We were outside on the red carpet when Bruno placed his arm around my waist. He tilted his head closer to my face as we posed for the camera.
“And so my wildflower becomes the rose,” he whispered close to my ear. I didn’t know if that statement held any actual value. Even as my feet glided across the plush red carpet of the Gala Fashion for a Cause, I was not sure what I had done to deserve this sudden attention. A sea of men in black suits rolled out in front of us, and hundreds of lights flashed sporadically, setting off this seizure-like episode inside me. I realized that this person standing there was not even me. The real me would be at home, watching this on TV in her fuzzy sock slippers, eating a container of ice cream.
After Bruno had placed me at the front of the line a year ago, he had chosen me to represent his designer label, Ortiz. I was his ambassador for most of his perfume ads. I guess you can say I became more than his muse, and I appreciated the camaraderie between us. This industry had brought amazing people into my life, yet, on the flip side, it had also brought more insecurities. Looking in, it was so easy to be seduced by the glitz and glamour, but when you got behind it, you’d be surprised by what you’d find.
The other day I had been in a cab driving through Times Square when it stopped at a red light. I looked out the window, and there she was in print, in the process of being plastered on the side of a building. It was on a big billboard where millions of people would see it for weeks at a time. For most struggling models, this would mean you had arrived. I should have been mad with excitement, but all I remember was feeling sick to my stomach because—there I was, put on the highest shelf, and it could only mean one thing … unnecessary and hateful criticism that would range across everything, from my hair to my weight—or the fact that I was hard of hearing. Because who could imagine someone like me would get this far? I was tormented by adults all the time, and it baffled me. Did people think I didn’t read the comments? Didn’t they realize that I was human too?
Flash, flash, flash.
Up top …
Mable, over here …
Flash, flash, flash.
Like the riddle of the tree that falls in the forest, did I exist if I didn’t have the public’s attention? Fame was a privilege that could be taken away. I was a realist; I knew at some point this would end and they would stop hiring me for not being young and beautiful. And then what?
“I think I will never get used to the attention,” I said to Bruno as we moved on to the next row of photographers.
“Well, darling, it’s either you’re somebody or nobody … you’re somebody, so use this to your advantage.”
This success wasn’t overnight, but progressive. I’d sought fame out—I wanted it—but it wasn’t what I imagined it would be. The lights were attractive, but get close enough and you’d be scrutinized by them.
“When you’ve been around a long time like me in this business, you get to meet lots of people. I think modeling is fun for the first couple of years. You fly around and get to wear designer clothing. If you’re good at what you’re doing, then eventually you get to be overpaid to do so little. But at some point reality sets in, because nothing is what it seems in this business. Be smart about it; find your purpose besides modeling. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Bruno winked at me.
I loved our chats, and Bruno’s advice had already been put to use. I’d been working on other things that were more fulfilling. I intended on keeping my identity rooted. They will see me bend, but I won’t break … only focus on what’s important; then maybe I have a chance for survival under the lights.
After the photo calls were the interviews, and the past few weeks I’d done tons of them. I understood it was part of the game; the only thing was that they all appeared to ask the same irrelevant questions.
What would be the best piece in your wardrobe?
Does the world care?
What outfit do you regret wearing?
Really?
What do you wear to bed?
Nothing, except Chanel No. 5 … kidding. I didn’t say that Marilyn had.
Was this what the world wanted to know? What was inside my purse? Thankfully, tonight it was not about me; it was about raising money and awareness for a cause I held close to my heart. And, like Bruno had said, I had to use this attention and gear it into something relevant. My newfound fame would allow me to talk about things of high value that should matter in the spotlight. That was something I’d been working on.
I made it up the stairs to the extended platform where Christopher Leon waited for me to be interviewed. He spoke to most of the guests before they went inside the reception area. Christopher was the editor at large for Blind Item magazine. He had been a permanent fixture on the front row of every fashion show in the past twenty years. This was the sixth time we’d met on the red carpet.
“Look at you.” We kissed hello on each cheek. I knew the camera was rolling and this would be shown on Entertainment Weekly.
“What a magnificent dress. Who are you wearing?”
“This gown was designed by my dear friend Bruno Ortiz,” I said, adjusting the fabric. The garment had a high slit and rolls of feathers all sewn at the base of the dress.
“Beautiful! And those shoes.”
