Masquerade ✔️

two: nate

I must confess, how hard I tried to breathe through the trees of loneliness.

Unedited.

"Action!" The director yells, leaning back in his chair.

I step forwards, checking for the gun beside me.

"You did this." I snarl at my co-star, who sits up in the chair. My American accent feels fake, but Andrew doesn't stop me.

"What are you talking about, Vic?" He asks, panicked.

"You killed Meghan. You killed the only woman I ever loved!" I roar, slamming my hand on the table and making it shake.

"I loved her too!" Aaron screams back, standing up so angrily he knocks over his chair.

"And you killed her." I breathe hoarsely, drawing the gun from my belt.

"You going to kill me, Vic? Go ahead." Aaron taunts as I bring the gun up to chest level. 

"I'm not going to kill you, Jack." I say, then press the barrel to my temple.

"What are you doing?" Aaron's eyes widen, but he doesn't move.

"I'm going to see Meghan again." I keep my face somber, placing a finger on the trigger.

"Don't! Vic, I know you loved her, but don't-" Aaron starts, but I cut him off.

"See you in hell, Jack." I pull the trigger.

The gun is fake, of course, but I still crumple to the ground. They'll edit in a bullet and a wound later.

"Cut!" Andrew orders and I stand up, giving Aaron a high-five.

"Nice work, guys. Once more, alright?" Andrew grins, getting up and moving over to Aaron.

"Aaron, I want more emotion at the end. Your best friend just killed himself. I want shock, horror, give me pure surprise. Cool?"

I'm still surprised at how young Andrew Petrova is. He's no more than thirty and is one of the best directors in Hollywood.

Where I, at twenty-seven, have just started my film career with this lead movie role.

"Action!"

I exhale and turn to face Aaron, curling my lip angrily.

"You did this."

• • •

"Tonight is the night!" The cheerful reporter on E Nightly chirps, her voice ridiculously perky as she continues.

"Andrew Petrova's monthly parties are famous around the globe, and each features a rotating cast of characters. There are some staples, Noelle Bellerose, for example. She's attended every one of Petrova's galas, and with her newfound fame, we want to find her in the crowd." A magazine cover comes up on the screen and I pause, wanting to read the headline.

Uncensored, Unapologetic.

Noelle Bellerose is taking over.

On love, life and newfound fame.

The young woman on the cover is gorgeous, perched on a stool with all the grace of a model. She's got long brown hair, brown eyes and a flawless complexion, her lips curled not in a smile, but hardly a frown.

"Perhaps one of these ladies is Miss Bellerose." The screen changes again, this time to footage of an extravagant set of steps. A few people are making their way up the stairs, all dressed in gowns and suits and wearing elegant masks.

"Since no cameras are allowed in the mansion, we settle for guessing. Another rule is all guests must wear masks, so as to remain anonymous." This woman is starting to irritate me, and with the press of a button, she's silenced.

I grab my phone and open safari, typing the words Noelle Bellerose.

Wikipedia seems to be a reliable source, so I click on that first.

Noelle Marie Thérèse Bellerose-Paxton (born 3rd December 1991) is a French model, best known for her work as a Victoria's Secret Angel, among whom she is currently the only French model.

Feeling like reading everything about her might be creepy, even though I'll never meet her, I go back and open the first news article I find.

Before I can start to read, someone knocks on the door, probably my pizza.

I open the door and pay the delivery guy, taking the box and closing the door after he leaves.

Chewing a bite of the first slice, I sit back down on my bed and pick up my phone again.

Noelle Bellerose; Uncensored and Unapologetic.

Every head swivels as Noelle Bellerose enters the coffee house, eyes wide and cellphones snapping pictures.

Though she's dressed like any other ordinary college girl in New York, an off the shoulder white sweater and distressed skinnies, Noelle is anything other than ordinary.

At only twenty-three, approaching her birthday in early December, the French model has quickly risen to the top. After getting a Victoria's Secret Angel contract, Noelle promptly overthrowing the stereotype of an Angel by being successful in high-fashion shows and working for Balmain, Dior and Versace. She's recently signed on to be the new face of Maybelline and been featured on the cover of Vogue and Cosmopolitan in the past two months. Every magazine wants her featured before she hits the elite and we at Glamour are no exception.

Noelle introduces herself with a grin, sitting down across from me with all the grace of a model. She takes a sip of the latte and accepts my compliment with a small, gracious smile.

"Can I just say thank you for agreeing to meet me today?" I thank her.

"The pleasure's all mine." Noelle replies, her French accent thick and startling.

"I imagine your newfound fame must be startling."

"Well, yeah. I was just a model, then I got my wings and my whole world just exploded. I got a message from a fan the other day, someone got my catalogue cover tattooed on their bum. It was really strange, little scary, actually, I'm a bit afraid of stalkers." Noelle tells me, laughing a little.

I finish the article quickly and then get up, walking over to the bathroom.

Standing under the hot water for twenty minutes calms me down, the spray easing the knots of a twelve-hour workday from my muscles.

Acting isn't all that exciting, really. I mean, my co-stars are great and working with such an incredible crew is awesome, but you know. It's a lot of three am call times and travelling. I don't make many friends on the job and often spend hours waiting around or filming the same scene over and over.

But honestly?

I wouldn't trade my life in for the world.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this view into Nate's lifestyle.

Vote, comment, enjoy.