I shake my head smiling and look at the other missed calls. Saul, Eric and work. I groan. Work first, I guess. Finding my agent Sharon’s number, it’s answered on the second ring, unfortunately by her assistant Carlie.
Carlie doesn’t like me. Carlie, actually, hates me. I think she’d be happy if I were to be attacked and eaten by rabid seagulls.
Carlie had a thing for Dane.
Dane didn’t have a thing for Carlie.
Then Dane had a thing with me…hence why Carlie doesn’t like me.
“Sophia, sweetie, how are you?” she says in a fake voice. I pull the phone away from my ear and give it a dirty look. Like she cares how I am. When I put it back to my ear, she proves she doesn’t really care as she’s already onto her next sentence.
“…And it starts at nine,” she finishes.
“Errrm, can you repeat that I missed it.”
“Sophia, you need to pay attention. I’m busy, we all have things to do to make sure beautiful models like you have work coming in.” I roll my eyes. Everything she says makes me want to tell her to shove it up her whizz-wazz. It doesn’t help that she like them all in this industry also insists on calling me Sophia.
“Just repeat what you said,” I return bluntly. I’m not in the mood to deal with her tantrums today especially as the dream is still clinging to my chest.
She huffs then slowly repeats what she had said. “There’s a fashion show next Friday night. It’s a new designer and its short notice. I know you don’t usually like runway stuff, but as it’s in London and you have nothing else on, I thought I’d sign you up. The venue is The Design Museum. Next Friday at nine!”
I roll my eyes at her comment about me having nothing else to do. That’s so typical of her, she assumes if I have no work then I have nothing. Still, I could do with a distraction at the moment and runway stuff takes more of my concentration, because it’s not something I usually do. Avoiding it normally, because I don’t like everyone staring at me.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder why I’m still a model.
I shake my head and answer, “Okay Carlie, I’ll do it.”
“Well, I should think so. You haven’t been offered any work for a week now, and you don’t seem interested in going to casting calls anymore either. You’re not getting any younger and new models are climbing the ranks all the time, you know?” she chides.
I laugh out loud.
“Why are you laughing? I wasn’t joking,” she splutters. “Don’t think for a second that I couldn’t talk to Sharon and get your arse fired. There are hundreds of girls willing to take your place, skinnier and younger.” I can hear the smirk in her voice.
I close my eyes and take a long breath through my nose, trying to compose myself. “I’m laughing because you talk shit. And before you get all excited and do something that may cause that stick to blow out of your arse, let me just say that it’s a good thing you talk shit. You’re supposed to. I mean, you basically sell a commodity. Unfortunately, that commodity happens to be people. I personally think you’d be better with something that doesn’t answer back, like maybe vibrators? You could sell vibrators, right Carlie? I mean you must have worn out a fair few over the years. I can’t imagine you’ve had time to fit in a real man, assuming there is one who would want to screw your stiff vajayjay.” I smirk to myself.
“Fuck you!” she shouts and puts the phone down. I smile.
My work here is done.