Part 68

Staring out the window into the inky blackness of the night as the plane Mom and I are on tries to outrun the coming dawn, I think back over the past few weeks and how much my life has changed.

My introduction to Fashion Week and to Milan in particular was an unqualified success. I don’t think things could have gone any better if I had had a magic wand and wished all this.

Fashion TV ranked me number one as Milan’s First Face and for the entire season I placed seventh. Not bad for only hitting half the season and even then doing only one show in Paris. Then Models.com listed me as the number one new face to watch. It all seems like a dream and I don’t dare pinch myself for fear I’ll wake from it.

After signing the contract with Next it was Bobby who started dropping the good news bombs. First and foremost was about Karl Lagerfeld. Apparently I had impressed Karl during the Fendi show and he had his assistant contact Next and specifically requested me as an exclusive for the Chanel show in Paris. This shocked everyone and more so when we found out that I was to open the show and that they also wanted me to be part of their print campaign.

So instead of hitting the castings for the Paris shows I spent most of my time with the Chanel team and in particular with Karl Lagerfeld. This was a time that I’ll not soon forget.

The man is amazing and I swear that there must be four or five clones of him running around and I told him that too. He never seems to sleep, he designs multiple lines: his, Fendi’s, Chanel’s; he publishes books, does still photography and directs film and he even does DJ work. I just can’t believe that any one person can do all of that but somehow he does.

During a break we all were taking I asked him why he picked me. He told me that he liked my unique look but more importantly he liked my attitude and how I interacted with him from the start.

I explained that in reality I was scared to death but decided to just go for it and hope for the best. He smiled and said that was just the right thing to do.

My time in Paris was crazy and unfortunately I never got enough time to see much of the city. Now we’re jetting to New York where I’ll spend about a week before finally going home. I’ve got some go-sees to do with the hope of getting some editorial work while my face and name are still up there from fashion week.

The biggest surprise though wasn’t fashion-related, it was family-related. I giggle quietly to myself at the memory which was also the biggest surprise for Mom. After signing with Next and making the decision to go to Paris, I emailed everyone: Dad, sis, Aunt Dee, Robbyn and Blair. Congratulations came from everyone almost immediately, except from Aunt Dee–hers was delayed.

I was resting in our hotel room, waiting for room service. Mom had gone out for a bit but I didn’t want to as it was cold and rainy and I was tired.

There came a knock at the door and opening it, expecting to find my dinner being delivered, I instead found myself staring at my face–an older version of my face–but one that was me except for the eyes: those were a vibrant green.

I’m afraid I was too stunned to move or say anything and eventually this beautiful almost musical voice asks, “Well aren’t you going to say hello to your aunt?”

Once I got my wits back, which admittedly took a few more moments, I did say hello all the while squeezing her in a bear hug. Aunt Dee finally warned me that I was getting close to cracking her ribs and I embarrassingly let her go and pulled her into the room.

My dinner came shortly after her arrival and since the portions were huge I was able to convince her to share. So we chatted and got to know each other and it was like I had known her all my life, I was that comfortable with her.

As we talked, I realized that although we do look very much alike, there are some noticeable differences, besides the eyes that is. First, I’m taller by almost a half a foot. She’s heavier with a larger bust but still in fantastic shape. Her face is older, as you’d expect and you can tell that life has thrown her some curves but she’s dealt with them. So instead of twins or aunt and niece, we look more like mother and daughter.

As we talked I could tell she was nervous and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. She was scared to death about meeting Mom after all these years.

She needn’t have worried though. When Mom finally showed up I was a bit concerned when she first saw who our company was–thank goodness she has a strong heart.

After I spent the next half-hour explaining how I snuck Aunt Dee’s contact information out of Dad’s address book and started corresponding with her, I took myself off to bed, leaving them to get reacquainted. In the morning they were still up, the ruins of a box of tissues beside them but they were laughing and joking and both looked the better for being back together.

