The Modeliser (18 page)

“You’re offering me a job?” Talia said slowly. “Why?” Alex
gritted his teeth in irritation. This was why he never did good turns.

“According to my sister you’re a great storyteller and you
know about the development process. Talia, trust me it’s a job offer not a
veiled attempt to recruit you for my harem,” Alex bit out letting his
irritation get the best of him. He watched her recoil and immediately regretted
his comment. Helena had warned him that Talia was vulnerable. “Look…” He
started, but she waved her hand at him.

“No thanks.”

“What?” Alex asked incredulous, so much for her needing a
job.

“Look it’s great what you and Helena are trying to do, but
seriously, we can’t work together and besides I’ve watched the kind of films
you do, they’re not really my cup of tea.” Talia turned and poured a coffee for
herself as Alex watched her. What a bitch, he thought as he watched her walk
out of the kitchen.

Hours later, in a small, unpretentious Italian café, Talia
related the morning’s events to her friend Simone.

“You did what?” Simone’s shriek echoed through the compact
dining area and the other patrons turned to stare at them before looking away.
Even in the small, out-of-the-way café, Simone drew second glances and not just
because of her tendency to talk loudly. Having been friends since they’d met on
the first day of secondary school, Talia was more than used to the attention
that Simone drew wherever they went. At eleven, they’d both been short,
bespectacled girls with neat cornrows, always with their hands up to answer
questions in class but within three years, a growth spurt had seen Simone shoot
up to model height and contact lenses a few years later had only served to
emphasize her striking looks. Simone though had little interest in the world of
modeling instead making her career as a documentary filmmaker.

“You did what?” Simone hissed again shaking her head at
Talia.

 
“Shush,” Talia
urged her friend knowing that it would do no good.

“You turned down a chance to be Alex Golden’s Development
person, are you fricking out of your mind?” It was a fair question and one that
Talia had asked herself all morning as she’d typed up her film review for Night
of the Slayed Virgins 7. Her damned pride was always getting her into trouble.

“Look I don’t like him, I don’t want to work for someone like
that.”

“Someone like what?” Simone countered. “A success? This could
open doors for you, here and in LA.”

“It’s not that simple,” Talia said wishing she’d not told
Simone anything at all.

“What’s complicated? Is there something here that you’re not
telling me? What am I missing?” Simone demanded.

“Nothing… it’s just..” Talia trailed off. She had no good
excuse.

“So what if he’s a Hollywood twat, this could be great for
your career Tal. I’d kill to get in with some Hollywood hotshot. I’d sell my
kidney, my grandma…. Anything,” Simone finished. Talia watched as her friend
tucked into a Tiramisu dessert shaking her head. Like her, Simone had been
working her way up the TV ladder as documentary director but she also dreamed
of crossing over into making feature films, films that were watched not just by
friends and family but also by millions of people all over the world. As girls
in school they’d talked constantly about their dreams of making it in
Hollywood, of leaving their dull inner London lives behind. Suddenly Talia knew
what she had to do.

Not
for the first time, Helena resisted the urged to hurl something at Gabe’s head
as once again another series of ideas were consigned to the dustbin.

“We are running out of time,” she said, watching as he padded
barefoot through his large, open plan Shoreditch studio. At first Helena had
been uncomfortable with the explicit sensuality of Gabe’s space. She felt
uncomfortable in the knowledge that he lived and worked here. One whole wall
was entirely glass, flooding the massive studio room with natural light and on
the other wall, along the exposed brick work were photographs – raw and
explicit and sexual, a sample of the type of earthy, no holds barred
photography that had made Gabe a legend in the business. Helena watched as he
finally dropped into a chair across from her. He leaned back watching her until
Helena too sat down.

“Why did you never model?” He asked and Helena was thrown by
the question.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“You have the height, the bone structure, the pedigree. You’d
have made a good model,” he said.

Helena
shrugged; it was a question that she had been asked many times in the past.

“No interest,” she replied. After a pause she turned to the
matter at hand. “Gabe we have almost nothing so far for the centenary issue
– I thought the Desire through the ages idea had something...” Helena’s
face fell as she saw the dismissive look in Gabe’s eyes. If they didn’t come up
with something, Helena feared that Tobias would help her pack her desk up and
escort her out of Époque House. Gabe rose and once again Helena felt herself
getting annoyed. What was it about Gabe? He never got riled, never got stressed
and once she’d arrived early to find him practicing yoga on the mezzanine level
of the studio. The view of his exposed torso had been enough to let her know
that Gabe had a physique that any one of his male models would die for. Now he
stretched his arms above his head, exposing a taut lower abdomen and a dark
whorl of hair that narrowed down under the waistband of his low-slung jeans.
Helena swallowed and turned away, these unexpected flashes of desire had begun
to happen more and more whenever she was in his presence and the sooner they
got the issue sorted and approved, the quicker she’d be able to get away from
him. Gabe spun back round and came around the desk to stand by her chair.

“Époque was founded by a mother and daughter, right?” He
asked. Helena nodded.

“Antoinette and Colette. They scandalised society with the
risqué pictures, they published Anais Nin stories…”

“Right. Right. That’s it.”

“What?” Helena asked

“That’s our theme for the centenary issues. Mothers and
Daughters.” Helena’s brow furrowed as she processed his words. “Think about it,
gorgeous mothers and their even more delicious daughters – we could find
every past Époque model and see what their daughters are like. Or famous
mothers and daughters.” Helena smiled as Gabe’s words began to work their magic
and the ideas began to flow. This was exactly the kind of theme that would work
with Époque – a mix of old and young, that could appeal to a wide range
of readers.

