brings another smile to my face. I start to walk to my place, but a cold hand grips me and holds me back with a tug. I don’t even look toward my mother again. I’m afraid of whatever she’s going to say but even more afraid of what she’ll see in my response.
“You’re one walk away from having it all, my dear. Don’t screw it up like I did.” Her tone is like ice slicing through my psyche. If she only knew.
By the end of tonight, she will.
“And… go.”
With a gentle push from the producer, I take my first step, teeter slightly, then right myself onto my needle-thin heels. I stopped thinking of my every move on the runway years ago. Now the technique of the walk comes naturally.
The music has just changed for the closing number. It’s a heavy dance beat that works perfectly with the crescendo of the night. Forty minutes is a long show, and these people are ready to see what they came for: Gabriele’s signature design from his fall wedding collection. It’s spring now, but this piece is the one all second-hand designers are going to try to mimic, overproduce, and sell in their shops this fall. And I’m the first one who gets to wear it.
My cheekbones are high and strong. The upward curve of my lips hint at my love for the catwalk, the lights, and the attention. My eyes are focused straight ahead, never straying from the lens of the camera aimed right at me.
The camera loves me. The people gasp for me. And the lights shine for me. But it just doesn’t feel right anymore.
Years of training betray me in the next moment as my eyes flick left to where I know my future is sitting. Regis Malone watches me. He’s the producer of a new soap opera titled Pacific Moon, set to start taping in LA six months from now. He’s looking for a fresh face like mine—at least that’s what he told me when we met at a bar in LA before I hopped on a plane to New York for this show. It’s the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, and the timing could not be better.
“An amateur to the screen, with the confidence of a trained actor and the passion to want it all,” he’d said as he shut the billfold and stood from his chair. He was a stout man with a booming voice, and wide, prideful eyes. And as he looked down at me, it was clear that he was well-aware of his accomplishments and the power he held. He loved my look, my attitude, my walk, and my natural, but subtle, Southern drawl. He was offering me my first true chance to leave the modeling world behind.
So I invited him to my show in New York to seal the deal, to show him what I do best and what I’m willing to give up for a chance at something new. This isn’t my first attempt to break away from modeling. I’ve been hungry to leave—desperate for it—for years. And acting will give me the opportunity to do just that. After countless secret auditions, and just as many rejections, I haven’t given up hope.
But tonight, I can taste opportunity fresh on my tongue like sweet victory. My insides feel electrified with everything to come. It’s all unfolding just as I planned.
My walk is perfection. I can feel it in my timing as my steps hit the runway on a steady, midtempo beat. My lips are tugged up just slightly at the corners, a trick my mother taught me to give my resting bitch face a much-needed lift.
I hit the end of the runway and release the one smile I’m allowed. All designers have their own rules for their catwalk, and the one-smile rule is Gabriele’s. My eyes connect with Regis’s, and I grow giddy inside as he nods his approval like it’s a secret message to me. I’m one step closer to my endgame.
I’m so caught up in my daydream that I miss the timing of my pivot. When I speed up my next step to recover my pacing, one of my heels catches in a flowy section of my skirt.
Dread locks up my entire body as I teeter forward off my spike heels with more force than I can manage. Suddenly, there’s too much air beneath my shoes and zero chances of saving myself.
It’s a short one-foot drop off the stage, but it all happens