Chapter Thirty - Six - Drop Dead

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Blackpink's Kill This Love blasted through the speakers of the darkened venue. That was my cue. The other girls had walked with heads held high, as tried and true professionals, but I couldn't stop my hands from shaking. I wanted to sprint in the other direction, and cry and faint and throw up, and do all the things. But the strangest thing happened as the black velvet curtains pulled back and the spotlights hit me. I came alive.

I threw my head back and turned my palms forward, crossing one leg over the other like it was the most natural movement in the world, even though it felt awkward as hell. A hushed whisper fell over the audience as I passed, but I kept my eyes trained on the back wall, giving nothing away until I finally made it to the end of the runway. I tore my eyes away from the wall and smirked for a moment, taking in the sea of adoring eyes. This was how my father must've felt every time he took the stage. Like a mother fucking rockstar.

I took the opportunity to turn one way, then the other, and toss my bloody braids over my shoulder, making sure the crowd got a good view of the back of my jacket. Katrina had decided to dress me in an all black pants suit with high metallic and clear heels, and a varsity style men's jacket draped loosely over my shoulders. The front left breast boasted the words 'Femme Fetale' while the back shoulder nameplate read 'EVOL'.

I felt beautiful, and strong, and courageous, and like I had just discovered the most addictive drug. I was made for this. I suddenly couldn't believe I had doubted myself back in Southern California. That I almost hadn't come to experience this moment. This moment made all the struggles, and doubles at the restaurant, and time spent away from my family worth it.

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"Oh my gosh! You did so good!" Fi screamed, wrapping her thin arms around my waist and struggled to pick me up in the air backstage at the small exclusive gathering.

"Let me down!" I laughed, slapping her back a couple of times. "Where's Chantel?!" I scanned the group of around one hundred people, but didn't see her long red hair anywhere.

"She disappeared somewhere with this cute little timid intern..." Fi rolled her eyes and plucked two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.

"Oh, I really shouldn't. I'm working." I insisted, posing for a moment as a buyer walked past us and scanned every inch of my body in my runway outfit. That was how these things apparently went after the lights dimmed and people mingled. The models were required to circulate in the clothing so that buyers and exclusive magazine editors could marvel over the line. I didn't mind though, I'd already rubbed elbows with at least half a dozen powerful women I'd only ever dreamt of meeting.

Chantel hadn't been wrong when she said that only strong women were invited to this event, there wasn't a single swinging dick in sight. Not that I minded. I wasn't looking for a king to this queen.

"Everyone sneaks a champagne at the after party." Fi giggled.

"She's not wrong..." Leisha appeared beside me. "Drink the champagne gorgeous, you deserve it." Her grin lit up the room. "Leisha Sawyers." She extended a hand to my stunning roommate.

"Fiona Harrington. I'm Avery's roommate." She announced proudly and I paused to pose for the editor in chief of Vanity Fair. She nodded appreciatively once, and was off to the next model.

"Well fuck me. I didn't think it was possible, but you must be the most beautiful roommate, aside from Avery, of course..." Leisha flirted.

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