A Model Romance (True Love Book 3) (2 page)

“I love you, Harrison, you know that. I want you to be happy,” I say as I feel a tear roll down my cheek. The emotion is real; I’ll miss him. He embraces me tightly, and I feel him exhale. We sit like this for a long while. This day officially sucks.

In the next few days, we cordially discuss my moving out and the separating of goods. I sold my last place with all the furniture in it since he had everything already. I need to start from scratch. Find a place to live, and get on with my life.

Chapter 2

I find a great loft in the Village. It’s just what I need at this stage of the game: Young, trendy and full of life. Now if I could just get my mood and attitude to match my neighborhood. Harrison and I have remained friends, which in the grand scheme of things, is remarkable. His girl, Cara, left our agency to work someplace else. I respect them both for trying to spare my feelings. I guess it’s what I have to do.

Ever since I returned to New York from Chicago I haven’t been the same. The the upheaval in ending a relationship helps to distract me, but I feel depressed. At my age, I’m near the pinnacle of my modeling career and on the downward slope. Sure, there are models out there that keep going through their thirties and forties, but they’re a rare breed. The rest of us begin to notice the phone doesn’t ring as often with job offers, until one day it stops altogether. I’ve been one of the lucky ones, I know. Being a natural redhead set me apart from the pack, especially at the beginning of my career. There’s a great deal more diversity in the modeling industry today, but the blondes and brunettes still make up the majority.

I have a meeting today with Embrace, a large cosmetics company that I’ve been the face of for the last three years. My contract is about to expire, and we have to renegotiate the particulars of a new one. It’s been steady work, and they’ve paid me handsomely. I’d love to squeeze another five years out of them, and be finished for good. I have plenty of money to stop now, but this is my career. I want it to last as long as possible. Thinking back on our last contract meeting, I remember Cara. She was sitting with our attorneys taking notes. I feel a little pang of jealousy.

I don’t sleep well, so I decide to get up and get my workout done to burn off excess energy. I take my time getting ready, too. My makeup is flawless, and my hair is down with long, loose curls. I’m wearing one of my favorite outfits, a custom-fitted Chanel suit in a deep purple. My five-inch gold Louboutin heels put me around six-four. I love feeling the power that comes from standing tall. Contract negotiations are dull, to say the least, but I want to remind them what they’re getting.

I arrive at our downtown offices early. When I enter the lobby, I see my agent speaking with the receptionist.

“There she is, good timing,” Deb, my agent, says with a smile. “Let’s go in this conference room, Rebecca, we’ll have some privacy.”

Strange.

“OK. Am I late? I thought I was early,” I say as I follow her into the smaller room down the hall. She doesn’t speak; she keeps walking ahead. There’s no one in there, so she must want to go over some details first.

“Becca, I can’t sugarcoat this, so I just have to tell you upfront. Embrace is passing on your contract renewal. They contacted me yesterday, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I did everything I could, but they’ve made up their minds. I’m terribly sorry.”

My mind takes this opportunity to unleash all the pent-up rage I’ve felt for the past few months onto my poor agent. Knowing, and not caring, that everyone in the place can hear me, I begin to shout.

“What the
fuck
, Deb! You have one fucking job, and that’s to keep me employed! This was supposed to be an easy renewal, sign the papers and get on with my day. Now you’re telling me that my biggest contract is
gone
?” Each word that comes out of my mouth gets louder and louder, until I feel the veins pulsating in my forehead. I see a small group gathering outside the frosted-glass walls of the room. I take a deep breath, and begin again in a lower tone.

“OK, Deb, I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault, but something had to happen. What did they say?”

She looks down at the table, and inspects an invisible speck of dust.

“They wanted someone younger,” she doesn’t look up. She knows this is a model’s greatest nightmare. In this business, news travels at the speed of light; every other company will know that I’ve been pegged as “too old.” I could start appealing to the face-cream bunch, but even they hire twenty-year-olds who pretend to have wrinkles. I knew this day would come; I had no idea it would be this soon. I’ve picked up on some subtle, and not so subtle, clues, though. A photographer at a recent shoot complained that he needed a softer filter for my layout. He muttered under his breath in French that I should try some Botox. I told him, in French, as clearly as I could to go fuck himself. That news spread fast, and labeled me “difficult to work with” even after all the years of stellar behavior.

I storm out the room, and the sea of onlookers parts for me to pass. I walk with lack of direction; I allow my feet to make the decisions. I keep my head held high and even though I feel like crying, I don’t dare. I walk out onto the busy street, and keep walking until I can’t go any farther. My feet are screaming in these shoes; It’s time to catch a cab and go home. The leaves are beginning to turn, and the air feels lighter. Fall is around the corner. Thank God, because the summer I’ve had I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

* * *

My sister, Melanie, is due to have her baby sometime late September. That’s only a couple of weeks away. I think I’ll go out for an extended visit, and offer to help her and Brian. I desperately need to get out of the city for a while. Ever since I returned to New York after their wedding, my life has turned upside down. Maybe a repeat trip will flip it around.

Melanie couldn’t be more excited that I’m coming. She and I were close growing up, but with my lifestyle and her asshole first husband, we haven’t gotten to see each other very often. I’m thankful that her friend, Katie, helped her see what a jerk her first husband was. Her new husband, Brian, plays for the Chicago Bears and he’s adorable. He reminds me of a big teddy bear. He adores her and her boys, and is so excited for their new baby to arrive. I love being around the two of them, they give me hope for the future. If she can find that kind of love after everything she’s been through with men, there’s a chance for me yet.

