Writing Randomness

Short Story - Fired

"Okay, head up and strut." I told myself over and over as I got ready for the catwalk. I had a really bad habit of tripping when I was nervous, so I had to shake the feeling off, or my career was probably finished. I worked for the Los Angeles fashion company as a model, but I was getting pretty old for this kind of thing, and what was worse was that my boss was here, so he'd fire me in a heartbeat. I didn't think I could trip that easily, though. I was wearing a short, silver sparkly dress, but the tall gold stilettos weren't helping my confidence.

But I took a deep breath as I heard my music start, so I pushed the curtain aside and strutted out into the brightly-lit and heavily slippery floor. I saw multiple camera flashes that blinded me, and I know the edge of the catwalk was approaching, but I kept hitting my heels against the floor, swaying my hips and giving it everything I got. I posed every once in a while, but kept walking on. I knew I finally reached the end because I saw the blackness of the crowd and the lights were behind me, and I waved to the crowd and turned to head back.

I posed once more with my foot up behind me, but as I placed it down, it caught the edge, and I went tumbling into the crowd.

I was getting too old for this job.

I heard the gasps of the crowd around me as they helped me back up onto the catwalk, and I gave them a reassuring smile, posing like I should've the first time. I heard nothing but camera buttons being clicked as I headed back, feeling my career slipping from me without my control. I could feel these footsteps be my last I would ever take on a catwalk.

I pushed the curtain aside and the first person I see is my boss, Mr. Jackson, looking down on me like I totally messed up.

"Ms. Leckutt." He started, tapping his foot and crossing his arms. "That's the fourth show you've fallen in this month."

I dropped my shoulders, doing everything I could to avoid his gaze. "I know, but it's-"

"I don't want excuses, you've given me too many." He stated angrily, waving his hand out in front of me, cutting me off from speaking. "You're just too old now, you're not what you used to be." Then he said the two words I was dreading to hear my entire life. "You're fired."

I stood there silently as he walked away, pulling out his phone, probably contacting the next model he had on his list to take my place. But my fear turned into anger easily, and today was probably the last time I was ever going to see him. The anger burned up inside of me, and the words started rolling off my tongue.

"Fine! I don't need you or this career! You can't tell me what to do!" I screamed, trying to run in my heels, but couldn't. I turned around spastically, flipping my hair and keeping my head held high. It didn't matter. I'm thirty-three and ready for a new job anyway, a career I can actually enjoy without all the pressure of what to wear and whatever the hell else they put me through.

But that didn't stop me from sending him an evil email anyway.

I don't care if you fired me or not. You're just a sports mascot and I've done more in my life then you ever will, and you'll die soon anyway. Smokers like you are just asking to die. So good freaking bye Josh, see you when I have a real job.

And with that, I pressed send. Yeah, it was kinda mean, but it couldn't be unsent, so I was glad it was done. I hope he sits on his stupid little boat of his and is smoking when he gets it, because even though he was wasting his life away, I had no reason to.