“Thank you,” I said, as if I’d made or bought them.
“Is the dress comfortable? Because it doesn’t look like it,” Christopher asked.
“Very much so; it appears deceptively heavy, but it’s quite light and easy to maneuver.”
“Yes, I’ve been watching you from up here, moving around with such grace and elegance. Well, you look gorgeous. You own it.”
“Thank you.” I felt uncomfortable with the compliments, but this was work.
“Okay, so now I want to talk about—you.”
“All right.” I smiled. This should be good.
“You are the first model to be hard of hearing to grace any magazine cover. How does that make you feel? What kind of message do you want to send out to the girls who want to follow in your footsteps?”
“Am I the first? I guess it’s about time.” I smiled. “Well, I talk funny; maybe some people think I’m not the ideal model, but here I am, I don’t view myself as being different—this is me. I want the girls out there to feel beautiful no matter what the world pressures them to be. I wish for them to embrace their differences … because that’s what makes us unique and we shouldn’t have a limitation on our dreams just because they don’t fit into the norm … mold the norm so that it fits you,” I said.
“You’re also a global ambassador for Humanity Matters Worldwide, and you work in close collaboration with organizations that promote gender equality and the empowerment of women … Woo, that’s a lot to swallow! You’ve been busy, Miss Harper.” He looked up from his cue card.
“Yes, modeling had given me a voice, and I intend to use it.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to what you’re going to do next. Enjoy. Have fun tonight.”
And the camera cut off. I came back down and found Bruno at the bottom of the steps waiting for me.
“Bruno … who is that woman with the dark sunglasses?” I recognized her, but I didn’t know what she did or what her name was. We had crossed paths before but never actually talked. It almost felt like she was trying to avoid me, and I wondered why.
“My dear, you don’t know who Elaine Furstenberg is?” Bruno looked at me like I had two heads.
“No,” I said as he laughed at my confused stare.
“The editor-in-chief of Elite and the artistic director for Most magazine. How is it you’ve been in this industry this long without meeting her?”
“I guess … I never got the opportunity.”
“You were never introduced?”
“No, never.”
“Well, in all fairness, she is a difficult person to come by. I will have to present her to you later.”
The night that had ended with us discovering Simon’s car marked with graffiti had stirred some uncertainty in me. I trusted him, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake off that feeling. What if I was wrong?
When I suggested we call the cops, Simon was too eager to brush it off as probably some jerk fooling around. He said there would be no point—they wouldn’t find them anyhow. That night we went back to my place, and he was quiet for the rest of the evening. That was what had me thinking his behavior was off. If it was some random jerk playing with spray paint, why would they choose those words? Maybe I was overthinking it, but perhaps I wasn’t.
Tonight we could have made our first appearance as a couple, but we had both agreed that our work and personal life should be kept separate. We didn’t need the paparazzi to distort our relationship into something ugly and dramatic like they usually did. But inside the gala, no paparazzi were allowed past the red carpet, and guests posting on social media had been prohibited. I guessed we could have been seen together inside, in a platonic nature. But I hadn’t seen him all day. I imagined that, like me, he had been pulled right, left, and center. When I got away from the entourage, I went out into the hotel lobby and searched my phone for any missed messages, disappointed there were none.
I looked up when I felt like I was being watched.
“Hello.” I smiled at the bright eyes that caught mine. I almost didn’t recognize Simon with his hair so short. So unexpected.
“You look hot,” he said.
“Hot?” I frowned. “Please don’t let that be your best pickup line. You will say something more substantial if you’re trying to win my attention, sir.”
“Huh, alright … you’re incredibly smart.” He continued to walk toward me.
“Hmm … keep it coming.” I bobbed my head from side to side.
“And beautiful.”
I sighed and moved around him. “Nice try, but your time is up.”
“Hold on, I’m not done yet.”
“Oh, I think we are.”
“You want to know what I thought when I first saw you?”
I turned. If he was trying to get my attention, he had finally piqued it.
“That I was the most incredible woman you’d ever seen.” I smiled.
“Yes, but there’s more.” He smiled, placing his hands in his suit pockets. “I told myself if I could get within three feet from you, then I’ll know.”
“Know what?”
