How to be a Model

Chapter Three

Jonathon stared at her, and then looked back at me incredulously.

"You have got to be kidding," his expression told me he couldn't believe what he seeing. "You want me to do something with ... that?"

I opened my mouth to defend Blaire, but then shut it. Jonathon hated it when people argued with him, and I was trying to get on his good side so he would say yes to my proposition. Plus Blaire kinda deserved that comment, considering the tattered jeans and menacing expression she wore, slouching in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest. She had not been impressed when I told her we were going to a photo studio. In fact, I had had to bribe her with a brand-new computer for her to cooperate. I couldn't exactly blame her for her irritation though, because I had had to smuggle her into a limo so the paparazzi wouldn't get a snap of her. A before and after story on Blaire would be almost as bad as just a before.

"Please, Jonathon, you are the most amazing stylist I have ever met!" I exclaimed emphatically, laying it on thick. Realistically, he was pretty good, but a pain-in-the-butt, just like most stylists. Had to have things his way or not at all. "I know you can help her! Better than anyone else..."

His brown eyes, disturbingly highlighted with the same black Kohl's eyeliner as mine, narrowed as he considered what I was saying. After a long silence, he sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling, as if praying for patience.

"Fine," he said shortly. "I will see what I can do."

I breathed an inward sigh of relief and smiled my thanks. I have found in my modelling career that a smile is the most powerful thing a woman possesses; the effect it has on people is profound. And not just on guys. Girls tend to be friendlier and more open if I smile at them. The look of irritation and exasperation faded a little from Jonathon's face when I smiled at him.  

Jonathon marched towards Blaire, a determined expression on his arrogant face. I followed hesitantly after him, fully aware of how stubborn Blaire could be. It would be a battle of wills, that was for sure, with only one winner... now the question remaining was, who would it be? I hoped that Jonathon would come out on top, for Blaire's sake, and my own. She desperately needed saving from herself.

"You," Jonathon snapped, drawing Blaire's attention from her lack of nail beds. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"What?" she snapped.

"You're coming with me," he said. Snapping his fingers, two of his assistants rushed forward, grabbed Blaire, and whisked her off after Jonathon. I followed hastily, not wanting to miss what happened next. Jonathon hurried Blaire into a room I'd never been into (I am usually clothed and beautified in a barely curtained off area for shoots, not only at this studio, but at all of them – there is no privacy when it comes to modelling!). Jonathon turned to me before we entered the room that the assistants had already rushed Blaire into.

"This is my emergency room," he snapped. "Anything and everything I need to fix her is in here. You owe me big-time."

I nodded while restraining myself from rolling my eyes. Blaire glared at me as I came into the room and took a seat in a chair, ready to watch. If looks could kill... well, let's just say I'd be dead. Very, very dead.

"What am I doing here?" Blaire addressed her question to Jonathon, who was circling her like a vulture. He ignored her question, strode over to the door and called out, "Jasmine, Katarina, I need you in the emergency room, pronto!"

Returning to look at Blaire, he said to his assistants, "Off with the clothes."

The assistants walked forward and grasped Blaire's arms again. Her expression went from irritated curiosity to blatant rage. Jerking her arms away, she stood and planted her hands on her hips.