When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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The rude awakening came early in the morning. Isabelle managed to grab the phone before the last ring and groggily get out a 'hello?'
Her managers voice already going at 60 mph as she spoke, but Isabelle only heard one thing.
"He wants you to come back."
"Wait, what?" Isabelle suddenly felt very awake, sitting up in bed rubbing her eyes.
"I swear, sometimes it feels like you never actually listen to what I say," the manager sighing heavily over the phone but quickly gathering it together, "the photographer, Isabelle, he needs to do a reshoot."
"Why?" Isabelle asked though she didn't mind, obviously. Thinking about the possible connection that was on the table here, even amidst all the tension.
"They said he didn't get all the shots they wanted and that hey wanted to try something new," there were other voices on the other end of the line.
"New, like, how new?" Isabelle asked all of a sudden with a little apprehension in her voice.
"They need you to go to a loft, do a set show," her manager tried to sound normal but Isabelle thought she could feel some confusion on her side too. "They're paying overtime." Ah, there it was.
"Ok..I guess. When do they need me?" Isabelle looked at the alarm clock and realized she slept in again as it was almost noon.
"Golden hour. Come around 6? I'll send you the address."
"Okay," Isabelle exhaled the air she din't realize she was holding in this whole time.
"Ok ciao, let me know how it goes." And before she could even utter a 'ciao' back, the line went dead and almost immediately she got a text with an address.
Clicking on it, it was a penthouse in mid Manhattan.
"Fancy," Isabelle said to no one in particular. She threw her phone on her bed and got up, not changing out of the oversized t-shirt she was wearing. She padded down the hard wood floors to her small but sunny kitchen and stared blankly. Never a really a fancy cook, she was always determined to learn but never really got around to it (Always on the road as a model, eating whatever was around), she nevertheless reached for a box of cereal above her fridge and sat at the kitchen table with some cold milk, too distracted about the upcoming night to really focus on something as trivial as food.