That was three days ago with Mom and Aunt Dee spending all their time together getting caught back up. Then, after a good round of tearful goodbyes and with plans for Aunt Dee to come out and visit, we parted last night: Mom and I for New York then home and Aunt Dee for London then home to Ireland.

Sighing to myself, I shift my position, trying to get a bit more comfortable. Looking outside I unsuccessfully try to make out the waters of the Atlantic below us. Soon the steady thrum of the engines lulls me to sleep.

* * *

The announcement that we’ll soon be landing and the cabin lights coming up wake me from a dream where I was getting lost on a runway. Given some of the layouts some of the shows do, this isn’t as farfetched a worry as you’d initially think.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I give Mom a smile as she gives my leg a comforting squeeze.

“Get some rest, honey?”

“I don’t know about rest, but I did sleep. It’ll be nice when we finally get back home and I can sleep in my own bed and for a full eight hours too.”

“If things go well here, maybe we can get home a day or two early.”

“Maybe, Bobby was being a bit cagey on what the go-sees are for. I’ve noticed that he’s like that when things aren’t firmed up as much as he likes and if they aren’t firmed up then there might be delays. I’m sure there aren’t any but you never know.”

“What time is your appointment at Next?”

“Nine. I was thinking that if you wanted, I can go down to Next and you can check into the hotel. That way you can get settled and I can join you there after I meet with Bobby.”

“We can’t check in until eleven anyway so we’ll go down together. Besides, I don’t want you going clear across town on your own just yet.”

I give Mom an eye roll and she chuckles. I know it’s an argument I can’t win but it tells her that I think she’s being silly and that I’m an adult now…well almost at least.

We actually land a little early but that apparently creates a problem of where to put us. The word from the pilot is that there isn’t a gate available so we sit and wait, the terminal tantalizingly close but still out of reach.

Eventually we get a gate and a small cheer goes up at the news. I don’t blame people for cheering, we’ve been on this plane for over nine hours and I think everyone is eager to get off, I know I am.

JFK airport is a madhouse and I think we timed our arrival right at break time for the staff. There’s a big delay for claiming our bags, then when we finally get them and make our way to customs there are only a couple of stations open and the line for them is huge and not moving very fast at all.

“One of the busiest airports in the world and they have, what two, three lanes open while the line is a mile plus long. Who runs this place, a committee of monkeys?”

Mom chuckles at my frustration and pats my back. “Be patient, honey and don’t stress the little stuff. You’ll wear yourself out before you’re twenty if you do.”

“You’re probably right but it’s going to take,” and I look down at my phone again, “at least thirty minutes to get to the Next offices from here and that’s assuming no traffic and since when is there no traffic in New York? And before that we have to get through this line, assuming we ever do that is.”

“If it looks like we’re going to be late, then we’ll just call and let them know, now relax.”

We just finish up with customs and given that it’s peak morning rush I give Bobby a call to let him know we’ll probably be late, at which point he tells me some surprising news.

Mom sees my expression and immediately asks what’s happening as soon as I hang up with Bobby.

“So? Your grin is about ready to split your face in half, what’s up?”

“We can go to the hotel first after all. Even if our room isn’t ready, we can drop our bags there ’cause I have a ten o’clock meeting only two blocks away from there with Teen Vogue.”

“What? That’s great, honey.”

“This is so amazing: they want to interview me, well me and a couple of other new models. They talked with Next about who’s new this year and Next really put my name out there. They’ll also be interviewing some girls from some other agencies but I’ll be in Teen Vogue!”

As we’re heading to get a taxi I suddenly stop as I realize something.

“Oh no.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Mom, I can’t meet with Teen Vogue looking like this. I look like hell; they won’t want to see me like this, heck they probably won’t even let me into their offices looking this bad.”

I’m wearing yoga pants, tank top and light workout jacket and my sneakers–comfortable for travel but not what to wear when meeting with Teen Vogue.

“That’s easily solved.” Mom nods her head towards the ladies’ room.

“Oh man, public restrooms are so gross.”

