicked his shoes off and settled into the couch made me feel pretty confident he'd be sleeping within minutes. I had a lot of notifications waiting for me when I looked at my phone, but I didn't take the time to look at them. It had been a while since the last time I opened my phone, and the random social media notifications had piled up. Not many people had my phone number, though, so there were only a handful of texts.

One of them was from Shane. It was the photo from the plane with the girl squeezing the daylights out of me. I smiled again as I stared down at it. I saved it to my photos before posting it on Instagram. I wrote a comment with it that said, "A friendly welcome back to L.A." I stared at it for two minutes while the first likes and comments rolled in. One of the very first comments was one that said, "That's meeeeee!" and I smiled at the thought of the girl on the plane as I put my phone away.

I showered, the whole time thinking about the amazing directions my life had taken. I was sore from yesterday's workout, and I stretched out in the shower, letting the jets hit me from four different directions. I loved the lavish lifestyle. I loved the women, the attention, the money, and the shower jets that sprayed me from all angles. But that's the trick—when you love something, you can't help but fear that it'll be taken away. It's an unfortunate but unavoidable side effect of love. That being said, I took moments like this one in the shower to remind myself of how fortunate I was. I needed to stay humble and appreciative of every moment. It was easy to feel good about myself when hot women were watching Instagram to see if I'd post a picture of them, but I knew my success was fragile and dependent on me looking as good or better than I did right now. It was a pressure I didn't mind handling, though—well worth it for all the spoils.

After my shower, I fell onto my bed and crashed for two hours. I woke up to Shane shaking my foot.

"I'm hungry," he said as I opened my eyes.

"What time is it?" I moaned.

"Almost six, but that's like nine to us."

"What are we gonna eat?" I asked.

"I don't know. That's why I'm waking you up. You really need to eat clean since you're shooting Monday, and you can't be drinking a ton tonight."

"I'm not the one who made plans for us to go party," I said, rolling over to get my T-shirt from the edge of the bed.

"I didn't say you couldn’t have anything to drink, but we're not going nuts. Gail said she needs you in top form on this one."

"She says that every time."

"Yeah, but this was the first time you told me she said it."

"Oh, so that makes it different?"

"Yes," he said. "Now it's my responsibility to make sure you're ready."

I burned a lot of calories working out, so it wasn't necessarily that I was counting calories—Shane just swore that my body showed better when I was eating clean. I was almost sad I told him what Gail said, because I happened to be hungry for a burger and fries.

"Can't we just go through an In and Out burger?"

"Absolutely not. Did you talk to Gail about a ride? I'm not trying to pull up to the club in a cab."

"What's wrong with a cab? You too good to ride in a cab?" I asked.

"Isaac Charles doesn't roll up to the club in a big yellow hoopty."

"We don't have to call the hoopty," I said, teasing him. "We can splurge and get the minivan this time."

"Are we seriously taking a cab?"

"No. I talked to Gail before I fell asleep. She said she could hook up a driver for the night, but probably only for a few hours since it was short notice."

"What's he gonna be driving?"

I reached over and hit him on the back of the head as I always did. "I got a text from her while I was sleeping that said we'll have Carl from nine to midnight," I said, flashing him my phone.

"Are we going to that club she wrote down on the napkin?" he asked.

"I thought so, but not necessarily just to meet her. I've heard good things about that club."

He laughed. "You can't even commit to a one night stand anymore, dude."

"It's not that. If anything it's that I'm tired of them."

"Let's do it. Let's go to Major League and see what's up. If it sucks, we'll have Carl bring us somewhere else."

Chapter 7

Becca

I fell into a strict, disciplined routine during my fall term, and by the end of it, I'd lost fifty pounds. I went from squeezing into a 16 to slipping on a pair of 10's, which was what Naomi wore. I was officially able to borrow her clothes, and that was a great thing since I didn't want to buy all new stuff till I was done losing weight.

I wasn't far from where I wanted to be. My goal weight was 135, which meant I was only five pounds away. It didn't seem like five pounds would make much of a difference, and I often wondered if I'd be happy with the way I looked once I got there. I'd definitely changed, but I still had a fair amount of curves that I concealed with Spanx every time I got dressed up or put on workout clothes.

I loved every minute of my new path.

It felt great to set a goal and achieve it. I'd never really tried to be disciplined before—in any area. Instead, I'd just gone through life trying to figure out the fastest way to get my desired outcome, and once I obtained that outcome, I quit whatever it was I was doing.