“This could be perfect,” she finally said and then she
flushed as Gabe gave her a wide smile.
 

Talia
walked slowly down the plush corridor of The Lanesborough her eyes fixed ahead
barely noticing the striking black and white photographs that lined the walls.
Her feet seemed unwilling to carry her further and she had to force herself to
keep going towards the Penthouse suite. Finally she stopped outside the door
and with a deep breath she knocked hard. She had barely a moment to compose
herself before the door was wrenched open from the inside and she was face to
face with Alex again. He looked surprised to see her and not particularly
pleased either.

“What are you doing here?” He asked rudely.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” As soon as she saw him, all
her good intentions had gone out of the window and the speech she had practised
with Simone after lunch was all but forgotten. Everything about him made her
want to slap his face. Alex was still staring at her as though weighing the
options, like he genuinely might turn her away, when a thought occurred to
Talia.

“Oh god, you’ve got some groupie here haven’t you?” She said.
Then an even worse thought came to mind. “Tamara isn’t here, is she?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed.

“And if I have?” Talia felt discomfited at the way his eyes
probed hers and she found she couldn’t hold his gaze. “Oh get off your high
horse and get in here,” he snapped already showing her his back and walking
away from the door, going back to sprawl on the couch.

Talia
walked gingerly into the suite, still not convinced that some model wouldn’t
emerge from the bedroom clad only in her underwear.

“Well,” Alex asked and Talia blushed as she realised that he
was staring at her, waiting for her to explain why she had shown up at his
hotel.

“You weren’t picking up your phone?” She said and winced at
how accusing she sounded. “I was thinking about what we talked about today?”
Alex folded his arms across his chest and she knew he wasn’t going to make it
easy for her. “You offered me a job and I might have been…” Talia trailed off.

“Yes,” Alex prompted. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that
he was enjoying watching her squirm.

“I was a bit ungracious and I wanted to say if the offer is
still there I’d be happy to be your development person," Talia finished in
a rush, staring at a spot behind Alex’s head, unable to meet his eyes.

“So you want to work for me,” he drawled. “You want to be my
development bitch do you?” Talia gritted her teeth, she would not give him the
satisfaction of losing her temper. “Well…” he said. And suddenly he rose from
the couch and he filled her vision, moving slowly towards her until he stood
directly in front of her. His chest, covered in a tight white shirt, that
wasn’t fully buttoned, blocked out the rest of the room and Talia had to raise
her chin to meet his gaze. “Your duties will include reading scripts, writing
coverage, sourcing books and plays, dealing with producers in LA night or day.”
Talia nodded as she felt herself back on safe ground. “Of course sometimes
you’ll have to make my coffee, draw my bath and maybe even suck my…”

“Go fuck yourself," Talia burst out as Alex began to
laugh. He glanced at his watch.

“That meek act lasted all of 2 minutes,” he laughed. Talia
looked down shamefaced, why did she always let him get to her? “How much do you
want me to pay you?” He asked.

“As your exclusive development person, £700 a week plus
expenses,” she said firmly, though inside she was holding her breath.

“At that rate you’d better be good,” he replied.

“I am. Do we have a deal?” Talia asked as her foreboding was
overtaken by excitement. She was about to get back into the game.

“Deal,” Alex replied. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he
leaned in towards her. “Kiss on it?” Talia immediately stepped back and put her
hand out to shake his. After a moment, he took her hand in his and as he
gripped it, Talia felt something shift between them and she let go quickly as
though she’d been scalded. She watched Alex walk towards a desk in a corner of
the suite and she took a moment to gather her composure, unwilling to question
why a simple handshake should unsettle her so much. Alex was coming back to her
and he dumped a pile of 8 or so scripts in her arms. “That’s for starters,” he
said and then he slumped onto the sofa flicking on the TV, letting Talia know
that she had been dismissed.

Stowing the scripts in her bag. Talia walked awkwardly
towards the door to exit the suite. She could do this, she reminded herself. As
she opened the door, she heard him say something and turned back to look to
where he sat on the sofa staring at the television.

“What?” She asked.

“I lied,” Alex said, his eyes still fixed on the football
game, playing out on the screen in front of him.

“About what?” Talia asked confused.

“Your breasts. I’m not likely to forget them anytime soon.”
And then he turned his full attention back to the TV screen.

For a moment Talia stared open mouthed at him, the breath had
died in her chest and she felt warmth spread all through her. It must be
embarrassment at his crassness she told herself. But as walked down the long
corridor towards the lift, the sound of his quiet laughter chasing around her
head, Talia was filled with a sense that somehow in presenting herself at
Alex’s hotel and begging for the job, she had made an error of judgement and
she was now squarely in the lair of a big bad wolf.
 

Tamara
relaxed in the make up chair as a thick layer of pancake-like foundation was
applied to her face. Her character on the show, Melanie Weaver, wouldn’t know
the word subtle if it stood up and barked at her.

In the last few days, Tamara had been positively friendly, a
fact that had not gone unnoticed by her colleagues and the rest of the crew on
set. There had been whispers about the reason for this uncharacteristic good
mood and they’d all concluded that the reason must be the return of Alex
Golden. Tamara had been photographed with Alex several times, a fact that had
most of the young starlets on the show and all the make up and costume girls
swooning.

“You have such great skin,” the make up girl said as she
liberally slathered on some lurid eyeshadow onto Tamara’s eyelids. Tamara
flashed the girl a dismissive smile. She expected this kind of flattery, had
demanded it even but since the night of Katie and Ian’s party, she had already
mentally left the building. She was already putting Encounters behind her and
had begun to imagine what life would be like as the lover, maybe even wife of a
billionaire. She had Vassily Romanov exactly where she wanted him.