Not Just A Pretty Face

22. Leonel

The makeup artist -- Katrina or some weird spelling of the name -- barely had to convince me to sit still. I was happy to lean back in the chair with my eyes closed, moving as little as possible.

Christ, this was a hangover like none other. I didn’t remember the last hour or so of last night, except that I’d been having a shitload of fun.

After watching two womenswear shows with a couple of my buddies -- Joaquín and Mikhail, another of Prestige’s top models -- we’d wound up at some crazy after-party. Champagne had flowed freely.

A little too freely.

I didn’t want to open my eyes, but I was walking for Giuseppe and Nicolas today, and there was going to be a lot of media attention. Which meant more after-parties, more reporters and photographers and silently standing behind those two, looking pretty.

Actually, not opening my mouth much sounded really good.

My stomach had settled, but my head was still pounding. Good thing I had a better natural runway expression than anyone else in this damn show.

And then there was the text I’d gotten from Gideon. I hadn’t even formed an answer to it yet. I had to ask Raymond first. He managed my schedule pretty well, even if he sometimes sprung surprise parties or photo shoots on me.

Oh, yeah, there was supposed to be some staged street fashion shoot this afternoon, too.

I sighed, turning my head to the side slightly to avoid the bright lights, but Katrina turned my face back. I resisted the urge to look away again and just tapped my foot. I didn’t have time for this shit. Wasn’t I good-looking enough on my own?

Gideon had told me as much, anyway.

“Leonel, my man, how’re you?” That was Raymond’s cheerful voice from the entrance of the room. I groaned quietly.

“I’m here. I might smile if they’re paying enough.”

“They’re paying more than enough.”

“I’ll smile, then.” I cracked my eyes and leaned forward when Katrina murmured that I was good to go. I turned around in the chair, banging my heel against the footrest a few times. “What am I doing tonight after all the… work shit?”

“More work shit.” Raymond smiled wryly. “Gideon will be in town, so you, Mikhail, and Joaquín plus him, plus probably me. We’re all going to a soiree. More like a cocktail thing. Drinks and maybe dancing. You three just have to mingle and be photographed for a few hours. Saturday’s a big day, though. You have to be ready for it.”

Raymond had been beating this goddamn horse since our flight out here. Saturday was the day the world would watch me, now that people knew I was someone to watch out for.

I had to be perfect that day.

“I know, I know. I’ll take a couple aspirin and Gatorade in the morning if I’m out late.” I groaned, pushing myself theatrically to my feet.

Raymond eyed me for a moment but then let it go, nodding sharply. “Come on, this way. The producer’s losing his shit that you were late.”

“Five minutes. I’m sorry. I got lost,” I lied.

Four forty-five a.m. had been five minutes too early for me to peel myself out of bed that morning, and I’d needed to take an extra-long shower. I’d trotted -- hell though it had been -- down the street from my hotel to the stage door.

And thankfully, it had been too early for even the dedicated paparazzi. Tomorrow, though, they’d be waiting any hour of the night.

My name was spread all across the internet now. If my parents Googled me, they’d see that I’d made something of myself… for now.

I couldn’t fuck it up.

* * *

“Hey, man. You were fucked up last night,” Joaquín greeted. He was in a little black classic vest, they called it over here, and was waiting for the tailor by his feet to finish working on the hems around his ankles.

“Oh, I know,” I groaned. “Or I don’t know, but I can infer.”

“You blacked out? You were a riot, though,” he assured me with a laugh. “And you went home alone, in case you were worried.”

That didn’t surprise me, for some reason. Despite all the models and editors and interns throwing themselves at me, I hadn’t taken up a single one of them.

Except Gideon.

That was different. He’d known me before my fame.

Everyone else probably wanted to use my talent or fame, and I was sick to death of being used by assholes who wanted to build their own name on my back. Or my money.

But I did take a sick sense of pleasure learning that Hayden had been rejected from tonight’s show. He’d tried to get work in London, too, apparently, and had been pretty soundly ignored. I didn’t know why, because nobody would talk to me about it.

“We’re going out tonight after the magazine shoot.”

“Christ, that’s tonight?” I groaned again, stepping into the jeans that were handed over. God, they weren’t even that fashionable, and I eyed them twice. The shirt saved the outfit, though. When I buttoned it up, someone interrupted me to strategically unbutton some buttons, so I let them do their work.

“Yeah, for all three of us. We’re gonna need a lot to drink after that.” Joaquín smirked. “You hear the photographer?”

“No.” I had an awful feeling I knew.

“Clive.”

“Oh, shit. Raymond. Raymond!” I yelled when he didn’t answer.

After a minute, he appeared backstage. “What’s the matter?”

“Clive? You didn’t fuckin’ tell me why?”

He winced. “I didn’t want to put you off. Look, he’ll work with you if you’re--”

“Willing to let him take ugly-ass photos? No thanks.”

“I’ll be there the whole time,” he promised. “For all three of you. And everything has to be approved by us, too. We’re looking out for you, Leo. Your career’s in our hands.”

I eyed him but went silent to let Giuseppe talk to his stylist person about the necklace he wanted me wearing.

Hopefully that asshole Clive knew how to respect me now. Now I was a big enough name that I couldn’t be ignored.

A production assistant popped her head into the room to tell us that we had ten minutes before we had to be ready to walk on.

Joaquín pursed his lips and cast a can you believe it? look at me once Raymond stepped out of the room again.

I snorted and shook my head. “Where’s the party?”

“Out somewhere. We’ll change and meet in my room after we get back from the shoot.” He held still to let them put a bracelet on him, then turned it over for a closer look.

Another party sounded awesome. I could get a new Instagram profile pic tonight, and maybe a few more drinks into me to chase off the last of this hangover.