With the help of my coach I was doing it differently this time. Mark wasn't just a coach. He was first and foremost a fitness guy, but he often talked about success in life and obtaining goals, and I felt inspired to use excellence in everything I did instead of just going through the motions. His positive attitude kept me focused and inspired, and I was immensely grateful to have landed in his class. I was, of course paying for a membership at the gym now, since my trial period had long-since run out. It was expensive, but as a result of my new routine, I made time to pick up a couple extra hotels each week. I was making more money and even better, making contacts in a business I loved more and more.

It was now December and nearing the end of my fall term at school. I was working thirty hours a week in addition to going to school and the gym, but it honestly didn't seem like a struggle.

I'd lost sight somewhat of the fact that the whole reason for me starting this journey was to make a better first impression on Isaac Charles. Don't get me wrong. I still checked Instagram on a fairly regular basis and didn't hesitate to like and/or stare at the photos he posted. But over time, the journey became less about him and more about me. Every once in a while I'd look back at the photo I took with him at the hotel that day. I tried not to dislike the bigger version of myself I saw in the picture, because somewhere in the back of my mind I thought I might look like that again one day.

Isaac Charles and that photo crossed my mind one random Saturday afternoon in mid December, and the thought of him made me open Instagram. I hadn't looked at it since breakfast, but noticed that the first post on my feed was one he'd just posted a few minutes before. It was a photograph of him with a beautiful blonde sitting on his lap and squeezing his guts out.

I was entirely used to seeing him in pictures with beautiful girls. That was nothing new to me. The part that had me dropping my jaw was the caption, which indicated
that he was on his way to L.A.!

My heart began pounding and my palms immediately started sweating. I assumed he'd be staying in the same hotel, so I began making mental plans to go change one of the arrangements at The Crestwell within the next few days.

I had a lot of thoughts within the next few seconds, and one of the first things that crossed my mind was that I wasn't quite sure that I was ready for my big second, first impression just yet. I still had five pounds to go, and wasn't sure my confidence level was up for an attempt at running into him again.

I took a deep breath as I did a quick inventory of my feelings. There was only one thing to do. I dialed Naomi's number. "Hey, when are you coming over here?" I asked when I heard her pick up the phone.

"I'm like three minutes away. What's up?"

"That guy Isaac's on his way to L.A."

She was silent for a second. "Oh man, are you serious? Like right now?"

"I guess. The picture he posted looked like he was on a plane and said he was com—" I hesitated. "I don't know if I'll do anything about it. Just come over. I'll wait till you get here to talk to you."

"I'll see you in a sec."

I hung up with Naomi and a few minutes later she pulled up at the house. Uncle Greg wasn't ridiculously rich, but he made a good living at poker, and his house was roomy and nicely appointed with modern fixtures and furniture. He had a rock garden near the driveway and I was out there sitting on a big boulder when Naomi drove up.

"I can't believe it's your big moment!" she said, smiling as she got out of her car.

I scrunched up my face. "Don't say it like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it sounds really stalker-ish."

She leveled me with a stare and I sighed.

"It just feels weird to imagine that I started this whole thing for him—and I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I know I'm nowhere near the size of most of the girls he dates—not that I think I could
get
a date with him, I’m just saying…"

"You need to take it easy, Beck. You're not stalking anyone. You want to meet the guy and it's convenient that you know where he's staying so you can try to make that happen."

"Are you sure that's how it is? Because I want you to be honest with me if it's creepy of me to try to track him down after losing over fifty pounds."

She stared at me. "I seriously didn't even remember you were doing it for him until you said he was coming to L.A. just now. You're not a freak, Beck. You're just trying to say 'hi' to him or whatever."

"I don't even know if I'm good with where I'm at weight-wise."

She scrunched up her face. "Are you kidding? You must be crazy. You're so gorgeous, and you don't even know it, Beck. He'd be lucky to date you. Let's go to the mall to get you some new clothes and then let me do your hair and makeup."

Naomi sat on one of the boulders waiting for my response, and I stood and shuffled around on the smooth rocks, contemplating everything.

"Is it the first time he's been back since last summer?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I can't believe you're even thinking about it if you know you rarely get the chance to see him."

"I don't even know where he's staying."

"Why wouldn't he be staying at the same hotel?"

"He might be," I said, shrugging.

"So call them."

I'd been holding my phone, so I turned it over and dialed the number to The Crestwell. I could tell it was a guy named Andre by the sound of his voice.

"It's a beautiful day at The Crestwell, how can I help you?" he asked.

"Is this Andre?"

"Yes ma'am, may I ask who I'm speaking with?"

"It's Becca Gibson. I work with Signet doing the flowe—"

"Of course, Becca, what can I do for you my dear?"

"Is Stan there by chance?"

"No, I'm afraid he's off today. Can I help you with something?"

"I guess I could have just asked you in the first place, it's just that Stan and I had talked about it the last time he came in, and I well, anyway; I was wondering if you knew if a guy named Isaac Charles had reservations there. I won't blame you if you're not supposed to—" He laughed, and I cut off.

