The Big Apple
We got out of the limo and as soon as my foot hit the ground, cameras were surrounding us. People were snapping shots of Paris left and right and by the time I reached her, more pap’s had came.
I groaned and Paris smiled up at me. “I’m starting to get annoyed by them. Everywhere we go” I mumbled in between clenched teeth. She kissed my jaw and I looked down at her.
“If I remember correctly, you said ‘I can handle a bunch of guys with cameras’. Seems like you lied to me again,” she teased. I glared at her and pulled her towards me. She giggled and tried to get away but I had a firm grip on her.
“Tonight’s not about you right?” I asked, kissing her neck. She nodded and ran her hand through my hair. “Then that means a lot of people won’t be…uh, keeping their eye on you right?” I asked, hoping she would piece together the rest.
She smirked at me and quickly pulled away, skipping toward the entrance. “I guess you’ll just have to find out” she replied huskily. I smirked back as she walked off with Liz to go speak with Mrs. Cruise.
I sighed. Now what do I do? I walked around the area for a little bit and looked at some of the photos that were hanging on the walls. One of them caught my eye. A tall tan girl in a long beautiful dress seemed to be staring at me through the photo. She had brown curly hair and seemed to be on Puerto Rican descent. Her eyes were a deep pool of hazel and her face was showing fierce emotion. It was obvious this girl was a natural model.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” I turned around and almost screamed when I saw who was talking to me. Damein Jenkins. The Damien Jenkins. He had on a black Dior suit and his blonde hair was slicked back. His blue eyes sparkled and he had this essence about him that made people want to stare.
“D-D-Damein Jenkins?” I stuttered nervously. He smirked. “Andie Fluharty” he countered. Wow. Damien Jenkins knows my name. “Um…yeah that’s me. I was just looking around and came across this picture. She really is beautiful. Which model is she?” I asked, trying to keep my cool.
He smiled. “That, is Sarah Stone” he replied proudly. I arched my brows. “Who?” I asked in confusion. His left eye twitched and both of them widened. “You don’t know who this is?” he asked, waving his hand over the picture.
“Well, the name rings a bell but I still kind of don’t know who that is” I replied, putting my hands in my pocket. He dropped his jaw in shock. “She is only the most beautiful model in the runway business. She is practically the runway queen! The new cover model her Golde Magazine, Sarah Stone!” he exclaimed.
I stood there for a second and then realization hit me. “Oh! Sarah Stone! The cover model! I’m sorry. Paris and Liz were just talking about her a few hours again and I completely forgot,” I said, placing my hand through my hair.
He smiled. “Paris Beaunet huh? Let me ask you a question. How did you get the beauty to fall head over heels for you?” he asked, crossing his arms. Who the hell is the beauty? “I’m sorry. Who?” I asked in confusion.
He chuckled and shook his head. “You really don’t know much about your girlfriend’s job, do you? Paris’s nickname in the fashion world is ‘the Beauty’. While Sarah’s nickname is ‘the Face’” he replied.
I tried not to laugh but I really couldn’t help myself. “Why do they call her the face?” I said laughing. “Her facial features are stunning. As you can see in the picture,” he said, motioning over to the photo behind us.
I nodded. “Well, to answer your question. I didn’t do anything. I guess you could say, fate brought us together,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. He arched his brow. “You’re a very interesting couple. Although I announced my engagement publically, the only thing anyone seems to care about…is you” he said seriously.
I gulped and stepped back a little. “I never meant to take anybody’s spot light, trust me. If I could, I would give it all to you. I hate being in the public eye just as much as I hate being here right now. But…this is what Paris loves. She likes things like this and sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do” I sighed.
Damien looked around and saw people heading inside. “That may be true. But can you really handle everything with her. I mean, her living on the streets and her abusive mother. Isn’t that a lot to take in?” he asked in concern. My eyes widened and I grabbed his arm. “Wait. What?” I said in shock.
