𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter nine: carved heart❜❜

❧July 21, 1958☙

I need a job badly. My father apparently got laid off for not showing up to work for two days in a row. I was starting to become frustrated with him; he was going downhill and quickly. I gathered a few things and went over to Paul's house. John and him with writing there, Mimi didn't let John play a lot at home. I knocked on the door and awaited an answer. To my surprise, John answered it quite quickly.

"'Ello, 'ello, 'ello. 'Ow are you me angel?" He beamed.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Shut your trap, John."

No, we aren't dating, just to clear that up. I wasn't ready for something like that, plus he didn't even ask.

"Come 'ed!" He motioned for me to walk in. 

I made my way to the living room, where Paul was sat scribbling on a piece of paper. I smiled at the sight. It always amazed me how creative they were.

"Right? Well, we were kinda done. I was fixin' a few things." Paul waved the paper in the air at his co-writer.

John clasped his hands together and sat beside me, "So what did'ya need?"

"A job." I threw my head back at the thought.

We both sat in silence, and I could just feel John thinking up a storm.

"You could work for a modelin' agency." He proposed.

Paul perked his head up, "That'd work. You're awfully pretty, Liza."

John squinted at him, "Cheeky."

He then put an arm around my shoulders, so I leaned my head onto him. 

"Isn't it a bunch of work? Good grief, I feel it wouldn't be any fun."

John reassured, "I'm sure it's quite simple. You just walk in, pose, then get money."

❧August 29, 1959☙

So much for "walk in, pose, then get money." It was quite hard because, in order to make it in such a cut-throat industry, you have to develop tough skin, for there are people who say some very unkind things. I had set myself up with a good agency and had done quite a bit of photoshoots. I was getting more experienced and learning my way around the community, and I wasn't going to stop now because I was being paid a reasonable amount.

Currently, I was just waiting for John to come and walk me home. He was taking his precious time too. A random guy sat beside me on the bench; he had dirty blonde hair and a chiseled face. I presumed he was one of the models as well.

"Hey, you got a light?" He nudged me.

I looked at him with a smile, "I don't smoke, sorry."

He spoke in an un-Liverpudlian accent, "That's alright. I haven't seen you here before."

"No?" I asked.

I was a bit surprised he hadn't. This place was like my second home now.

"I tell you what; I saw you model, you're pretty good. I could hook you up with some of the best, get you going somewhere. Especially out of Liverpool." He handed me his card.

Maybe he wasn't a model, but he sure was pretty like one. I took the card and read it over. It had a number on it and his name. Jack Young. It was a very interesting name; maybe he was Scottish? There was no accent, though.

I looked back up at him, "Do you mind if I ask where you are from?"

"Hamburg." He moved the hair out of his eyes.