Chapter Four
Kayla
"Whatever you have to do to get this job today, do it," Mick dictated. He was laying on our bed in his ripped jeans and a dirty tee-shirt, watching me get dressed for my call-back at Speed Motorcycles. It was just making me more nervous.
"How can you say that me? Most boyfriends want their girlfriends only for themselves, to love, cherish, and protect. They don't prostitute them out to any sleaze who wants to see them naked." I felt hurt that Mick was so eager for me to be ogled and groped by strange men. Didn't he care about me at all?
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to be a model. What did you think modeling was? It's posing for men, with your tits and ass hanging out, so strangers can get off while looking at you."
"Modeling is so much more than that. It's about beauty, grace, style, fashion, and presenting things in the best light. It's about creating an image of something that melds fantasy with reality, want with desire."
"Yeah, that's what I said: getting guys off." Mick grunted. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes at him. He didn't understand my career, and I was beginning to wonder if he even understood me. All Mick saw when he thought of my career was dollar signs and sleaze.
A part of me wondered if he was right, though; after all, he had told me I needed to expose myself to get jobs, and the time my bikini top falls off is the one time I get a call back. Maybe I did need to sacrifice my morals to get the jobs — but I just didn't know if I could bring myself to do it. Feeling self-righteous, I put on my most conservative outfit: a white sundress with pink flowers embroidered along the edges, a cardigan sweater, and wedge sandals.
"How's this dress look?" I turned to face Mick, and he scowled.
"No. You look like a damn Sunday school teacher in that thing. Take it off, and put on that sexy mini-dress I bought you for your birthday."
Mick's reaction settled it for me: I was wearing the sundress. I took the time to curl my hair so it fell to my shoulders in gentle rings that bounced lightly. I kept my make-up minimal, not wanting to look vampy or overtly sexual. I needed to make it clear in this meeting that yesterday's flashing of my breasts was an accident and I had no interest in trading my sexuality for the job. I was a good-girl, devoted to my fiancé, and just looking for an honest day's pay for my modeling services. Nothing more. Some pink nail polish on my fingertips and toes completed the look, and I left feeling sunny and bright, like a fresh, country breeze in the city.
As I sat in the waiting room of Speed Motorcycles’ executive floor, I began to rethink my strategy. The walls were lined with framed photographs of the company's motorcycles, each with a model looking sexy as sin posing along with it. Their shorts were skimpy enough to show their ass cheeks and their bikini tops left little to the imagination. It was easy to speculate that any of these women would have been willing to sleep their way into successful modeling careers. As I sat there in my prim sun dress, I realized just how much I didn't fit into this world of fast bikes and faster women, where everything was flashy and built for speed.
I stood up to leave, but just then a woman with fiery red hair and a skin-tight, black dress with red stiletto heels came up to me. "Miss Brandt, Mr. Colson will see you now."
"Thank you. Is he the photographer?" I asked casually as I trailed behind her down a richly-carpeted hallway.
"No. He's the owner and CEO of the company," the sexy redhead smirked at my naive ignorance, making me feel even more out of place.
"Oh. He'll be sitting in on the meeting?" I was genuinely surprised. I'd only ever worked on small jobs with just a photographer and once a director. Never had I worked with a CEO, especially for one of the country's biggest companies. My stomach began to squirm, and I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to squelch my nerves.
"No, he is the meeting. It will just be you and him. Mr. Colson is a very busy and powerful man, so try not to disappoint him."
The redhead opened a set of large, oak doors, and I found myself entering a vast office filled with expensive furnishings in an art-deco style, imported rugs lined the floors, and fine crystal lamps filled the room with light. A man was seated at the massive desk in the center of the room. I instantly blushed when I recognized him from being at the audition where I had humiliated myself.
He strode towards me with a welcoming smile shook my hand warmly. "Miss Brandt. It's a pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat."
He indicated a grouping of chairs and sofas at the east end of the suite, and I chose one, gasping with surprise as I sunk into the comfortable cushions. My host chuckled and sat in the chair closest to mine so our knees were nearly touching.
He was a very handsome man, with dark black hair cropped close to his head, chiseled features, and the most incredible steel gray eyes flecked with specks of gold and blue. As his eyes peered into mine, I felt as if they could penetrate my soul and see into the very heart of me. Quickly, I averted my eyes, staring down at my hands as if my cuticles had never been more fascinating.
"So, Miss Brandt, I have asked you here to discuss your audition from yesterday," he began, and I couldn't stop myself from interrupting him.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry."
"That I want to talk with you?"
"No, I'm very happy about that. It was such a relief when you called. I'm sorry about everything else. Sorry about my top coming off. I did not mean for that to happen. And, I'm really sorry about knocking over the motorcycle. Did I break it? I'm more than willing to pay for any damages I caused to it. Is that why I'm here? Do you need me to sign some legal papers accepting responsibility for it?"
"Settle down, Miss Brandt. The bike wasn't damaged. Speed Motorcycles are built to be tough. They can handle highway crashes at fast speeds, I'm certain they can survive being toppled over onto a carpeted stage while standing still. I didn't call you here personally to have you sign liability forms."