He arched her eyebrows and stared down at me. “You mean…you don’t know. How could you not know?” he asked, pulling me over to a corner. “I never cared to ask. Now what are you talking about? Paris lived on the street? Her mother abused her? I thought she only had one parent,” I said, trying to make sense of what he was telling me.
“No. Her father raised her when her parents divorced. But he died when she was 7. She went to live with her mother but the woman had a terrible drug problem and used to beat on the poor girl day and night. She ran away from home when she was 16 and lived on the street for a whole month. Liz found her and took her in. What did you expect?” he asked, walking toward the entrance.
I was frozen in that spot. It felt like time had stopped to me. Paris’s father’s death I knew about, but…the abuse; her being homeless for a month? Living on the streets of LA was dangerous. How did you survive for a whole month? I don’t know how long I stood outside but I felt someone shaking me and I looked down to see Paris staring at me.
“Hey, what’s wrong? I called you but you didn’t pick up. Come on. The show is starting,” she said, taking my hand and smiling at me. How can she even smile? How can she act so carefree after the life she has had?
Without realizing it, I pulled her into a hug and held her tight against me. “A-Andie. What are you doing?” she asked, laughing gently. I kissed the top of her head and just held her tighter. “No one is ever going to hurt you again,” I said seriously.
I felt her stiffen but she didn’t say a word. I slowly let her go and she frowned before slowly walking back inside. I watched her go and then pulled her towards me again when she got to the door, stealing a kiss from her. She kissed me back and rested her head against my shoulder.
“You don’t have to force yourself to tell me. Just know…that I do want to know. And when you decide to tell me, I’ll listen to every word you have to say” I whispered to her. She nodded and pulled me closer to kiss her again. I took her hand and we both walked back inside the building.
I saw Damien out the corner of my eye as everyone talked and ate at the after party for the runway show. Liz was off somewhere with Mrs. Cruise, chatting to some editors and I was standing beside Paris as she talked to some amateur models who, I guess, looked up to her. Every now and then she would squeeze my hand as to wake me up and I would squeeze her’s back.
“Paris! How nice of you to come to the show!” someone from behind us said. I turned around to see a woman around her 50′s who had a very bad Botox injection and gray hair with streaks of red in it. Paris smiled fakely at her and I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing.
“Amanda Bridgewell; Editor and Chief of Golde Magazine. So very nice to see you!” she said, squeezing my hand repeatedly; a sign that she wanted to get out of here. Mrs. Bridgewell moved in her a hug and Paris frowned before moving in to hug her.
“So, did you enjoy the show?” she asked, as if I wasn’t even here. “Yes. We did. Didn’t we, sweetie?” she replied, innocently. Sweetie? Who the hell was she trying to fool? I smiled and nodded over at Mrs. Bridgewell.
She glared at me and I arched my eyebrows at her. Ok. Fuck you too bitch. “Paris!” someone shrieked. We turned around once again and I came face to face with the model that was on the picture Damien and I had discussed.
“Sarah Stone! I loved the performance!” Paris exclaimed in genuinely. Sarah smiled. “Thank you. I try. Although it’s very hard when I have someone like you as my rival”. Rival? What rival? I thought they liked it each other.
Damien looked over at me and I looked at the ground. “Oh! I almost forgot. Paris, I want you to meet Damien Jenkins, my fiancée” she said, motioning toward Damien. They exchanged greetings and Paris smiled at me. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Andie. She’s a huge fan of your’s” she teased.
I glared at her and she stuck out her tongue at me. “Andie? Andie Fluharty? So you’re the one whose been causing all the trouble up in Hollywood? I don’t know why but America seems to love you…well, you and ‘Pandie’ of course,” she said, smiling at me.
I smiled back. “I don’t know why. I’m just a regular person,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Exactly. It’s a total Cinderella story. A regular girl meets and falls in love with a rise-to-fame cover model. I mean, these things practically write themselves. Entertainment television is having a ball broadcasting about you two,” she said breathlessly.
