Drop Dead Gorgeous (8 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Clara bounded out of bed just before noon, eager to get started on promoting Adonis’s career. The first thing she did was email Monica and attach the fake tear sheets she’d created – the magazine cover and catalog pages. In the subject line, she just wrote: “Looky what I found.”

Three minutes later, her phone rang.

“Are those tears of Derek’s? He looks really strange, but I mean, in a good way. Where did you find them?” Monica asked before even saying hello.

“That’s not Derek. His name’s Adonis, and he’s my new talent.”

“God, he looks just like Derek.”

“Well, similar, I guess. Same type. Hopefully he looks enough like him to take his bookings.”

“How did you find him?”

“I’ve been putting out some feelers.”
Well, that is true.

“And you’re managing him?”

“Yes. He’s a musician as well – very eccentric artist type. Writes music all day and will only model at night.”

“Well, that’s strange.”

“He’s definitely strange. But clients eat him up. He’s been working in Europe. Just got to L.A.”

“I might have something I can send him on this afternoon.”

“Oh, he doesn’t audition. And won’t do anything except work on his music during the day.”

“Wow. You’re right. He is eccentric. Who else has seen him?”

“You’re the first person I contacted, of course. You said Derek left a hole in your roster. Adonis can fill it. What’s the audition for today?”

“An ad for the Four Seasons Hotel. Jim Cavanaugh’s shooting it. God, he’d love this guy. Well, he loved Derek, so….”

“Send him those tears and tell him he’ll work for half of what Derek would have made – as a gesture of good will. Cause he’s a newbie here.”

“I’ll call you right back.”

Clara took a shower and dressed and was halfway through breakfast when the phone rang again.

“Can he come in and sign a contract today?” Monica asked.

“I can pick it up and have him sign it tonight. Will that work?”

“Yes. Jim Cavanaugh’s pitching him to the client now. He loves him – can’t get over the resemblance.”

“Excellent. I’ll be by to get the agency contracts this afternoon. Just leave them at the front desk and leave some vouchers for me too. He can sign it tonight and I can bring it over tomorrow.”

“Can you drop it by my apartment tonight? I’d love to meet him.”

“Sure. I’ll let you know what time’s good for him.”

“Damn, Clara, I think you found a live one.”

A dead one, actually.
“Yeah, I think so too.”

When Derek came over later, she jumped up and wrapped herself around him, squealing with delight about her good news.

“Monica wants to sign you. Jim Cavanaugh wants to shoot you. You’re on your way, baby!”

He kissed her and they sat down and talked about rates and rules. He was fine with making half his old rate, knowing it would build quickly once clients were pleased with his work. They decided to tell people he was a germophobe so they wouldn’t shake his hand. His cool temperature might raise some questions. He liked her idea of his being a moody musician who would only work at night. He knew that would limit him on a lot of his jobs, but there was nothing to be done about that.

She put the agency paperwork in front of him and he started signing.

“We’re taking this to Monica tonight,” she said.

“Shit, really? I’m not sure it’s a good idea for her to see me. She knew me pretty well.”

“You think she’ll recognize you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Did you…you know…date her?”

“No, nothing like that.” He stood and walked to the mirror by the front door and contemplated his image for a moment. “Maybe if I change my voice, have an accent. You said I’d been working in Europe, right?” He looked back at Clara.

“Yes, but I didn’t say you were European.”

“You know what? It’ll be a good test. If she freaks out, I can just make her forget she saw me.”

“What if it doesn’t work on her like it didn’t on me?”

“Don’t worry, it will.”

Clara had warned Monica not to shake Adonis’s hand when she’d called to say they were on their way over. So Monica gave him a polite nod when they stepped inside her apartment and Clara introduced them.

“Wow. You look so much like Derek Randall,” Monica said.

“Yes, I geet dat a lot,” Derek said, his voice deeper than normal and with an odd accent. Clara caught herself and stifled a laugh. Derek gave her a quick glance and went on, “But I’m a leetle older dan he vas.”

Clara thought of the Count on Sesame Street and bit her lip.

“Well, you don’t sound like him. But, really, your face….”

“Vell, I’ll be happy to take hees money.” Then he got more reverent. “It sucks that he died.”

“Yes. It sure does.”

Monica and Derek sat on the sofa while Monica briefly went over the contracts. Derek asked a few questions as she explained everything.

Clara stood beside Derek and watched over his shoulder. She knew the standard agency contracts like the back of her hand, and she assumed he did as well, so her eyes wandered around the room while Monica spoke to Derek.

