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The sounds of the machinery blur together. Sitting on a comfortable chair with my copy of 'Jane Eyre', I try my best to relax but with no sleep and a lack of nutrition, it is hard to grasp my nerves. I am anxious about the campaign, sure. But I am petrified of flying. The lack of knowledge where we currently are, the only thing we get is the time and occasional updates from the crew and the pilot. I end up closing my book, looking around me, Naomi reads a magazine about fashion on one of the couches while Ember sleeps in her silk blue sleeping mask, blocking the sun from her view. Celia occupies the chair with the desk, as always on many electronic devices, booking events and sessions for the campaign. The campaign. The one that begins this weekend, staring off in USA, Los Angeles and later we are off to Europe for a world tour. The campaign also sponsors one of the F1 teams, Bernardi. I've done my research on them. One of the best F1 racer teams in European history of F1 which means they selected us to gain publicity in the US, probably thinking some barbie IT girls are going to show up, cause trouble and drama while looking pretty and give them the entrance they need into the US media. Wrong. We are all doing this to regain our images. The media went wild after the party, claiming us to be "attention whores" and "sluts". It is truly a miracle no brands decided to drop us. Pretty privilege is a thing. Someone shakes my shoulder and I realise I was staring into nothing. Naomi asks "are you okay? you zoned out again". She's worried because I have a vivid of doing that a lot. "Im fine" I smile at her and take her hand in mine as she squeezes it. "Are you exited?" She asks, looking at our joined hands, certainly hopeful this will turn out okay. "I'm...curious" I say "me too" she replies with a small smile. We still in silence for a few minutes, when Naomi breaks the spell "Did you hear from your parents?". They refused to comment on their daughter's activities to the media. "No. I don't answer their calls anymore" I say, Naomi nods "did you" I ask her instead, a little bit hopefully she gets to repair her relationship with them. "They wouldn't understand...or pick up for that matter. The disgraced daughter" she laughs it off but it pains her. My gaże falls to a cluster of magazines spread across the coffee table. Vouge, cosmopolitan, Elle, bazaar, vanity fair. Every magazine and gossip website online have already shared the story, their views of what had occurred and who is at 'fault'. I already hated the media but suddenly I hate them a hundred times more, especially after the article from Vanity Fair online that claimed "men have gone wild" for us because we are beautiful and dress in a certain way. It is horrible! It's basically saying Naomi was asking for it because of the dress she wore! And to find out a woman wrote that despicable article! "I'm hungry" she states as she gets up and turns towards me to ask "want anything" I smile as I shake my head. Food hasn't been on my mind lately. She smiles although I can see the concern in her eyes as she turns and heads for the kitchen area behind the curtain near the bar. The crew is either there or in their private rooms. Celia's continuous typing fills the air, I turn towards her and ask "any news about the campaign?" She breaks her eyes from the computer, pulling her glasses to the tip of her nose as she looks at me "not much. Some photoshoots and walks to promote the team, mainstream media interviews and posts on social media" "so nothing new" I shrug. "You will need to associate with the team". I look at her "you haven't mentioned that before". It's her tune to shrug as she turns back to her computer "is that going to be a problem?". I shake my head "no. I'm just surprised, that's all". "You should reinstall social media. The sponsors will ask about why you, out of all of you, don't have it" "it's none of their business" I replied, defending myself. I didn't owe anyone an explanation for what I did or did not do. No shitting way was I going to need to explain myself in front of some people who know nothing about me or my life outside the public eye. She looks at me once more before returning to her work. The captains voice booms through the speakers "Ladies, this flight has reached its final destination. We will be landing as soon as we are permitted to do so. Welcome to Los Angeles"
