𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter ten: poems❜❜

❧August 30, 1959☙

I woke up the next morning in my comfortable fluffy covers. Songbirds were whistling their tunes as I pried my eyes open. I stretched out with a big groan. Something was so nice about the very first stretch you took in the morning, the kind that had you almost passing out. Finally, I planted my feet on the ground and stood up. My plan for the day was to call Jack Young. After the chat I had with John the other day, I felt inspired to do whatever I could to get out of this place. Hopefully, Mr. Young had something in store for me. I searched my bag for the business card and then went downstairs to the phone with it. I spun in the numbers and let it ring. After a bit of static, I heard the phone pick up.

"'Ello!"

"Hello?"

"Hi, yes, hi. Erm, this is Elizabeth Rigby callin' for a Jack Young?"

"This is him." He chuckled.

I sat more comfortably on the couch, "I was just callin' to try and maybe take you up on your offer."

"Of course." He beamed.

"Right, well, uh, what exactly is it?" I laughed at myself.

I could hear him flipping through stuff as if he were scrambling to find something.

"Oh, so basically I'd get you a fantastic manager, with one of the best modeling agency I might add, and get you on the front pages of magazines, going on runways, and possibly in commercials—whole nine yards. Lots of travel, of course, but that's just part of it, isn't it? So the-"

I cut him off to ask something, "When you say one of the best modelin' agencies, what do you mean? Like which one?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Oh, come off it." I rolled my eyes.

"Ford Models."

My brain seized to work; it shut off. Ford Models? The most well-known agency in the world? 

"See, I knew you wouldn't believe me." He sighed jokingly.

I sputtered out, "How? Like- Um, how do you have access to them?"

"Well, I work for them. I'd be your manager."

I chuckled, "The one you said was fantastic."

"I had to sell you on it. I couldn't say mediocre." He defended himself.

"Right, well... I'm game. How do we do this?" I twirled the phone's cord between my fingers.

"Contracts, lots of lots of lots bloody contracts."

❧September 10, 1959☙

Currently, I was in Jack's office signing a few things for the company. If that wasn't clear enough, I had been hired for a week now. I put the pen down and handed it back to him. He looked over the paper and flashed me a quick smile. 

"Lovely." He then cleared his throat, "Right, so I have a few things to talk with you about. There is a big photography scene going on in Hamburg at the moment, so a lot of modeling opportunities are rising. This leads me to my point, would you like to go there for a photoshoot? I mean, if not, it might be a while till we can actually get you going somewhere, but this is the first thing we can offer you."

Without much thought to it, I instant answered, "Yes! That would be marvelous."

His eyebrows raised, "Oh. Alright then, we will get on that. I'll give you a call tomorrow after I have a talk with the booking agent."