“Well if traffic is bad, you might not have time when we get to the hotel and we might not be able to get our room early, so go in there and change, we’ll put your hair in a braid and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’re right but for the record, eww.”

We go over to the side and I rummage in my suitcase for something clean, not too wrinkled and appropriate for this interview. There’s not really a whole lot to choose from ’cause I really need to get some laundry done, but I finally settle for the short pleated leather skirt Mom got me, tights, a basic white top and the ankle boots from Marani.

“Okay, hold down the fort, I’ll be right back. Wish me luck.”

Mom laughs and says, “You’re going to the restroom, honey, you’re not a test pilot going up.”

I suppose as public restrooms go, this one was better than most but that did little to make me feel better about being in one. Although necessary, I’ve always thought public restrooms are nasty.

I change as quickly as I can in the tiny cramped stall, trying my best to touch as little as possible then go back out to Mom.

“I see you survived.”

“Ha, ha, how do I look?”

“Just fine, I’ll braid your hair in the car. Let’s go.”

It was a good thing I changed because traffic is bumper to bumper going into the city. By time we get in it’s almost nine forty-five.

“Mom, since the hotel is only two blocks away from the Vogue offices, why don’t you drop me off then go to the hotel? I’ll walk on over after I’m done. If I’m going to be late, I’ll give you a call or text. You’ll at least be more comfortable.”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Mom, really I’ll be fine. I’ll call before I leave.”

Mom looks reluctant to agree but she finally does. “Okay but call before you leave. I’ll tell you what room we’re in.”

“Fine, and if I’m going to be past lunchtime, I’ll either call or send a quick text.”

I give Mom a quick peck on the cheek when we pull up to the building and hop on out. I’m glad I put the tights on as it’s kinda chilly. Looking up I send a silent prayer to the weather gods that it not rain either.

I make my way up to the Teen Vogue offices and after introducing myself to the receptionist, I take a seat and start thumbing through the latest issue of the magazine.

Shortly I notice a tall, young, very pretty blonde heading over to me and using my great powers of deduction I immediately label her as another model. Imagine my surprise when she introduces herself as Jane Keltner de Valle, the Senior Fashion News Director for Teen Vogue. I swear she can’t be that much older than Ellen. Mister Sherlock Holmes, your position as the world’s greatest sleuth is safe, from me at least.

We go back to her office and the actual interview doesn’t take very long, however there’s going to be a photo spread accompanying the article and they want to get that done today.

They initially wanted to do the shoot with all the models together but the timing didn’t work out. The article covers me, Daphne Groeneveld who is with Women and Hailey Clauson who’s with Marilyn. I’ve met and worked with these two in Milan and they’re both great fun. I actually didn’t realize they were new too: they both seem like they’ve been do this for a while.

Their photo shoot was done a few days ago over at Battery Park but with the potential for the weather turning crappy we’re going to go a couple blocks away to Bryant Park and shoot before things get bad and we don’t have any light.

I send Mom a quick text explaining this and after getting a bit of makeup done and being introduced to John Ellis, the photographer, we all head outside.

John has me walk by myself on the other side of the street and continues to shoot me all the way to the park. Once there, we have some lighting people to help out. All the shots are me being casual and playful in front of the camera.

John’s easy to work with and we quickly get some good shots to use before we completely lose the light and it starts to drizzle. By this time I’m nearly freezing my little tokus off and am glad we’re heading back.

After gathering up my stuff and saying goodbye, I give Mom a call to let her know that I’m on my way.

I step out the door into an even heavier drizzle. By time I reach the hotel I’m chilled to the bone despite my jacket. It’s a difficult choice now between wanting to get warm and needing some food.

Once in the lobby of the hotel, I pause to look around and get my bearings. I hear my name being called and turning I see Mom and Bobby crossing over to me.

“Hey, Bobby, I didn’t think we were meeting until later.”

“We were but I wanted to find out how things went at Teen Vogue and thought I’d buy you and your mother lunch. So where would you two like to eat?”

