Illusions

2. unproblematic

Amira's POV

The drive to my publicist's office is filled with overthinking and anxiety. 

I keep fiddling with my rings and hoodie strings as I try to let the music distract me. 

It's not.

"Ma'am," the driver says, bringing me back to reality, "we're here, your total today is 70 dollars, have a good night."

I give him a 100 and thank him before slowly walking into the building. 

As I approach the front desk, I recognize Lyla, the receptionist, and wave to her, to which she returns with a weary smile.

What is happening?

 "Mrs. Santucci is up in her office waiting for you," she says on her way out, "have a good night, Ms. Amira."

I nod and take the elevator to Juliana's office, continuing my ring fidgeting. I look at myself in the elevator's mirror and examine my current state.

Still decked out in my show makeup and hair, I look insane in my simple gray hoodie and matching sweatpants. I slip my phone into my bag because I know that Juliana hates it when I have it out during meetings; this one seems essential, more so than others I've had. 

As soon as the doors open, I'm greeted by Juliana's face. Her usually calm face is contorted with worry and stress.

"Finally, we have much to talk about," she drags me into her office, "let's go."

I follow her into her glass office, which overlooks New York, only the best for the best, I guess.

I sit down on one of the chairs in front of her desk and wait for her to tell me the news.

"I just got married and now I'm staying until ten pm at my job," she scoffs, shrugging her jacket off, "this isn't your fault, honey, this is just the modeling industry doing what it does best."

I feel a bit guilty for keeping Juliana from her husband, the poor woman almost didn't get married because Mr. Santucci's family wanted a younger, more submissive housewife. Juliana is the opposite of that, in the best way.

"And what would that be?"

"Your agency's liquidating their assets as we speak," she says, getting right to the point, "you need to find a new one before they formally shut down."

Fuck.

"Okay, so we go to casting calls and whatever else," I shrug, trying not to show my stress, "I've been in the industry for three years, we'll find a new one, right?"

She doesn't say anything.

"I already tried to get you a new agency," she sighs, pushing her glasses up over her nose, "but no one seems to know who you are, they want someone who brings gossip and tabloids with them. You are one of the most unproblematic people I work with, and while people do know you, some agencies want people who bring a bit of drama with them. As long as that drama isn't cancellable, we're talking messy breakups, famous baby daddies, or high-profile romances."

"I guess being unproblematic isn't a good thing anymore then," I sigh, picking up one of the waters on her desk, "what do you think I should do, I know you have a plan."

She looks at me with a sparkle in her eyes. 

"Spit it out, please?"

"You need to date someone," she says quickly, holding her hands out to stress the message, "I know you're not looking for a relationship, so all I'm saying is a public relationship, no real feelings or commitment."