Mrs. Bridgewell frowned. “The question is why, my dear. Why are you so interesting Andrea? Is it your eyes? Your hair? The way you dress? The way you talk? Your personality? Your walk? What makes you so news worthy?” she asked, looking at me up and down in disgust.
I smirked at her. “It’s not me. It’s her,” I said, nodding over at Paris. She smiled at me. “It’s all her” I added. Mrs. Bridgewell scoffed and marched away to go piss off somebody else. I was more than happy to see her walk away.
“Don’t mind her Andie. She isn’t very fond of lesbians and looks down on people who she thinks are less than her. She’s an incredible boss, but a horrible person,” Sarah said sourly. Damien chuckled and leaned down to whisper something in her ear, which made her laugh as well.
Paris squeezed my hand and I looked down at her. She was nodding her head towards the door and I could tell she wanted to leave. “Well, it was nice meeting you both but I have to take ‘the Beauty’ back home. Good night” I said, walking toward the exit with Paris beside me.
“Good night” they called from behind us. I sighed and opened the door, taking in the fresh air. “How do you put up with all of that?” I asked, leaning against the wall. She frowned. “Was born into it, I guess. That woman, Mrs. Bridgewell, she worked with my…mother. I’ve hated her since I was a child” she replied angrily.
I frowned and opened up my arms. She walked into them and sighed contently. “Please get Liz and take me home” she mumbled against my shoulder. “Okay” I said. Right when I was about to go back inside, Liz and Mrs. Cruise come running out. “Get in the limo! Quick!” Liz yelled.
We hopped in the limo and the driver took off onto the road. I turned around and saw a very angry Mrs. Bridgewell, covered in cake, glaring and screaming after us. Liz and Mrs. Cruise were laughing like teenagers in the seat in front of us.
“What did you do?” Paris asked smiling. “Liz accidently bumped into her and poured her drink on her. Then when she started bitching about how much her dress cost, she walked right into the cake that I was eating, ruining her dress more” Mrs. Cruise replied with tears running down her cheeks.
They laughed even harder and for no apparent reason, I joined in with them. I don’t even know the woman that well but if Paris hated her, I hated her all the more.
“Come to New York with me.”
“Please Andie. I want you to come with me.”
“I just did…a few moments ago.”
“Come on, Andie. I’m being serious. Liz has another photo shoot planned for me in New York but…I don’t wanna be away from you and I know that you don’t wanna be away from me either.”
“Hmmm. ’Tis very true. I did miss you a lot when you were gone, plus all that shit happened with Pete.”
“Which is just a bigger sign that you need to come to New York with me. Bad things happen to you when we’re apart.”
“…Is that the best you can think of?”
“Yes! Please…I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Uh, perv. Not like that.”
“How am I a perv? Who attacked who tonight cause I’m sure you attacked me as soon as I locked the door.”
“Alright, alright. Like I could say ‘no’ anyway. Sure. I’ll go with you. I just gotta tell Davey so that he won’t freak out."
“He won’t. You know how he is. He’ll probably just stay over Katie’s house. He’s never even here anymore.”
“True. I do miss my best friend though.”
“Andie, you see him everyday.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Okay, okay. As long as you’ll go with me.”
“Cross your heart?”
“How old are we?”
“I’m older than you and I said ‘cross your heart’.”
“Damn it! I can’t wait until my birthday.”
“When is your birthday?”
“I’ll have to remember to get you something special. Cross your heart!”
“Very. Now let’s go to bed. Good night sweetie.”
“Ugh! Don’t call me that.”
“You know you love it.”
I hate planes. I hate getting on planes. I hate waiting for the plane to come. I hate the seats on the plane. I hate the food on the plane. I hate the turbulence the plane hits. And right now, I even hate Paris for making me get on this plane.
