π£πΏπΌπΉπΌπ΄ππ²
Paris Fashion Week β Saint Laurent
Backstage of the TrocadΓ©ro β there was a concrete space with multiple vanity stations and clothing racks to the side of it.
Sable's station was at the top right end in the first row. In hand was a TresemmΓ© spray as she spritzes it on her long, dark, glossy hair that had freshly been curled.
In her reflection, her warm brown skin was glistening with oil, her eyeshadow a soft smokey brown with falsie lashes, and a nude pink lip gloss.
Her eyes wandered in the background, watching girls doing their hair, makeup, and getting into their outfits, waiting for their turn to be called up by the producers. People were running left and right, making sure they didn't miss their cue. Sable softly grinned at the scene, watching everyone simultaneously in motion in their own flow.
She couldn't help but smile thinking back to how just two years ago she was stressing with her father over bills and rent. And now she's one of the top models in the country.
In the corner of her eye, in the distance, she saw a long brown-haired girl in a white satin robe with her eyes locked on her. Once the figure stepped closer, it was the model Alissa Crowe walking toward her.
Sable darted her eyes back to the mirror, staring at her reflection, holding her breath β ready to embrace the impact of a woman scorned like Alissa.
Especially after what she did.
"I hope you're happy now, Sable Brooks. You got what you wanted from me," Alissa blurted the moment she got close, but not too loud to alarm the others.
Sable placed the spray down, shifting a bit to her right. "What are you talking about?" Sable asked, raising a brow.
"Don't play fucking dumb with me." Alissa scrunched her face.
"You knew about my new contract with Cartier β a brand that I dreamed of working with β and told them something I confided in you about, because I thought you were a close friend," she continued, her voice getting higher and sharper with every syllable.
Sable kept her gaze on Alissa, tilting her head slightly.
Maybe that was Alissa's issue β thinking Sable could ever be her true friend.
She let Alissa ramble on. The models around Sable's area would take small glances at the confrontation.
"Now today's my last day with the agency because they're suspecting me of drug use, and nobody else here knew about my meds but you." Her voice cracked, eyes swelling with tears.
A smirk rushed to Sable's lips.
Took long enough.
"Sable!" a voice called out.
Alissa and Sable's attention snapped toward the man signaling Sable over.
Sable took a deep breath as she got down from her chair. "Listen, that's all very unfortunate for you. However, now I really have to get going." She started untying her white robe.
The robe glided down, revealing a classic Saint Laurent satin slip gown with a sheer black lace skirt, a deep V-neckline, and a structured satin bodice.
"Unbelievable," Alissa scoffed, rolling her eyes, walking back to her station, while Sable got in line to go past the white curtains.
But even standing there, her mind replayed what Alissa told her. But to her, the logical answer was clear.
In this industry, it's either get pushed around or you take what you want.
