No Such Thing

Chapter 1

Playlist:
Midnight City - M83
Manhattan - Kings of Leon
Magnets - Disclosure ft. Lorde

There are about a hundred different shades of black. Let's say for each shade, you have about six different articles of clothing. You now have a wardrobe for what looks like a small country. Now the next time someone gives me a hard time for constantly wearing nothing but black, I'll shove those facts right up their asses.

I grab my black Chloé bag and head out of my apartment. There's something endearing about New York City in the summertime, or maybe that's just my brain melting from what feels like being in a metropolitan toaster oven. Everyone seems to thaw out cold attitudes after our harsh winters, but I see past it.

As I open my Twitter app, the first thing I see is everyone buzzing about the latest "ratpack" soirée. The ratpack is what I call this group of socialites that are, well, a bunch of rats. The girls are the "let me use daddy's money to keep up with my perfectly sculpted cheekbones" type and the guys just sleep with any living female with a set of silicone breasts that could sink the titanic. But the worst part of all is that everyone is so wrapped up in their drama and scandals and who's being fake to each other today or who banged whose girlfriend last night. It's quite sickening that people are still so obsessed with rich snobs with no substance. Then again, I'm biased since I deal with it every day.

A girl with a mindset or attitude like mine doesn't seem at all the type to be a model. I feel strangely in control whenever a camera is pointing in my direction or a runway is beneath my feet, and the agencies see that. Otherwise, I'm the first one to point out every flaw I've got, but I guess that keeps me grounded, unlike the rest of these girls. The worst thing about working with IMG, the biggest modeling agency in the world, is that I have to see a couple of the rats way more often than I'd like to. Just my luck that I'm constantly casted for the same shows as they are, not that they deserve it. They don't even work for it, yet I see them beat out girls with walks that could crush armies just because money talks.

One of my many talents is hailing cabs. As I slip into one and direct the driver to the nearest Starbucks, I get a call from my agent. "Stella, darling! I have some lovely news." I'm sure it's less than lovely. "What's up, Jo?" "Don't sound to enthusiastic. You're walking Lanvin tonight." "No fucking way.. I thought they were casting a bunch of the Polish girls?" "Seems like they have a taste for a different kind of attitude this time around." I can practically hear her smirking through the phone. They can't stand my cynicism and sarcasm at the office. "Looks like being a bitch sometimes pays off then. Do I even have time to get coffee?" "Yeah and maybe get yourself a shot of tequila while you're at it. You're closing the show, and Georgia's right behind you." Me... Closing for Lanvin... Over a ratpack member. Oh, this is too good. "Okay so basically what you're telling me is that this is the best day ever." "Haha, see you in fifteen kiddo." She hangs up and I almost forget I'm in a cab because I can't stop laughing in disbelief.

As I arrive to IMG offices, spiked iced coffee in hand, (I wasn't taking any chances) I breathe in the chaos and bustle of everyone running around like chickens without heads trying to prep for tonight. I hear Jo's booming voice calling me in the distance. She's an older woman but as a former model, still strikingly beautiful. Her hair is dark which makes her ice blue eyes pop out of her head. She always acts like my attitude exhausts her but I'm definitely her favorite client. Plus she can't stand the ratpack either. "Are you ready to go? Your skin looks great. Is there alcohol in that? Hand it over." I thought she was gonna take a sip but she throws it out despite my protests. She drags me out to the car and off we go to the venue.

A smile grows on my face as I see Georgia Jett snarling at me like I stole her boyfriend. There's nothing quite as as satisfying as pissing off a self-absorbed bitch.