“Charlotte!” Hanson says with a joviality that feels like a punch to my gut, gesturing her forward. “Come here for a second. You can help me out here.”
Is he going to have her fire me? How much more humiliating can this get?
Even though the beautiful woman claimed she was being scouted for other agencies, she’s still here. It’s been two weeks since we had that discussion in the bathroom—I know because that’s the day I met my rockstar. But Charlotte hasn’t mentioned her potential move since.
Maybe she likes being the big fish in a small pond. I’d like to be a fish in any pond at this point.
“Look at Charlotte,” Hanson says, not even disguising the worshipping tone of his voice as he takes her hand and gives her a slow twirl, reminding me of those diamond ads where the perfectly cut gem spins slowly on a rhinestone-studded plate. “Isn’t she dazzling?”
Charlotte preens, soaking up the praise and attention like a desperate sponge. It’s apparent that I was right in my assumption that she likes the security of this agency, where she is the top earner and Hanson would do anything to keep her. She doesn’t have the stones to take a leap of faith to see if she could make it in a more competitive agency.
Little does she know Hanson will tire of her eventually. He always does. She’s not the first sparkly thing to catch his eye. I would have tried to warn her but she’s gazing at me now as if she wants nothing more than for me to walk out that door and never return.
“Morgan here needs your help, Charlotte,” Hanson continues. “Can you tell her what you do to keep your figure so flawless?”
Charlotte appraises me as though I’m a horse up for sale. I keep my chin high despite their scrutinizing stares. Charlotte bats her lashes at Hanson. “Oh, the usual. Yoga and running.”
Hanson’s eyes turn toward me. “And you?”
“The same.”
He turns his attention back to Charlotte. “You must have a secret, darling. I mean look at you, you’re perfection.”
“I wish I had a secret to share, but my figure is mostly natural,” she explains with another haughty look at me.
Where did all that kindness from before go? Was she only being nice because she was entertaining the thought of leaving the agency? Now that she was staying, perhaps she wants me to be the one to go. It would mean less competition for her—not that I’m considered competition these days.
“Of course,” Hanson sighs. “But Morgan just doesn’t have that luxury.”
Charlotte nods. “I’ve actually been trying this raw food diet recently. Only unprocessed, uncooked vegetables. I could get you a recipe book, Morgan.”
“I don’t need to diet!” I snap back, my tongue escaping its leash after trying to keep quiet.
Charlotte purses her lips, her arms folding over her chest. “Maybe it isn’t just your weight that’s costing you jobs. Maybe it’s your attitude.”
Anger floods me with heat. “Excuse me?”
“I tried to be nice to you, Morgan, but I think the nicest thing I can do is give you a harsh reality check, sweetie.”
“And what’s that?”
“Not everyone’s cut out for modeling. Right, Hanson?”
My jaw drops slightly, my eyes turning to meet Hanson’s.
“Well, that might be true,” he stammers, “but I think if Morgan has the grit to keep fighting, we should let her.”
He smiles at me as though he’s being helpful, but his words lodge like a knife in my ribs. Even though I want to go off on him for insinuating that I’m anything less than good at my job, I simply turn on my heels and march out of the room.
A second later I hear Charlotte following. She corners me in the bathroom while I splash water on my face, hoping to cool my flaring temper. No matter what I want to say or do, I need this job more than I need the last word. It’s my dream.
“I’m sorry I was blunt with you,” Charlotte says quietly from behind me, though her eyes in the mirror are decisively unapologetic.
I note she isn’t apologizing for her words, but for her tone. It’s almost commendable.
“It’s okay,” I answer rigidly, forcing the words out from between my teeth.
“It’s just that not everyone has what it takes to work in this field. You have to recognize your limitations. I would want someone to tell me if I wasn’t cut out for this.”
Slowly I straighten, my face still damp. “So, you really don’t think I can model?”
She lifts her chin, green eyes blazing into mine. I can’t believe I’d thought she was kind earlier. Charlotte might be beautiful on the outside, but she’s nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing . . . and in my opinion, that’s the ugliest thing someone can be.
“When was the last time you booked a meaningful job, Morgan? How much longer are you going to drag this out, starving yourself while you get edged out by the younger girls every day? I mean, you can’t even keep a car show. I feel sorry for you is all.” Charlotte offers a phony smile and pats my shoulder. “It’s not too late to find something else you're good at.”
Before I can grab her by the beautiful red locks, she’s gone and I’m left staring after her in humiliated shock.
Who does she think she is to speak to me that way?
My phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket, and through my stunned haze, I lift it and answer as Chloe’s cheerful voice meets my ears.
“Hey, Morgan!” Chloe says. “I finally found some guys for you and Stacy. We’ve got someone from Donovan’s advertising firm for Stacy and one of Donovan’s friends is a musician so I figured that would scratch your itch for your guitar playing one-night stand. Sound good?”
“Never sounded better,” I whisper through gnashed teeth, eager to eat some real food for a change and wash it down with a stiff drink so I can forget this happened.
Even though I’m still not particularly interested in this date, I need to get out and let loose or I’m going to explode. Besides, after this craziness with Hanson, I need something to look forward to, even if it’s an awkward blind date. I know I’ll be thinking about another musician the entire time, but maybe my friends are right. Maybe the best way to get over him is to get under someone else . . .
The thought is unhealthy and it makes my heart ache but it’s all I’ve got at the moment, so I cling to it with all the hope I have left.
Chapter 13
Eric
‘Dinner tonight at 7. Don’t be late. La Folie. Wear a suit.’
I stare down at the text from Donovan, jaw clenching and unclenching irritably.
Seriously? Did Donovan have to pick the most uptight French joint in Manhattan?
He knows how much I hate those stuck-up places. The last time he tried to drag me to one I ended up spending all night at the bar trying to convince the bartender that forty bucks for a shot was madness and if she was going to charge me that much, I should get a little side action along with it. I ended up getting myself and Donovan’s whole group of yuppie friends kicked out.
That’s the last thing I want to deal with tonight. But I can’t help myself at places like that. I’m not made of money and even if I was, I wouldn’t blow it on drinks with pretentious prices just because they happen to be hip. Not to mention the idea of suiting up and pretending to be interested in one of Chloe’s friends is about as appealing as a root canal.