Pretty As a Picture

The Beginning

December 24, 2013 – New York City, New York

It was a long day and Mike Rob was exhausted. He tore off his coat and handed it to Petra, the housekeeper. She nodded gracefully and turned on her heel to take the coat to his closet. As she approached the end of the foyer and the beginning of the staircase, she turned around and caught his attention.

"Sir," she said and jumped a little when he snapped his eyes to hers. "I turned on the news and your chamomile is on the bear."

"Thank you, Petra," he muttered, dismissing her. She turned dutifully and walked up the stairs.

Mike walked slammed the French doors open and stepped into his parlor. The custom white furniture painted a stark canvas for the centerpiece of the room to be highlighted. A table shaped like a bear was sparkling charcoal and a silver mug sat atop the back. Mike snatched the mug away and sat down on the couch, staring at the happy little news anchor.

He had the worst day. Mike was the top fashion photographer in the United States. He was asked to shoot for Dior, he was begged to shoot for Italian Vogue, and his insight on the Yves Saint Laurent commercial saved the entire company. But now some little pipsqueak director dared to say he had lost his eye? She had the nerve to say that his insights on selecting the model was "unnecessary"?

It was a concept shoot and we needed a girl who was versatile and new. They wanted someone special. Someone never seen before. But that little pipsqueak and her idiotic groupies wouldn't even consider looking outside of the same pool of models. Mike took a long draw from his tea. His mouth was numb to the searing liquid as it burned his throat.

They were idiots. They were all idiots.

To take his mind off of the day's arguments around a conference table, Mike turned his gaze to the TV, and it is a good thing that he did. If his life was a movie, this would be the moment where the character has an extreme close-up while their eyes dilate in confusion and delight.

Without thinking for a moment, he grabbed his phone and dialed the pipsqueak, not taking his eyes off of the girl. The sixteen-year-old made national television from singing an inspired version of "O Holy Night" at her school's Christmas concert. She was tall, thin, tan, and her hair fell in sleek curls down her back.

"Mike..." A high pitch voice answered the phone. "Babe I told you, we can take-."

"I found our girl. Turn on NYC11." Mike hung up the phone abruptly, knowing that he was right.

The girl kept singing on the screen as a ribbon flashed along the bottom.

Voice of an Angel: Sixteen Year Old Maureen White 

Kennedy, California

Maureen had no idea, but because of this man across the country, her whole life was going to change. And it was going to change that night.