“That you’re just right … that there was something legitimate about you. Back at the Little Orange, you thought you made a bad impression because you talked funny, but that’s not why I reacted the way I did. It’s because I saw you with the most accurate eyes … I felt this wanting … this knowing that I would desire nothing more in life than I did you.” He was being emotional. “I knew you were the kind of person to make me feel like the world is my oyster.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Bloody oath, I mean every word.” He got close, dangerously close. I could almost taste his breath.
“I should warn you, I’m unavailable.” I glanced around to see if we were within anyone’s eyesight.
“It’s no surprise, lucky fellow … but it makes no difference to me.”
I laughed. “It should. He’s a big guy.”
“Let him come. I’m not afraid.” His eyes shone like the light, and I couldn’t help but be turned on by it.
“Yes, you should, and he won’t be happy if he sees me speaking to you.” I looked at him through my eyelashes.
“I’ll take my chances.” His eyes trailed down to my lips. “I really want to be alone with you.” His voice came out huskily, making my cheeks burn.
“Are you trying to get me into trouble?”
“Would it be wrong if I said I did?” He flashed a coy smile. “Forget about him. Meet me upstairs on the rooftop in five minutes … That is, if you’re feeling a little adventurous.”
“What if someone should see us together?”
“Let them.” He turned and left me, and I watched him disappear around the corner before I followed. I found him waiting for me inside the elevator, and I took my place beside him. Quietly we stood there, without touching or even looking at each other. Only when the doors opened did I allow him to walk out first, but I didn’t get far before he dragged me into his arms and kissed me like there might be no tomorrow.
“We probably shouldn’t be doing this here.” I smiled between kisses.
“You’re right, but how am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you’re near? I can’t wait to get home and get you out of this fucking thing.” He tried to maneuver around my long train, but somehow part of my dress kept getting in the way. I laughed at his transgression. Then my hands went to his freshly cut hair.
“Is this the surprise you texted me about? You cut off your locks.” His hair seemed darker now that it was short.
“I thought it was time for a change. You don’t like it?” He searched my face.
“I do. It’s just different.” I smiled. The wind picked up, and I realized we were standing outside. This high up, the view of the city was always beautiful, especially at night. It almost felt magical.
“I thought tonight would be easy, but I’m having a hard time,” Simon pulled out his pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his tuxedo.
“With what?”
“Not having you by my side. At least that would have kept the vultures away.”
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” My smile widened.
“Damn right. I don’t want some bonehead near my girl.” He fished out a cigarette and lit it.
“Jason was just saying hello,” I reassured him. I appreciated that Simon wasn’t possessive. He has his insecurities, sure, like I did, but he was always in check with his emotions and never would act out unless he was forced.
“His hand on your lower back had me concerned.” He knitted his brows together.
“You’re cute, you know that? But you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m yours,” I said, and his smile widened, like I’d shown him a magic trick.
“I like it that you’re mine.” Simon grabbed my hand and pulled me closer.
“We’ve got to get back,” I whispered. “They’re going to serve dinner.”
“Let them wait.”
“No, we can’t. The guests paid thirty-three thousand a ticket for me to sit at their table. We need this money to drill boreholes in villages.”
Simon cast an adoring look over me.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“How lucky I am. To have met someone who feels equally passionate about the things I do.” He kissed me.
Simon and Amanie had opened my eyes to things I didn’t realize were happening in the world. They sparked this fire—inspired me to want to make a change. I’d signed up for Humanity Matters, and they were sending me on a learning mission in a few months. When they first asked me, there was no hesitation; I was on board. I would need to experience firsthand and see with my own eyes what was going on. So I had made sure Amanie was not to book me with any new projects. I was going to Rwanda, or maybe somewhere in India, but one thing was for sure: I wanted to be a strong advocate, bring light to the issues that girls living in poverty faced every day.
“This is a good sacrifice on your part not to have me by your side tonight,” I mused.
“Who’s sitting at your table?”
“Who’s sitting at yours?” I mimicked his tone, and he laughed.
“I asked you first.”
“Oh, I don’t know, we’ll soon find out.” I cast my eyes away from his. I knew Julian Gaspard was the one who’d paid for the whole table. Simon won’t be happy, but we’ll get through tonight somehow. I kissed him and turned to go back down.
“Mable.”
“Yes, darling.”
“We’re going together—to the after-party.” He didn’t ask; he demanded.
“I thought …”
“I had a change of heart. I want you by my side.”
I’d thought he would never ask.