Page 8 of Her Supermodel Stalker
Holy shit. I haven’t been so horny for years. I get off once in a while when I’m in bed and gazing at my supermodel, but not when I’m in a shower.
As a habit, I spend time on social media before bedtime, which pretty much means checking the posts of people I follow on FB and Twitter. Devin, or his manager, hasn’t been posting lately. In fact, not a word is mentioned about him moving to a vineyard. Is he keeping it a secret?
I scroll through his older posts. I’m his loyal fan, never missing any news from him and always leave likes. A fan has compiled a new tribute to him, including his runway shows in the past ten years. I never tire of watching him walking confidently in any attire: be it a dress suit, sportswear, a pajama, or a pair of boxers. He isn’t just a human clothes hanger like many models are. He’s a man who knows how to wear his clothes. And this man is now my boss and has just kissed me!
Although still flustered, I’m confused and worried. I have a feeling the materialization of Devin Gamble is going to turn my life upside down. I couldn’t concentrate on work in the afternoon, after the tour I gave him. Why did he kiss me? Why did he look as if he wanted me as badly as I wanted him? I’m just an ordinary girl working in a little-known vineyard, while he is a celebrity. It makes little sense to me. Unless, true to his reputation, he’s a rake.
Turning off my phone, I stare at my ceiling, or the image of the supermodel and my new boss. I need to quit fantasizing about him in order to keep a distance between us. I cannot get involved with him. He is my boss besides being a celebrity. He can’t take me seriously. No way. I’ll just be his plaything. Devin Gamble is famous for his inability to commit. He’s had uncountable women in the past decade. Well, maybe he’s having a hiatus in the past two years, which is a mystery. Rumor says he’s tired of women and moved onto men… which doesn’t seem to be creditable, given the incident in the cellar.
I dwell on the thought a moment longer but only get more confused. I conclude that I need to take his posters off as soon as I get a chance and put my obsession for him to an end if I want to keep my job.
Chapter 6
Devin
I’m playing Für Elise on my grand piano, which has been delivered to my new house just an hour ago. I close my eyes, letting my fingers dance on the keyboard, and my mind drifts out of my living room, to the garden, to the vineyard. Lexi appears in my vision, wearing a green dress that I’ve seen her wear in her photos and smiling at me. I imagine her standing next to the piano and watching me play. I would like to compose a song for her, too, and name it For Lexi.
I was a music major when I started my modeling career. I was giving a piano recital at a charity event when a scouting agent spotted me. He then got me started with a campaign for Abercrombie & Fitch. Since then, I have worked for various fashion brands to earn a bit of pocket money. When I graduated from college, I had no desire to continue to model. I liked modeling; it was fun and exciting, but my passion was music. I had dreams of becoming a concert pianist and also a composer one day. I didn’t have any luck in the music industry. I played for a small jazz ensemble for a few years without getting anywhere. In the meantime, I kept getting modeling contracts. So finally, I gave up my dream of a concert pianist and fully committed to modeling.
That’s life. You don’t get everything you want. I’ve come to terms with my unrealized ambitions, but I still keep playing the piano. It’s what gets me through tough times and keeps my sanity in the highly competitive industry.
Although I had a good start with modeling, for years, I was barely making enough to pay rent. By the time I got to the top, I had to face new challenges. Jealousy, public opinions, slanders, defamation… these things could easily break a strong man, especially a man without the support of a family. My stepdad thinks models are just coat hangers, and my mom is embarrassed with my photos online. I don’t blame her. I often cringe when I glimpse pictures of me in underwear. Even the ones with me fully clothed, wearing expensive suits and watches, looking confident like a successful man, disgust me because it isn’t who I am. I am just a lonely man who’s lost his direction while chasing fame and wealth.
My phone rings. I recognize the ringtone of my publicist, Amanda Barker, but I ignore it. When it keeps ringing, I sigh and stop playing.
“Where the hell are you, Devin? You’re keeping your secret tight. I’m your publicist!” Amanda barks on the other end of the line.
“It’s why I have to keep it from you. I don’t want every aspect of my private life known to the public.”
“Okay, I get it. But at least let me know when you’re coming back to NY?”
“I don’t have the plan yet. Not for another month.”
“You must be kidding. Are you missing out on Fashion Week? Do you realize how big a loss it’ll be?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Unbelievable. Something’s happened to you. Is it a woman?” she asks. “Or a man?”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, I won’t ask. But Let me warn you. Nothing you do is a secret anymore. You’re a celebrity. People will find you no matter where you go unless you quarantine yourself and never go out to the public. And believe me, it’s better to let me disclose your whereabouts than letting the paparazzi do. You know how vile they can be.”
She has a point, but I’m still not ready to tell her everything. “I’m in California.”
“No way! You got your vineyard?”
“How the hell did you know I was getting one?”
I can see her eye roll. “Come on, baby, I’m your publicist, your manager, and your closest friend! There are very few things I don’t know about you.”
I grimace. I try not to be too close to her precisely because she knows too much about me. “I’ll let you know where to find me soon, but not now.”
“Okay, Devin. Contact me before things get out of hand, okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The last time you disappeared, you ended up making an international scandal, and I had to clean up your mess.”