I was held on tightly to the armrest and Paris laughed at me. “If you were scared of flying why didn’t you just tell me?” she asked. “Because I’m not” I replied, glaring at her. She chuckled to herself and put her sunglasses back on.
I looked at the magazines in the back of the seat in front of me and saw “Golde Magazine” in big letters. In curiosity, I pulled out the magazine and sure enough, Sarah was on the cover.
Paris looked over at me and scoffed. “So, do they have a better Paris over there?” she mocked. I smiled and she looked out the window. “Awww come on. She is pretty. You can’t deny that” I teased. She flipped me off and I laughed.
I looked through the pages of the magazine and frowned when I noticed most of the things in the magazine were too cliché. I guess I was too used to reading Platinum. I wasn’t very interested on anything that Golde had to offer.
I put the magazine back and picked up the Platinum one behind it. I was meant with Paris’s smiling face and I smiled back. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll always chose you Paris,” I whispered to her.
She looked over at me and laughed when she saw the magazine in my hands. She cupped my face and deepened the kiss. “I’ll always chose you too Andie” she whispered against my lips.
The pilot said something over the intercom but I was too engrossed in Paris to care. She leaned back and smiled before putting her seatbelt on. “We’re landing. Come on, put your seatbelt on” she said like I was a child.
I frowned at her and slowly put my seatbelt on, kissing her cheek when she wasn’t looking. She took my hand and smiled at me. Hopefully this trip to New York would be worth the plane ride from hell.
“Don’t get lost, okay? I’ll be back around 3pm” Paris said, grabbing her purse and running around the hotel room. We had been in New York for three days. I was enjoying our alone time together, going out to Broadway shows and walking Time Square. But Paris still had a job to do and today was her photo shoot.
I rolled over in the bed and looked at her. “I’ve been to New York City before remember? And I’m not a child. Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean anything,” I mumbled. She smirked and straddled me on the bed.
“Yes it does,” she teased, leaning down to kiss me. I smiled into the kiss and when I tried to deepen it, she closed her mouth and crawled off of me. I groaned and I heard her laughing. “Tease.”
“You know it. Now, I’ll see you later. Don’t get into any trouble,” she yelled, before closing the door to the hotel. I laid flat on my back against the bed and sighed. Why is it every time she leaves I don’t have anything to do? Guess I’ll go for a walk.
I got up and put on some jeans and a black and white striped hoodie with my black beanie. It was getting close to October and it was starting to get cold out. I pulled on my shoes and grabbed the hotel room keycard before leaving the room.
I walked out the hotel and watched as the people around me rushed to get where they were going and were only looking out for themselves. Pssh! Bunch of pricks. I walked down the street and took a taxi to Time Square.
I paid the taxi driver and looked up at the Broadway sign. Paris and I had been here just last night, checking out the last showing of ‘Wicked’. Looks like something new was coming up. ‘Hairspray’ or whatever it was called. It looked like some 1960′s poster so obviously the story would be placed in the 60′s. Being a film major helps you figure some things out.
“Excuse me? But do you know when the last showing of ‘Wicked’ is. My daughter wants to see it and I don’t have the tickets,” said the shy woman next to me.
“I’m sorry but the last showing was last night” I said softly. She sighed and picked up her daughter. “Sorry baby but the last show was yesterday,” she said sadly. The little girl took her thumb out her mouth and pouted.
The woman smiled sweetly at her and kissed her forehead. “I’m sure we’ll see it again Andrea” she said. My eyes widened and I looked over at her. Sure. Millions of people in the world have the name Andrea. So why am I freaking out? No, it’s just the way she said the name Andrea.
“A-Ashley?” I stuttered nervously. She looked up at me and her eyes widened when she got a good look at me. “Andie?” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. Andrea looked back and forth between her mother and I as we stood there in total shock.
I mean, it’s not everyday that you met the first person you ever loved and her daughter, named after you, in New York City.