His humorous smirk lightened my tension and made me see how silly I was being. Instantly, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and smiled. "Okay, good. So, why did you ask me here?"
"I understand you want the job of being a model for next month's issue of Speed Magazine."
"Yes, me and about a thousand other girls," I giggled nervously. Why couldn't I stop my hands from fidgeting?
"Yes, that's true. We literally see thousands of women every year, all of them hoping for the chance to appear in pages of our magazine. After a while, they all start to look the same. I'll say one thing for your audition yesterday; you made it memorable." I wanted to apologize again, but he didn't give me chance and kept right on talking. "That's why I've selected you to be the model for the cover of next month's issue."
"The cover! Are you serious?" I had never been so happy or excited in my life. This was an incredible opportunity, and would launch my career as a professional model. Clasping my hands to keep them from shaking, I cried out happily, "I'd been hoping for something on one of the inside pages; I never dreamed I'd be considered for the cover."
"Yes, well it's a special honor, only 12 women a year ever get to have. There was a lot of debate in the boardroom over selecting a model with as little experience as you have, but I cast my vote for you personally."
"Thank you so much. I don't know how to thank you."
"Well, don't thank me yet. There is a catch. I'm going to need you to do something special for me first before I give you the job. Come with me. I'll have my assistant get a hanger for that dress. You won't want to get it wrinkled or dirty."
"What?" My heart dropped and all my joy drained away. "My boyfriend was right. You only want me for this job because you think I'm willing to take off my clothes for you — and God knows what else. Well, I'm not that kind of girl. I don't care if it costs me this job. I don't care if I never work as a model in L.A. ever again. I'm leaving, Mr. Colson."
"No, wait," he cut off my retreat with his ripped form, and I was more than intimidated as my heart thundered in my chest. If he wouldn't let me leave, I would fight him with everything I had. With trembling hands, I fumbled in my purse, pulled out my pepper spray and aimed the canister at him.
Chuckling good naturedly, Mr. Colson held up his hands in surrender and said gently, "You misunderstood. I don't expect you to strip for me, pose naked, or have sex with me or anybody else in this office. I do, however, intend to teach you how to ride a bike."
"What?" I was stunned and nearly dropped my pepper spray. "You want to teach me how to ride?"
"Yes. It's the kind of thing you can't fake in a photoshoot, so I need you to learn how to ride before I can give you the job. It will be fun and easy, and I'll even teach you myself."
"Why would you be willing to go through so much trouble just for me?"
"You have the all-American look I want for this cover. I don't want anybody else except you, but you'll have to learn how to ride first. The fact that our models truly enjoy riding motorcycles is what makes our magazine stand out among the competition. It's what makes the models who appear on it resonate with the public. So, do you want the riding lesson and job?"
"Yes!" I grinned joyously. This was a dream come true for me and my heart was bursting with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.
Mr. Colson went over the terms of the modeling contract with me, and it was incredible. Up until then, the most I'd ever made on a job was a thousand dollars. This was much, much more. I'd be featured in a story layout for the newest motorcycle they were debuting in the issue, and I'd appear on the cover. It was the most exposure I'd ever had as a model and sure to get me noticed in the industry. Many models that were now world-famous had gotten their start on the cover of Speed Magazine. It was an incredible opportunity, and the money was going to be a lifesaver for us. Now Mick and I would finally be able to have that wedding I'd always dreamed of and still have enough left over to rent a decent apartment and tuck away some money for later. It was a dream come true, and I was crying tears of happiness as I signed my name on the contract.
"Oh, look at me. I'm a mess." I blushed, dabbing at my eyes with a tissue after catching a glimpse of myself in the reflective surface of the chrome on his desk.
"Don't worry about it. The photoshoot isn't until next week. That gives us plenty of time to get you familiar with riding on a bike."
He called his assistant into the room and told her to fit me with some riding gear. I found out her name was Angela, and even though she smiled constantly, I got the impression she didn't like me very much. Perhaps she was one of the objectors who thought I didn't have enough experience. Oh, well. It didn't matter. Mr. Colson wanted me for the job, and now it was mine.
I'd never worn a riding jumpsuit before. I was surprised at how comfortable it felt, despite the extremely tight fit. The boots hugged my feet like they were made just for me, and so did the gloves. The helmet felt strangely snug, but I knew I'd get used to it.
"How do I look, Mr. Colson?" I smiled as I entered the massive garage in the basement of the building. It was filled with hundreds of motorcycles, all them looking shiny and new. He was standing next to a pair of matching bikes with an innovative new design that I correctly guessed must be the All-American. Both the bikes were comprised entirely of black leather, steel, and shiny chrome.
"You look like a pro already. Please, call me Ethan. It distracts from freedom of the open road if we're being so formal with each other, and I want you to get a proper sense of what it means to be a true biker."
"Okay, Ethan." The feeling of calling him by name made me flush, but I liked the sound of it. I liked it even better when he called me by mine.
"Okay then, Kayla. Hop on one, and I'll teach you everything you need to know about riding a motorcycle."
I chose the blue one and the lessons began. The garage was spacious enough that we could ride around in it, but after a short time, Ethan surprised me by saying, "Okay, you're doing great. Now, let's take it out on the open road."
