Page 91 of Strut

When I was finally called up, it was over way quicker than usual. The casting director videoed me answering a few of the usual inane questions aimed to check out my personality and how adaptable I was. Like,tell me about your first date, oryou’ve just won a million dollars.Show me your happy dance. It was all designed to see how easy I was to work with and whether I could bring it if I had to—look silly, do whatever was needed.

Since I liked the spotlight, I usually did pretty well, but not apparently today. After I was done the chat bit, the director and photog talked quietly and then put me through no more than a couple of mundane set-up shots, and that was it. They didn’t even look through my book, and I left with a mounting sense of panic and the burning sensation of eyes following me out the door.

Back on the street, I leaned against the wall and fought the rising panic in my chest. Roderick, a model I’d chatted with during fashion week and who was also at the casting, exited not long after me and walked over with a frown on his face.

“What the hell was that, man?” He leaned against the wall and stared at me. “They barely fucking looked at you, and you always get more time than I do.”

I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out and I shut it again.

“Fuck.” He shook his head. “Is this about what happened at that shoot on Sunday with Darcy Fenchurch?”

I turned to meet his gaze. “What do you think?”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, man. That sucks.”

I frowned and tried to read his sincerity. “Have you worked with him?”

Roderick shook his head. “Nah.”

I slumped. “Lucky you. If you ever do, be careful. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

Roderick studied me for a moment. “Thanks for the heads up.” He pushed off the wall and slung his bag over his shoulder. “This fucking business, right? Talk about the highs and lows, love it or hate it.” He eyeballed me and his smile was warm. “Keep your head up. Don’t let the bastards get to you.”

I snorted, grateful for the reminder that there was real camaraderie in this business as well. “Same to you. And thanks for saying something.”

Roderick grinned wide and genuine. “Hey, we’re all in this together, right? What the hell else would I do?”

I watched him leave, then got my shit together and made my way up Midtown. The second casting for a sports editorial went a little more to plan except for the familiar long stares directed my way from everyone concerned. But at least the photog appeared to take my casting seriously and put me through a whole bunch of hoops—a good indication he liked me—and by the time I left, my mood had substantially improved.

As soon as I was outside on the sidewalk, I scrolled through the bazillion text messages I’d received from Hunter in the space of an hour, checking to see how I was doing, when I would be home, what did I fancy eating for dinner, and more than a few simple, I love yous. It widened the smile on my face and for the first time in a few days I felt almost normal. Almost.

Bringing up Google Maps, I realised our model apartment was just a few blocks east. I headed there intending to collect my mail and grab some clothes and my stash of protein bars. But the serious looks that greeted me when I walked inside the front door popped that fragile bubble of warm hope I’d carried since the second casting.

The loud conversation stopped dead in its tracks as four sets of eyes landed on me. Tim, Aaron, Marco, and Peter.Shit.I’d conveniently managed to forget Tim’s mission to talk with Marco about his model friend. And New York being New York, most if not all the models I shared the apartment with would’ve heard something on the grapevine about what went down the day before.

Tim rushed over and wrapped me in a quick hug, then steered me to the L-shaped sofa where the others were lounging, their gazes darting on and off my face, clearly not knowing what to say. Well, join the fucking club.

Tim gestured to the other three. “I figured you’d be okay with these idiots knowing.” He flicked his head to the other men. “I didn’t tell the others, but the word’s out about Sunday, so questions are being asked. I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

My cheeks burned and I quickly scolded myself and switched from being embarrassed to being annoyed for being embarrassed, and then totally pissed because none of it was my fucking fault. Rhys and Tina’s suggestion about talking to someone was starting to make a lot more sense. I barely registered one emotion when another would pop up like a freaking Whac-A-Mole.

Marco leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes full of concern.

“It’s fine,” I reassured Tim, then glanced at the others who seemed equally worried by whatever they saw on my face since I’d given up pretending I was anything but shattered.

Aaron squeezed his hands into fists. “I think I speak for all of us when we say we’d like five minutes alone with that bastard. Jesus, Alec. I mean, what the actual fuck? Most of us have been there at some time, sure, but nothing like what Tim said that fucker did to you.”

“Thanks.” I managed a weak smile. “I’m just... fuck I don’t know what the hell I am.”

The room fell silent for a long minute until finally Marco spoke. “I get that, but...” A brief smile flickered on his lips. “When Tim told us, I made a call to that model friend of mine, the one who ran into the asshole in Rome, and Conrad said, hell yeah, if you start something, he’s more than happy to join. Darcy did a number on him as well, it seems. Accused him of stalking, which pretty much tanked Conrad’s career.”

My mouth dropped open and a flicker of hope warmed my chest. I fucking knew I wasn’t the first. “I take it that’s not what happened?”

“Fuck no.” Marco shook his head in disgust. “Although I didn’t know the whole story until I called. It started following a casting call for a Valentino fragrance campaign Darcy was shooting. Conrad said after that, Darcy kept turning up wherever Conrad was—clubs, restaurants, bars. Then Conrad got a callback for a second shoot, just like you. It was a late shoot and just him and Darcy, but at the time Conrad didn’t think twice, or rather, he said he didn’t want to think about it being weird. A chance at a job for Valentino with an ace photog? Hell, who the fuck in their right mind turns that down, right?”

I felt sick to my stomach.

Marco’s tone softened. “None of us would’ve turned down that chance with Berlini.” He paused and the others nodded in agreement. “Jesus, Alec. I’d have crawled over broken glass for that. What happened to you is all on that asshole. None of it was down to you. None of it.”

---