Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will" Putting the book on the coffee table, I swing my legs and manage to get up from my seat. The apartment seems lonely and too big when there is only me here, without Naomi cleansing the energy with her rose quartz or Ember playing Gwen Stefani through the speaker. I put one leg in front of the other, making my way through our Upper West Side apartment, heading to the kitchen to make my daily dose of caffeinated beverages. I make a double shot, like a ritual before the Prada show tonight, me starring as the main face of the campaign. Taking my drink, I head back to the couch, ready to slide beneath the blankets and laze about, the ringing interrupts my dream. Managing to reach the phone without moving too much, noticing a notification from Vogue, mentioning my name and my roommates, I click instantly.
NEW YORK IT GIRLS SPOTTED!
The New York IT girls were seen last night, at an exclusive hotel bar, spilling more than just their drinks. Athelia Blair Hartford. Everyone's dream girl. Boys, be ready because this beauty seems to be taken. Our sources tell us Athelia is officially taken. Are we seeing a wedding in the near future? What do the parents think about their darling daughter? Naomi Singh seems to be warming up to New York's unfriendly nature. To satisfy the viewer's eyes, here is Naomi, shopping at Target with a shirt that says 'homebody' Is that a hint she misses home? From what we know, Naomi has not been in contact with her family. Trouble? Ember C.J Camden. Role model or s.l.u.t. Her newest conquest, Nathaniel Moore, another NBA player, seems to agree. What would her father think of her daughter's 'sexual freedom'?
I don't know what the 'source' is other than complete and absolute bullshit. The article features a picture of us, taken as we clink our alcoholic drinks together, laughing. The whole point of going to a bar yesterday was to celebrate without paparazzi there, ruining our moments. Instead, we get to wake up to pictures taken of us with bullshit scribbled underneath. It is one thing to gossip about us. It is another to lie for attention. First off, I am not getting married nor am I in a relationship with some unworthy idiot. Naomi is certainly glad she escaped her patriarchal and restrictive household and Ember is my sexual role model. She empowers women, encouraging them to be sexually free, damn the society for making her or any women feel bad for it while men are praised for it. It's a low blow to bring up her father too. The media lies all the time, throwing successful people into a sphere of lying to entertain and entertaining to manipulate the truth. Being thrust into the public eye at a young age, I was never away from the cameras and constant invasion of privacy. My mother, being the CEO of a luxurious clothing brand, VSL, standing for Victoria Serena Le Devereux while my father owns the luxurious hotels all over the world, I was very familiarised with the concept of the media. While the fans worship the insight into our lives, it destroys our privacy and mental health. I throw the phone onto the carpet, done with the media for the day when the door to the apartment opens, Naomi stumbles inside, hands full of designer shopping bags, including Prada, Dior, YSL and her favourite, Vivienne Westwood. "Hey" she says, severely out of breath. Her currently pink hair clashes with her pink corset top. "Do you want to see what I bought?" She asks, presenting her bags in various hand gestures I laugh at. Nodding my head, she precedes to unpack and show me the pearl necklaces, heels, bags and corset tops she bought. "Do a fashion show" I say in hopes of her doing one. We have a tradition. Whenever we go shopping, we always have to do a fashion show, presenting our bought goods. "Yes!" She exclaims, happy to show her stuff when the door swings open again. This time banging into the wall next to it, the force rattling the light next to it. Ember walks in, anger is spread across her entire face. Naomi and I share a look, knowing that something happened. "Damn the paparazzi! Damn the media. Damn everyone" she says angrily, taking off her air forces and collapsing onto the couch, next to me, putting her head onto my lap, I start giving her a light head massage to dissolve the tension in her body. As excepted, she relaxes enough for Naomi to ask "What happened?". Shooting off my lap, Ember exclaims "Have you seen the Vogue?" .Naomi and I nod. We are not as affected by it as Ember, our names were only mentioned in lies that never happened. Ember's was a twisted truth. Much worse to untangle. "They called me a slut! How dare they! And to mention my father?!" She gestures widely with her hands as she once again drops her head onto my lap. We sit in silence, "We can't do anything about it" Naomi says quietly. Once in the public eye, there is no way out. "I hate it" says Ember, I can only nod. Changing the subject, Ember motions to the bags "what's that". I reply "Naomi went shopping" giving Ember a pointed look that says 'you know what that means'. Ember turns towards Naomi, patting her ass, she says "Well? What are you waiting on? Show us the goodies". Out of everyone, Naomi enjoys the tradition the most, expressing her style and trying to style new things. She takes her bags, stuff falling as she trudges down the hall, to her room to make her runway entrance. We use the hall, simply for it's long structure and the lights at the bottom of the wall that give a high end fashion show effect. Ember and I sit comfortably, ready to watch as the music starts to play.
