A Chance At Fame

I've always been so sure that I was born to be a fashionista. My friend Laura thinks so as well. But I'm not sure even she can pick me up from the biggest fall of my life... Maybe one simple phone call can, though. (Complete.)

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3. Call Me If You Must

A sing-song ringing flooded my ears as I entered out flat. I took me several seconds to realise that the phone was ringing. Dumping my bag by the door, I reached to pick it up.

"Hello?" I said.

"This is Universal Fashions," said a bubbly voice from the other side, "are you one of the auditionees that didn't qualify?"

"What's this about?"

"Just answer the question," she said, beginning to sound agitated.

"Yes, I am."

"Please come to the studio," and then she put the phone down. However, I wasn't bothered in the least by her abrupt departure form the conversation-I had an appointment to get to! A smile took over my face as I turned to Laura.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

"I don't know, but we have to get to that studio!" I shouted over my shoulder as I scooped my bag onto one arm. Laura looked at me, concerned by my abrupt change in behaviour, but followed me nonetheless.

 

Sounds of rushing cars and shop doors opening and closing accompanied us as we strolled along, enjoying the only recently sunny weather. It was early afternoon-snack truck time. We were surrounded by brightly-coloured trucks, with awnings to cover their hatches. My gaze washed over the piles of hot dogs, donuts, chips, and all manner of junk food-unfortunately, not part of a model's diet.

"Just a minute," Laura grinned, holding up her hand and rushing over to the donut truck, purse in hand. I rolled my eyes. It certainly was part of her diet! Moments later she came back with a mouth full of donut, and a greasy-looking paper bag clutched in between her manicured nails.

"Let's go," I pointed to the banner that read 'Universal Fashions' in elegantly looped letters, and started towards it.

 

"Name please," said the man at the entrance, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Felicia Hale..." I replied.

"Go straight ahead and take a seat," he instructed. But, when as I reached the door, I heard him speak again.

"Woah, woah! You can't go in!" Laura stood there, looking helplessly down at the guard's firm hand resting on her shoulder.

"But, but," she stuttered.

"Nope. If you're not on the list, you're not allowed in," she gave me a defeated look as he finished his sentence.

"Sorry, Felicia. I hope you do well," and then I walked into the studio, gathering every ounce of courage I had.

 

Three chairs were the only items in the room except for the various wires and pieces of equipment piled up in one corner of the stage. Two of the chairs were already occupied; one by a tall red-head (it had to be her legs), and the other by a petite brunette with her hair pulled into a bun. The former turned and flashed me a competitive smile, her green eyes twinkling with intention. As soon as she had looked my way, she turned back. A hinge creaked and a tall figure in beige suit strolled in.

"Aaah. Welcome, girls. I'm Edward Uneday, the founder of 'Universal Fashions'," the suited figure greeted us one-by-one, shaking our hands eagerly. "Please, sit down," he gestured to the only vacant chair. With unseen reluctance, I squeezed onto the chair.

 

"Thank you for coming, unfortunately, I'm going to have to ask you to go backstage," Edward said. "You'll be working with the qualifying models."

"On what, exactly?" one of the girls piped up.

"You see, a model called in sick. One of you will be her replacement."

 

The two other models were excitedly whispering as we passed through the stage curtain. Their chatter ceased immediately when they saw the trio infront of us.

"Hi, I'm Thea," a girl dressed in soft pink silk greeted us. But her greeting was cut short as a girl wearing a green, skin tight leather outfit. Her eyebrows were raised disapprovingly as she seemed to 'assess' our choice of clothing.

"Be quiet Thea, nobody wants to hear what you think," she scowled, then faced us. "I'm Roxie. And that scarf is terrible!" she pointed to my scarf and supplied me with a disgusted look. Another girl stepped forward, standing in front of Roxie.

"Hello, my name's Nadine. We'll all help you prepare for the competition," Nadine interjected, stopping Roxie's insult where it was.

 

I stared at my glammed-up reflection in the mirror.

"How did you ever get so lucky?" I asked myself, a tear forming in my eye. I wiped it away with my finger. "That's just great-spoilt mascara," I reached for the slim black tube as the door swung open and cool air gushed inside.

"Hey girl, do you need some help?" Thea closed the door behind her; a large make up bag clutched in her hand.

"Yeah, my mascara's smudged," I responded.

"Sure, I'll do that," she said, beginning to work on my eyelashes. "Aren't you going to style your hair?" she asked with a giggle. "Let me do that!" I smiled weakly at her and left my appearance in her hands. If she was a model, how bad could she be?

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