Even though her house is huge, I insist on staying at a hotel. I don’t want to get in the way, especially now when so much is going on. I can always stay at her house if she needs me, but it’s better for everyone if I have my own space. They are still newlyweds, after all. Brian’s been away at training camp, and he’s done well in preseason games so far. He’s had limited playing time, testing out his injured Achilles, but so far he says it feels great. I make my plans to go out in the middle of next week. Since I’m staying an indefinite time, I need to get things in order here before I go.

I rent a car at the airport, and type their address into the GPS. Glencoe is one the quaintest towns I’ve ever seen. The homes are beautiful, and the little village downtown looks like something from a movie set - far from the madness that is New York. Melanie is waiting on the front porch when I arrive. She looks cute and impossibly large. She waddles down the front steps to greet me.

“I’m so happy you’re here! Poor Brian, I’ve been wearing him out talking about it. I think he’s thankful to be on the road this week. Here, let me help,” she says as she rocks her swollen body from side to side trying to pick up one of my suitcases. I agreed to stay with her through the weekend while Brian is away.

“Are you insane? Not only can I carry all of these and you at the same time, if you go into early labor picking up my bags, Brian will never speak to me again!” I laugh as I gently push her hands away from my bags.

“Oh, I’m not helpless. Everyone keeps treating me like I’ll break, but I’ve been through this three times before. I can carry a damn suitcase!” She huffs. I relent and give her my small carry-on vanity case. She’s as stubborn as they come, and I know better than to argue, and she knows better than to push me too hard, too. I can keep up with her.

We drop everything in her front foyer and hug. It’s not the easiest thing to do since she’s six inches shorter than me, and twice as round. This feels good. I’ve missed her so much over the years; it feels natural to reconnect this way. My nephews come screaming down the stairs and hug both of us.

“Aunt Becca! You’re here!” John says first, followed by Matthew and Luke, chiming in about what’s been going on in their lives.

“Boys, boys, give Aunt Becca a chance to breathe, she just got here. There will be time for everything. First of all, take her bags up to the guest room,” she directs and they fall in line, each grabbing something to take.

“Wow! I’m impressed. How do you get them to listen like that?”

“They’ve been wonderful, Bec. They are so happy with Brian being here, and they want to please him. Even when he’s not around, they’ve been listening and behaving like never before. Thank goodness, too. With this one,” she says as she rubs her large belly, “I’ve needed the cooperation. Let’s just pray this one follows suit!”

I follow her out onto the beautiful veranda at the back of the house. The weather is spectacular, a little cool but sunny. We sit and she puts her feet in my lap, pointing to indicate she’d enjoy a foot rub. I oblige, and we sit quietly and enjoy the peace.

“How’re you doing, Bec?” Her Georgia drawl comes out full force when I’m around. I spent years and an obscene amount of money for a voice coach to drum that darned accent out of me, and within ten minutes being around her it slips out.

“Ahm fahn,” shit! “Oh my God, did you hear that? Melanie, this can’t happen. I can’t start talking like Daisy Mae again!”

She laughs so hard, tea shoots out of her nose.

“And just what are you sayin’ there, Miss Priss. Too good for us Suthners?” She’s howling with laughter. This will surely put her into labor.

“You better stop laughin’ so hard, I’m not deliverin’ no babies!” I say with an exaggerated accent. Her face is red from laughter, and I feel a warm, loving sensation inside. This is where I’m meant to be, near my family. I haven’t really known it until right at this moment. I’m happy I made the decision to come out here. I may never leave.

Her laughter slows, finally, and her breathing returns to normal.

“Seriously, though. I’ve been worried about you. This has been one hell of a year for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. It’s been hard, Mel, I can’t lie. I felt so depressed when I left here last time. I was happy watching you and Brian together, and seeing you with the boys. I needed some good things to happen when I went home, and quite the opposite did. I lost my man, place to live and my best job in rapid succession. I have to keep my chin up and believe there must be silver lining in all of this.” I give her a half-hearted smile, and she clutches my hand. I haven’t cried much, if at all, through all of this. I feel it now. Her loving nature and kindness are too much for my cold New Yorker heart. I begin to cry, and it feels as if I’ll never stop. The boys come to the door, and I see her shoo them away. She rubs my back while I have a good old-fashioned pity party.

“All right, as Mom would say, ‘Stop your sobbing, girl, won’t help nothing.’ She has such a way with words, wouldn’t you say?” Melanie says to me with a quick tap on my back. She’s right, and I do feel cried out. I’ve never been a complainer, but when life piles it on all at once, even the strongest are tested.

“You’re right, and, unfortunately, so is Mom. Now, on to much happier things, when is this baby coming?” I grab her belly, and give a gentle wiggle.

“Ooof, don’t do that. I can’t even imagine going another week or more. If God truly loves me, labor will begin now.” She makes a funny face like she’s waiting for something. She looks up to the sky, and says, “OK, I get it. You don’t like me that much.”

She can always make me laugh, no matter what. We go into the house, and her cellphone rings.

“Hi, baby, I’m so glad you called. I’m fine. Yes, she got in OK. We were just catching up. I miss you, too, sweetheart. Be careful out there for me, OK? I love you, too.”

They are so cute.

“Brian sends his love, and he said he can’t wait to see you,” she says with some trepidation.

“What’s wrong? Is he OK?”

“Yes, he’s fine. I’m just worried about him, and I’m worried that he’ll be out of town when the baby comes.” She looks upset.

“Everything will be fine. Mom is coming soon, and I’m here. We’ll videotape the birth if he’s not here,” I say, meaning it as a joke, but she looks horrified.

“What? You most certainly will not! My cooter is not being taped!”

“That’s your biggest concern? Modesty? Don’t you want your husband to see the birth?” Now I’m just egging her on. I know it’s mean, but her reaction is priceless.