•••
"Hurry up! ladies, let's go!" Sitting on the high chair in front of the vanity mirror behind the scenes of the Prada fashion show, I watch the momentum unfold before me. The designers making alterations to their clothes, the models running around in underwear, getting their makeup and hair done, dressing up in exclusive attire that costs more than most people's annual salary. "You're all done, sweetheart" the voice behind me says, I go to thank Martha, the extremely talented makeup and hair artist, for her miracle work. "Thank you" She delicately pinches my cheek and smiles. Before I can say something else, someone takes me by the elbow and drags to the curtains to change into the fashionable attire. Handing me the bag with my name written across it, my manager ,Celia, raises her eyebrows at me,smirking. It's a message. One that says 'you're going to live whatever is in that bag'. I don't doubt it. I adore every design Miuccia Prada makes. Quickly changing into the dress, I can't help but admire it. "Athelia!" The coordinator calls my name, I quickly stroll to the curtains, taking my queue to walk down the catwalk. The coordinator counts to the beat of the music. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. "Go!" He lightly but surely pushes me. I regain my balance, coming to the view of the blinding lights and thousands of faces. Putting one leg in front of the other, I swing my hips lightly to the beat of the music, the skirts of my dress sway from the momentum. Everyone stares, looking at the corset atop my chest with admiration. It's stunning to say the least, black material making out the whole with outlines of pure gold detailing and pearls. The skirt is of flat, sheer material, see through yet covering what it need to cover. Walking to the end of the walk, I pose at the end for a few seconds, giving enough time to the photographers to capture the moment and walk back, same speed as before, looking at one point the entirety of the walk. I turn the corner, practically colliding with the coordinator as he rushes to me, pulling me behind the curtains. Celia walks up to me, putting her palms on my cheeks, holding my head in place as she forces me to look directly at her. "That" she pauses, probably for the effect for suspense "will go down in history of fashion"
•••
Model, Athelia Blair, to go down in history for wearing Prada's new spectacular design. The dress is said to be 'out of this world' and 'heavenly' described the critics. Herman Gorge, one of the biggest fashion critics, says "the dress is a piece of art. Simple as that. The model wearing it gave the dress wings"
After reading numerous articles describing the show and the dress throughout the last week, I reach for my phone. I'm currently nestled between pillows, in the safety of my bed and far away from the crazed media. I don't want to be seen. Not today. Everyone wants to get an interview. Celia had to decline multiple times with a proclamation that 'Athelia has a busy schedule'. Technically not a lie. I've been to many shoots over the week, mostly not interesting enough to catch the attention the Prada show has. The door to my room opens, peaking her head in, Ember comes in, holding a mysterious bag as she plops onto the bed,beside me. I try to sneak a peak into the bag but Ember scolds me, smacking my hand away. "I've got you something. But it has to wait" I stick my bottom lip out, not happy with waiting. "Firstly, I would like to say...I-" "we" a voice interrupts her, I jerk my head and see Naomi strutting through the door and sitting in the opposite side of me. All of us are now in my bed. "As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted" Naomi gives her a shy smile as to say I'm sorry as Ember continues "we are so proud of you. We love you so so much" she stretches her arms to me, handing my the bag. "Thank you for being here". I will my eyes not to cry as I accept the bag and open it. Upon seeing its contents, I burst into a sappy mess of tears and laughter "Thank you" I mumble as I put my arms on both of their shoulders, bringing them as close as I possibly can, hugging them for as long as I possibly can, making sure they know how much I love them. The abandoned cake stares up at us, in a circular shape and covered in white frosting, in cursive, red letters at the top is written 'Bad bitches don't cry'. I burst into tears again. It's been 2 years. And I don't think I would have survived have I not met them. "We're here for you. Forever. Whenever." Naomi says as she hugs me tightly. We stay like that for a while, seeping in each other's company. I've never had real friends until them. I would never pick anything else. It will always be them.
AUTHORS NOTE
Hey! This is the first chapter. I know it seems rlly dull but it will get better, I'm just trying to set a tone for the rest, getting you to know the characters and their stories as we go on. I know this isn't everyone's cup of tea but please give it a go. Take care of urself Drink water and eat something Ily <3