“Anywhere close. I’m cold and really hungry.”

“How about here then?” suggests Mom.

We all agree and go into the hotel’s lounge.

After ordering soup, salad and a sandwich for me, Bobby insists I fill him in on how things went at Teen Vogue.

After I tell him everything and while I’m starting on my salad, Bobby says, “It sounds like it went very well. I should hear from Jane this afternoon and I’ll let you know. I can say that the interview will be coming out in the January issue. This is great news as it puts your name and face out there right before the fall fashion weeks start.”

“This is so great,” I say. “I keep pinching myself.”

“Don’t do that,” replies Bobby with a smile, “you’ll get bruises. And I have even better news too.”

He pauses and takes a bite out of his sandwich.

“Well?” I ask.

Bobby holds up a finger as if to say wait one.

After slowly taking a drink of his iced tea, all the while smiling at my impatience, he says, “You’re getting your first cover.”

“What!? Who with? When? I haven’t even met with anyone, how can I get a cover?”

“Numéro requested permission to use you on one of their covers. I’m not entirely sure which way it went–either they asked Karl Lagerfeld to do a cover and he wanted to use your picture or he went to them requesting you be on a cover. Either way Karl wants to use one of the shots he took of you in Paris for the February issue. Again, this is going to be out right in the middle of fashion week and couldn’t be better for you.”

This news warms me up even better than the soup I’m having.

“Now then, your mother and I have been going over how best to work your schedule and we want to run it by you. First, I had hoped to get you in front of some photographers this week before you went back home. Unfortunately we couldn’t get schedules set up in time so it looks like you’ll be able to get home early. That does mean that I’ll want you back just as soon as you have time to rest up and get caught up back home.”

“I really can’t wait to get back home but I don’t think I’ll need much more than a week or two to rest and catch up on school and all.” Looking over at Mom she nods her head in agreement.

“That brings up your schedule going forward. I’m going to be staying here in New York to handle things and Lisa will be working the markets on the West Coast. We don’t want to burn you out so we’ll constantly be evaluating your schedule with you and your parents, but initially we’re going to be taking away your weekends.

“You need your weekdays for school, home and your social life. What that means is we’ll be cramming as much into the weekends as we can. We’re going to get as much work for you as possible in LA and on the West Coast to help with the commute but there will be weekend flights out here for castings and other jobs. What do you think?”

“Well, quite frankly it worries me.”

“How so?”

I look over at Mom and she gives me a smile of encouragement.

“These past few weeks have been so great. I’ve had so much fun and I’ve learned so much. But I didn’t even do a whole season and we’ve already been gone three weeks. It really isn’t fair to Mom. Now I don’t mind losing out on my weekends, like I said I’m having fun and learning a bunch, but it isn’t fair to make Mom lose out on hers too, there’s more to our family than just me.”

“Honey,” says Mom, “I told you we’d work it out. Part of what Bobby and I have been discussing was just that. Now for the fashion weeks you’ll be gone too long for you to be on your own. We’ll arrange something. I’ve really enjoyed myself on this trip and I bet your sister would love to do one too. After talking with Bobby, I think you can do the weekend trips on your own.”

At the look of surprised shock on my face Mom gives a chuckle. “It won’t be every weekend you’ll need to go somewhere and you won’t really be by yourself. Your father goes down to LA frequently for his work so anytime you work there he can be nearby and of course Lisa will be there.”

“And,” adds Bobby, “for the times you come east, I’ll be with you. So you see, you really won’t be by yourself.”

Mom says, “Honey, I’m very proud of how well you’ve handled these last few weeks. You’ve shown that you’re mature enough to take on the responsibility without us having to worry about what you’ll do. Our big concern is making sure you have the support you need around you. I think this is a good solution.”

“Um, this morning you didn’t want me going across town by myself, heck you were worried about me going two blocks.”

Mom sighs, “I know, honey. I’ll always worry, that’s my job, but as much as I may fight it, you’re not a little kid anymore; you’re turning into an adult, a quite remarkable one at that too. If I’m honest I think you can handle the responsibility, do you?”