Monica’s apartment was tastefully decorated. She was an art collector, so her walls were covered with interesting sights. Clara had seen them all before, but her eyes naturally scanned the room again. She stopped at a portrait – a stunning nude painting of a young man standing with his back to the artist, his face in profile. His body was flawless and she couldn’t help but admire the shape of his legs and buttocks, his broad back and shoulders. Her eyes followed the fluid lines of his body and came to rest on his equally beautiful face. Her heart stopped.
Terence.

That was why Terence had looked familiar to her. She’d studied this painting before. She remembered when Monica bought it at a gallery on Melrose. She recalled a little about the artist. He was known for his portraits of young handsome men. Those, and some paintings of a blonde woman. And even though he’d died young, he’d been very prolific.

“I tink vee’re all set heere, Clara.” Derek’s voice interrupted her thoughts in his new Sesame Street accent, and she turned around. His eyes darted to the painting and then back to her. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” She smiled at Monica. “Thanks so much, Monica.”

“My pleasure. Adonis, you’re booked for the Four Seasons shoot tomorrow night.”

“Great!” Clara said. “I’ll call you tomorrow for the details.”

“His call time is ten p.m. I hope that’s okay. You did say he’ll only work at night, right?”

“Yes, that’s great. Ten is perfect. At Jim Cavanaugh’s studio?”

“No, the hotel. On Doheny.”

“Okay. He’ll be there at ten.”

Monica walked them to her door and started to extend her hand before catching herself. Clara gave her a hug and thanked her again before she and Derek – Adonis – left.

Once they were in the car, Clara said, “Maybe we should have talked about the accent a little before, huh?”

“Was it that bad?” he asked.

“We’ll work on it, okay? We need to keep our stories straight, that’s all. Like where you’re from.”

They rode quietly for a while until she decided to ask Derek about the painting.

“That was Terence, wasn’t it?”

“What? I don’t know.” His voice sounded funny. But not funny, like Dracula funny. Funny, like he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, it certainly looked like him. Do you know who the artist is?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you even a little curious about it?”

“No, and I don’t see why you should be either. It’s just a painting. No big deal.”

“A painting of a vampire that I met in my living room.”

“Just drop it, okay?”

He was definitely acting weird. Maybe he just wasn’t comfortable discussing Terence with her. He hadn’t exactly been full of information about Madeline either. She decided to let it go.

When they got home, any weirdness about the painting was gone and they spent the rest of the night in bed working on Derek’s accent and celebrating his Four Seasons booking, hopeful that it would be the first of many.

After they’d made love, she felt herself getting sleepy and reminded him of his call time before drifting off blissfully in his arms. Adonis’s career was beginning tomorrow night, and her new life as his manager was as well.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Derek walked into the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel at precisely ten p.m. He and Clara had agreed to arrive separately. The lights were already set up around a sofa, and Derek spotted Jim Cavanaugh standing close to the set, talking to a woman Derek didn’t recognize.

He approached Jim and the woman, keeping his hands in his pockets.

“Are you Jim Cavanaugh?” he asked, knowing full well he was.

“Yes.” Jim’s hand reached out, but he withdrew it quickly. Monica or Clara had done her job well.

“I’m Adonees,” Derek said in his deep voice.

“Yes, of course. Such a pleasure to meet you. Wow. You do look just like Derek Randall. God, I’m sorry. Monica said you hate hearing that.”

Derek nodded. Clara must have added that to his list of oddities.

The woman at Jim’s side chimed in, “Oh, I think you’re much better looking than Derek Randall. Plus, you’ve got that hot accent that he didn’t have.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m Strawberry.” She extended her hand. Derek ignored it.

“I guess that’s no worse than Adonis.”

Her smile faltered. Had his accent slipped?

“I’m keedding. Nice to meet you, Strawberry.”

“So, where are you from?” she asked.

“Uh…Transylvania.”
Shit. Should have probably asked Clara about that first.

“Wow. That’s hot.”

His new admirer, Strawberry, was obviously the female model booked for the shoot. Her hair and makeup were already perfectly done and she was wearing an oversized bathrobe and Ugg boots.

“Let’s get you to wardrobe and hair and makeup,” Jim said as he led Derek through the lobby and into one of the hotel’s meeting rooms.

Fortunately, Derek didn’t know the hairdresser, makeup artist or wardrobe stylist, and only had to endure a few comments about his resemblance to Derek Randall. The stylist was unaware that his sizes were all identical to the dead supermodel’s because she’d never dressed Derek before.

