❛❛chapter eleven: sutcliffe❜❜

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January 17, 1960

I had been back and forth between going all around Europe doing photoshoots. People really loved my looks. I didn't quite see it, but I appreciated the compliments I got. Also, the photographer, Everlyn, the one that took the photo of my crying, actually sent in those pictures, and they got on the front page of Seventeen. There was big talk about it and how forbidden it was to show a model crying, but it just made more business for me.

I actually got many fan letters telling me how much they admired me and wished to be like me, which was sweet but so weird to think about. I never got compliments like that back home. Even in America, I was hot news to them; everyone wanted to book me. I don't get how I got so big and so fast.

I was swamped moving around, which kinda sucked because John and I didn't have much time together, and I really missed his company, but he had his own things going, doing gigs almost every night. I was so proud of what he had done for himself and that he was following his dreams. 

At the moment, I was in a car going home— home not being my dad's house. I had made enough money for myself to get a nice apartment in Liverpool for the short time I was in my hometown. I wasn't too ecstatic about spending money in Liverpool, but at least it gave me somewhere to crash and hang out with the lads. 

The car stopped in front of my apartment, and I thanked the driver and tipped him. The modeling agency already paid him, but I just felt bad that I didn't talk the entire ride. I started to walk over to my steps, but I found a figure sitting on them.

"I thought I'd never see you again." He put a hand on his forehead dramatically.

"Cheeky." I squinted at Lennon.

He stood up, towering over me a bit. I grinned and hugged him.

"Long time no see, ay." I chuckled.

John groaned, "It's been a week. Why did I have to give you the bright idea of bein' a model."

"Because you're a daft bloke." I pinched his cheek.

I retracted from his arms and walked up the steps to unlock my apartment. John hadn't had a proper tour of the place, but it was nice, for Liverpool, that is. Anywhere else, this would be awful and frowned upon. I opened the door and let him walk in first. I came in last and shut the door.

"I bet you're makin' millions with your pretty face."

"Shut up, John." I rolled my eyes, "I did actually get on a newspaper, though. I was so surprised when one of my model friends showed me."

"Lemme see it then!" He sounded eager.

I grabbed my bag, took out the folded piece of paper, and handed it to him. 

"Ahh, look at you

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"Ahh, look at you." He awed while wrapping an arm around my shoulder, "Beautiful."

"I didn't expect them to talk about me mother for almost all the article. Also, they spelled closest wrong." I took the paper back.

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)Where stories live. Discover now