“Last month I think I would have said no, but I do think I can do it, I really do. It’s not like I’ll be completely by myself; I’ll either have Bobby or Lisa in town with me and I can always call you or Dad.”

Mom gives me a smile and Bobby says, “Great, that’s how we’ll handle it then. Now since I couldn’t get those appointments for you I won’t try to get anything more this trip so you and your mother can get back home and you can start resting up.”

* * *

“Alex,” says Mom, “we’re almost home, honey.”

“Hmm? Wasn’t sleeping,” I say sleepily, “not sure if I’m really awake but I wasn’t really asleep either.”

“We’ll go straight to bed when we get in, and deal with the luggage when we get up. Most of it will need to get washed anyway.”

Yawning I reply, “Sounds good to me. What time is it anyway, here I mean?”

“Almost two-thirty in the morning. We’ve been up for the last day and a half.”

“No wonder I feel like a zombie.”

“You and me both, honey.”

I sit up straighter and try to summon enough energy to last me until I can collapse in bed.

As we finally pull into our driveway I fully open my eyes and once we stop I stumble out and to the back of the car to get my bags.

After getting paid, the driver unloads our luggage and I start dragging mine to the front door. Note to self: learn to pack lighter from now on.

I stand to one side, dozing on my feet while Mom comes up with her bags and fumbles for her keys.

Once inside, Mom goes to turn off the alarm system and I drag the bags in and stack them in the hall.

“Just leave them there, honey; we’ll get them in the morning.”

Closing and locking the door I say “All right, Mom.”

Like a couple of drunks, we help each other up the stairs. Once at the top I give Mom a quick hug and a peck then continue on down the hall as she goes in and closes the door to her and Dad’s room.

With one hand on the wall to guide me and keep me from falling, I go to my room and head for the closet. Not even bothering with the light, I strip off my clothes, put on a clean pair of underwear and an old oversized football jersey I use for a night shirt.

Just as I pull the shirt over my head I hear something from behind me. Turning as I settle the shirt I hear it again, the sound of someone in my bed!

With no small amount of trepidation I crouch and tip-toe towards the bed and when I get close enough the moonlight reveals a rather large body sprawled across the sheets with my pillow partially obscuring the face.

Realizing that whoever it is, is asleep and it isn’t some bloodthirsty monster, my nerves start to calm down and I go closer for a better look.

As soon as I get next to the bed he shifts and I see his face in the pale moonlight. Brandon!

What the hell is he doing here and in my bed?

I’m about to shake him to ask him just that but stop. Two things stay my hand, first if I wake him who knows when I’ll finally get to sleep and the other reason is…he’s obviously not wearing anything or at least much of anything and that could cause even more troubles.

Crap.

I turn to leave and go to the guest room then stop and look back at Brandon. Hmm, I wonder. I turn back and look at Brandon, wondering if he really is fully naked.

The thought startles me and telling myself that peeking would cause oh so many more problems and realizing that I’m just too damn tired anyway, I head out of my room and across the hall.

The door to the guest room is closed and as I go to open it my brain processes a bit more information and I ask myself, just why is Brandon in my bed when we have a perfectly good one in the guest room? Fearing the answer, I slowly open the door and peek in.

Oh fairy farts, I don’t know who it is, but someone is in this bed too. Closing the door and cursing under my breath, I stumble to the hall closet, pull out a pillow, a blanket and a sheet and dragging myself back down the hall, I head downstairs.

Let’s see, the couch in the basement is usually covered with Ellen’s stuff, the recliners and the love seat in the game room would put me in traction if I slept on them. That leaves the living room and the large sectional…perfect.

I successfully get back down the stairs without falling down them and breaking my neck but end up stubbing my foot on our bags in the hallway.

Cursing and limping, I go into the living room, spread out the sheet and blanket on the couch, and as I’m dragging the covers over me I finally pass out.