"He's not staying here," he said. "And I know that because I heard Shelby saying she saw on the internet that he was coming to L.A., and was bummed out that he wasn't staying with us this time."

"Oh, so he's not?"

"Not this time, I'm afraid. You're talking about the cologne model guy, right?"

"Yeah."

"No, honey, sorry. Hearts are breaking all over this place tonight."

We both laughed, though mine was fake.

"Thanks Andre."

"Wish I had better news."

"No worries."

"Bye, dear."

"Bye."

I looked up at Naomi.

"That solves that problem," I said.

"What, he's not staying there?"

"Nope."

"So you're just giving up?"

"What do you mean? I'm not hunting him down, that's for sure. I wouldn't know how to do that in the first place."

"Maybe he wrote his plans on Instagram," she said. "Maybe he mentioned what he was doing or where he was staying in the comments."

"I think it's best if we call it off."

"Let's go to the mall and get you an outfit just in case you change your mind."

I went for it. I agreed to buy myself a new outfit with her direction. It was a pair of faded, torn, skinny jeans with a loose, pink sweater that had a shimmer to it and an interesting, asymmetrical neckline that showed the navy tank underneath. She picked out a pair of simple slip on shoes that were pink and navy striped. I loved the whole outfit. It was something I would have picked for myself, and I felt great in it.

I stared at my phone from the passenger's seat of Naomi's car on the way home from the mall. I opened Instagram and scrolled through the first twenty or so photos in my feed. There was nothing from Isaac since the one with the girl hugging him.

I kept scrolling down and noticed a photo Signet Indoor Landscapes posted. The company I worked for had an Instagram account and frequently posted photos we took of our work. I let out a little sarcastic laugh.

"What?" Naomi asked.

"I was just looking at this photo Signet posted of an arrangement I did at The Hilton. That girl Bethany I work with intentionally doesn't like my photos."

"You can't dislike something on Instagram."

"You know what I mean," I said.

"She's the first one in line to like everyone else's posts, and when they post one of mine, she ignores it."

"I can't believe you even know that."

"I just can't understand doing that to someone. Why would she dislike me for no reason?"

"I don't know," Naomi said, "because she does. I told you maybe she's jealous. Who cares? You can't seriously waste time thinking about this girl and whether or not she likes your little pictures."

"I'm not trying to be sensitive or anything, it's just sort of mean."

"So let her be mean. Some people in the world are just mean."

"I don't get that."

"Well, it doesn't make it any less of a reality."

I resolved to stop wasting time on Instagram, but couldn't resist refreshing my feed one time before I quit. I gasped out loud when I saw the photo that Isaac posted only one minute before. @newyork_nicky, plain as day, dressed and ready to go out in a sleek, dark pair of slacks and dark colored fitted button-up shirt. I could see the contrast of his dark outfit and light eyes even though the photo wasn't a close up.

"What happened?"

"He just posted a photo and the caption said where he was going tonight."

"Are you serious? What'd it say?"

"It says, 'Seeing what L.A.'s all about tonight. Starting at Major League.' Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah, it's in Hollywood. Do you want to go?"

I felt a wave of nerves wash over me at the thought of running into him again. I glanced down at the photo. "He's so gorgeous that I can't do it, and at the same time, he's so gorgeous I can't stop myself."

"Come on. It's not like we had other plans."

Naomi and I got dressed and were at the club three hours later. She helped me with my hair and makeup, and I felt pretty good about myself when we left.

There was a line around the building, and we didn't make it inside until almost eleven. It was extremely packed in there, and we found it difficult to maneuver through the crowd, which was filled with girls who were at least ten times more comfortable in there than I was.

Naomi wasn't much of a club person either, but she treated it like a new adventure, and didn't seem daunted at all by the wall-to-wall people elbowing each other for a place to stand.

We tried not to be obvious about it, but we looked around for Isaac for about twenty minutes before assuming we wouldn't find him. Our assumption was confirmed when I overheard a couple of girls talking about how New York Nicky had been there, but was gone now.

Naomi and I decided to stay at the club for a while. We were both dressed and thought it might be fun. I wasn’t apt to chase him down any further, and even if I was, we had no idea where he went.

It turned out to be one of the best nights of my life, and not because I ran into Isaac or because anything monumental happened. It was a great night for one simple reason—guys paid attention to me. The male species as a whole noticed me in a way I'd never experienced before. Five guys asked me to dance and two of them asked for my phone number. Actually, I take back what I said earlier about nothing monumental happening. It was monumental. I got stared at like never before and, even though I was sort of mad at them for not wanting to do it till now, the attention was nice, and I found it difficult to stop smiling.