"You're kidding." I thought he was being like Mick and teasing me with a lie, but he was dead serious. Feeling my stomach tie up in knots, I said, "But I've never even been on a bike before today."
"Well, you've mastered brakes, using your mirrors, safety, accelerating, and even turns. The only thing you need to learn now is the joy of riding, and that is best found out on the open road. Follow me. I won't go anywhere you can't keep up. You're safe with me."
As he said the words, I knew it was true. Ethan wasn't the kind of man who would push me too far or take me out of my capabilities. He'd been nothing but patient and encouraging during our lessons that afternoon, gently guiding me when I needed it and even giving me the courage to push myself to try things I never would have dared before. All the while, I knew he was looking after me and keeping me safe. He was a protector and a teacher, not a bully. I could trust him.
He rode out of the garage into the bright, afternoon light, and I followed behind him at an easy pace. Soon, he had guided me out onto a country road I never would have known was there, hidden against the hills behind the corporate offices and high-rises. The road sloped and turned, and when it came to a long straight away Ethan opened up the engine and took his bike up to high speeds.
I surged forward to catch up with him, gasping at the thrill the sudden acceleration caused me. It was exhilarating, freeing, and fun. He slowed down so I could catch up with him, and feeling playfully daring, I passed him. Now, I was in the lead, and it was up to him to follow me. It was so wonderful, like being a child at play again. It had been a long time since I'd had that feeling. Too long.
When we came to a large, open clearing with a large oak tree growing in the center, Ethan waved and gestured with his hand, indicating for me to pull over. I came to a slightly awkward halt under the tree, and Ethan pulled up beside me and took off his helmet. His hair was a mess, and he was grinning widely.
"You did great. How do you feel?"
"I think I've got the hang of this." I smiled. I had pulled my helmet off, too. I knew my hair was just as messy as his and I tried to smooth it with my hands, but that only made it worse.
"I think you're ready for the shoot next week. Let's take a rest before we head back."
He'd packed some bottled water and some trail mix in the container on the back of his bike, and I accepted some gratefully. We sat in the tall grass under the shade of the magnificent tree and just enjoyed the afternoon breeze through our hair and the sunshine on our faces.
"I finally understand why bikers like to ride so much. I always thought they were crazy. Why would anyone want to be exposed to the weather when they could be safe in the comfort of a car? Now I know, this is so much better. It's so freeing and fun."
"I'm glad I could make a convert out of you." Ethan's eyes danced as he grinned at me.
"Have you always been into motorcycles?" I asked and listened with interest as he told me about his years working for Kruger in the motorcycle parts division and how it slowly turned into a passion for bikes and riding.
"You must have been scared when you put your first motorcycle on the market. I mean, starting your own company like that and having it all depend on the success of that one bike; that's a lot of pressure," I said, feeling somewhat in awe of the courage it must have taken to leave a secure career and go for his dreams.
"I guess, but I didn't think of it that way when I was living it. You just follow your gut and take each moment as it comes. It must have been similar for you, leaving your hometown to come to L.A. to be a model."
"I guess it was. I didn't think about the consequences, at all. I just packed my suitcase, threw it in the back of my boyfriend's car, and off we went."
"So, you came here with a boyfriend? What happened to him, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Oh, we're still together. In fact, I'd better let him know what time I'll be getting back home to him. He never cooks his own dinner, and I bet the house is a mess. He'll want to know when I'll be back to take care of everything. How much longer will this lesson be?"
"I guess it's over. Let's go back." Ethan looked strange, like he was disappointed or angry. He kick-started his bike to life and rode off into the distance.
It was too bad. I had enjoyed spending time with him, talking and sharing our stories. He made me feel interesting, and I loved the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed. I hated for this moment to end, but I knew Mick really would be helpless without me. Sometimes I felt more like his mother and housekeeper than his girlfriend.
Bewildered by Ethan's sudden curtness, I followed him onto the country road and back to the Speed Motorcycles corporate offices. Even though something was clearly bothering him, he still held back enough on the throttle for me to follow him without feeling rushed or strained, and when I started to lose control of the bike going over the storm grate entering the garage, he was immediately concerned.
"Are you all right?" he pulled up to a stop beside me.
"Yes, I'm okay. I remembered the technique you taught me for regaining control."
"Good, I wouldn't want anything to happen to my new cover model." He was staring into my eyes, and I got the impression I meant a lot more to him than that, although I didn't see how that was possible. We hardly knew each other. I'd been in a relationship with Mick for five years, and he wasn't that concerned with my wellbeing, so why would this man who was practically a stranger care so much about me?
We parked our bikes, and his assistant guided me back to the changing room to return the riding suit and put my regular clothes back on. When I came out, I disappointed that I never got a chance to say goodbye to Ethan. Somehow, I had half expected to see him waiting for me by the exit, but I don't know why he would be. He was an important CEO and owner of the biggest motorcycle company in the country, and I was nothing more than a struggling model.
Still, something told me that I would see him again before the shoot, and what surprised me most of all was how much I hoped it would be soon.