"I know we dreamt of these things, but now it seems like your standards are too high."
Adira Archibong wants to be a supermodel, but as she steps into a world of money, fame, and sex, she learns that the only people she can trust are her friends.
...
"I think women are sexy when they got some clothes on... Someone once said it's what you don't see that you're interested in, and I think it's true." - Groucho Marx.
When Adira was seven, she didn't know what her real hair looked like. Not that she had never seen it before. She had, a couple of times when she took her braids or weave out, undid her cornrows or when her hair became so dry and frizzy that she had to go to the salon to get it straightened out again.
When she became six months older, she cut her hair off with a pair of scissors. She didn't know why she had done it, it just felt like the right thing to do at that very moment. Since she had to go to school the next day and her hair wasn't presentable enough (because of a few patches here and there), her mother had to shave everything off with her father's hair clipper.
Years later, Adira found out what her real hair looked like. What it was supposed to look like. She had fallen madly in love with it since then and she promised herself that she would never straighten it or cover it up with another person's hair ever again.
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Adira was, in every sense right. The party was a ball and she saw all that from backstage. Rich men and their elegant women who liked to be first-class in everything scattered brilliantly round the hall. She was certain these men knew that they weren't loved and the women knew that they knew. It was like a game.
Fashion magnates filled the hall with their self-worth and overly priced perfumes. The dazzling chandeliers hung beautifully from the high ceiling, giving the room a glorious style that worked perfectly with the immaculately dressed women.
Adira refused to be intimidated.
So many lights, cameras. Where was the real action?
"Hey, Adira!"
She turned around to a familiar face. Before she could even think of smiling: "The action's here. Will you come here now. You're late."
Oh.
She brought herself to a room filled with makeup, Ankara dresses, and of course, the most important people; the models.
She saw Brenda at a corner, getting her makeup done. Greeting her with a smile, she helped herself to a sit.
While Brenda was getting ready for the runway, she was being prepared for the photoshoot. She wasn't a runway kind of girl. She knew she had the killer fierce face but she couldn't walk in front of a lot of people. And what if she had a nipple slip like the models on TV? So much for hiding her nakedness. Everyone she knew would go nuts.