Once Derek and Strawberry were ready, they were ushered back to the lobby and seated on the perfectly-lit sofa. A few extras were placed in the background and Jim began to shoot as Derek and Strawberry faked a pleasant conversation. 

Every few minutes, Jim would step away and confer with the clients who were gathered around a monitor across the lobby, muttering to each other and to Jim. Then Jim would come back and give a few directions before shooting again.

Things went smoothly for a couple of hours, after which everyone took a quick break. Strawberry took off looking for the ladies room. Derek no longer had a need for a bathroom, of course, and politely refused the bottle of water a production assistant brought him.

He stood to stretch his legs and saw Clara come through the front door into the lobby. Her face lit up when she saw him.

She stopped and spoke to Jim and the clients before heading over to Derek.

“Everything going okay?” she asked.

“Perfect.”

When she smiled, he had to fight to keep his fangs from extending.

Strawberry returned and Clara stepped away so the shoot could resume.

After another hour or so, the clients seemed happy with what they had and Jim called wrap.

Derek and Strawberry went back into the wardrobe room to change. Emerging first, Derek found Jim and Clara waiting at a table in the lobby with his paperwork.

Derek signed the model release and agency voucher and thanked Jim for the job. It paid five thousand dollars for unlimited use for two years – not a rate he’d worked for in years, but he was grateful that Clara would get some money out of it and knew it was still an exceptional rate for a newcomer.

Clara drove him back to her apartment. He could tell she was getting tired, but she was still eager to make love, and told him Jim said he might want him for another booking later in the week before she fell asleep.

He walked home, feeling good about his first job as Adonis. Terence and Raymond were in the living room when he got home, and he told them about his evening.

When he told them he’d chosen Transylvania for his home, he spoke in his new
Adonees
voice.

“Transylvania?” Terence asked. “Seriously?”

“You speak Romanian?” Raymond added.

Derek looked from one to the other, realizing he probably should have thought that through a little better. “Fuck,” was all he said.

When he climbed the stairs to go to his room, he knew who was waiting for him, of course. Madeline was sitting on his bed. He didn’t join her on the bed, but stood facing her, hoping the conversation would be brief.

“How did it go?” she began.

“Great. You’ll have thirty-two fifty in the bank by the end of next week.”

“I thought it paid five thousand.”

“It did. But I have to pay my agent and manager. I’ll get a ten ninety-nine when tax time comes around, so don’t spend it all.”

“You need an agent
and
a manager?”

He’d never needed a manager before, but the main point of this was to make some money for Clara. Of course, he didn’t want Madeline to know that. “Yes. It’s standard.”

She just looked at him, waiting.

“Look, this is what I do. You’ll just have to trust me. I have to pay my agent and manager. You get the rest. And my rate will go up. Don’t worry. You’ll get plenty.”

She reached out and pulled him towards her by his belt. He started to stop her as she began to unbuckle it, but she shot him a warning glance. He stood still as she removed his flaccid penis from his pants, rubbed her nose on it, and looked up at him with distrust.

“What? Yes, I fucked somebody. What’s the big deal?” He pulled away from her and put himself back into his pants.

“You fucked someone at your job?”

“No, of course not. I took the other model home and fucked her. I was hungry.”

“Did you use your magic?”

“Of course. She won’t remember anything.”

Madeline stood and glared at Derek for a long moment. He stared right back, waiting and hoping she’d just leave him alone. He didn’t want to have anything to do with her sexually, but suspected he would not be allowed to say no to her. The thought of having to lie to Clara about it made him feel sick.

“Did people suspect who you really are?”

“No. A few said I looked like Derek Randall, but people believe what they’re told. They bought it. Don’t worry about that.”

“I’m not crazy about the idea of you out there with humans. I don’t think you realize what we’re risking if anyone suspects what you are.”

“Nobody’s going to suspect.”

“I don’t like the attention on you. You’re still so young. You could so easily fuck up.”

“I won’t fuck up.” He wondered how much he had already fucked up by showing himself to Clara – by involving her in all of this. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

Without another word, Madeline walked past him and out the door. He closed his eyes and felt her leaving, getting father and farther away – down to her own house at the end of the block.

He got into bed and waited for the rush before dawn
. Am I making a mistake?
If anything went wrong, everyone in the nest could risk being discovered. And, of course, Clara would be in danger if Madeline found out who she was to him.
I should have stayed away and left Clara alone. But I couldn’t. I love her.

Now that his new career had officially started, he would just have to make sure there were no mistakes – that no one suspected what he was, and that Madeline never suspected who Clara was. He turned out the light with his mind and pictured Clara’s face before dawn took him and he was dead to the world.