Halfway Perfect (27 page)

December 26, 10:30 a.m.

I dive for the phone the second I hear the first notes of my ringtone. I've been waiting for what seemed like forever for Wes to return my call. I block out everything I've learned in the past twelve hours and focus on the goal at hand.

“I need to break up with Elana,” I blurt out after the short greetings are finished.

“You need to break up with Elana,” he repeats, calm and slow.

“Yes.”

There's a long pause, and then he says, “Okay. I'll take care of it.”

My brain is rushing to catch up. “Okay?”

“That's what I said, Alex.” I hear him sigh. “I've been biding my time, coming up with the best plan, ever since the fragrance shoot when it was obvious your chemistry had started going downhill.”

“So, I'm out of that job, right? They'll reshoot with a new model?”

“I doubt it.”

Wait, what? “Then why couldn't we break up sooner?” I'm pissed now and trying to get a grip on my anger, afraid all the other stuff I shoved down will quickly resurface.

“A breakup story is a lot easier to digest and accept than a fake relationship story,” Wes says, almost sounding bored with this conversation. I'm practically having heart palpitations. “You needed to put the weeks in first. That's just common sense. And then if you appear perfect and happy for too long, people start making assumptions that maybe it's manufactured. Besides, doesn't everyone fall in love with their first costar? And it lasts until the box office buzz dies down.”

“So we're breaking up?” I repeat just to be clear.

“I'll have the story to the press by this afternoon. Check tomorrow morning's tabloids.”

“Great.” Since I'm afraid to move on to other topics with Wes, I hang up quickly and grab the first thing in my reach (a tennis shoe) and wing it at the back of my bedroom door, pretending the door is Wes.

“Dude? What the hell?” Landon, one of my roommates, shouts from the other side.

I let out a breath, trying to slow my pulse as I open the door, deciding to let the story break right here, right now. “Sorry, I just got dumped.”

Landon's carting a bowl of cereal, his mouth half full, but he gives me a sympathetic look and says, “Sorry, man, that sucks,” before walking to his room. We don't do the roommate thing like Eve and Stephanie.

Eve.

I want to call her so bad, but I know without a doubt it's crucial I stay far away from her right now so no one has the opportunity to jump to conclusions about Eve being the reason I spilt with Elana. If there was ever a best time to exhibit a high level of self-control and avoid any and all contact with Eve Nowakowski, it would be right now. I can't screw up what little she's managed to scrounge together of her life.

Right now, I need to think of something proactive to do. I need to keep my distance from Wes (so I don't kill him), and from Eve (so I don't screw up her life even more) and all I want to do is find a way to get through to her.

There's a copy of
Seventeen
magazine in the stack of mail on my desk and just seeing the cover reminds me of something and then I'm diving for my laptop, whipping it open, and stretching out on my stomach across the bed. Action via computer isn't much better than action via phone, but there's something I need to see.

The first time I Googled Eve Castle, at the
Seventeen
shoot ironically, I remember seeing one search result that wasn't about her abrupt departure from modeling. It had been a “before” story for
Seventeen
.

It takes me no time at all to find the same search result and luckily the interview has been archived and is online.

A ONE-ON-ONE WITH TEEN MODEL SENSATION EVE CASTLE

…She's only fifteen years old but already she's managed to snag the attention of designers like Prada, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren…
Seventeen
editor Jillian Martin sat down to talk to the young star about how she got started and what she's experienced so far in the world of fashion…Jillian even talked her into sharing some of her photos from her summer in Europe and
Seventeen
was
so
impressed
we've included them in this issue along with Eve Castle's candid and enlightening
responses.

JM:
So
what's it like to be Eve Castle? Are you a normal fifteen-year-old? Or is that just what you're supposed to
say?

EC:
That's exactly what I was told to say. You've got that right. Unfortunately, I've never really been normal so now's probably not the time to
start.

JM:
What
do
you
mean, you haven't been normal? You were an
outsider?

EC:
I
guess
you
could
call
it
that…I was too tall to be the girl all the boys liked, too skinny to fit into the latest Aeropostale jeans, not that I could afford them…a little too smart to be cool…and my teeth were crooked but braces were too
expensive.

JM:
Your
teeth? Really? They look fine to
me.

EC:
That's because I did the Invisalign thing at the recommendation of the agency that signed me at the open calls in Chicago. They covered it upfront and then took it out of my early checks in installments. My teeth were pretty bad. I had a huge
overbite.

JM:
Well, you could have kept it a secret and we'd never have known. Why the open
reveal?

EC:
I
didn't sign a contract saying I'd keep it quiet, so I'm not violating anything, but I've seen so many blog comments about me with girls going on about how perfect I am and how they'll never make it as a model because they aren't perfect. Well…I'm not either. I spent years not smiling because I was so self-conscious about my teeth, and add that to me almost never wanting to stand up straight and reveal my full height and you've got a pretty awkward
girl.

JM:
I
think
many
of
our
young
readers
will
probably
throw
a
party
after
hearing
that
you
aren't perfect. Kudos to you for admitting it. What do you hope to gain from modeling? What have you gained so
far?

EC:
Until
I
went
to
Chicago, I'd never been out of Indiana…actually, I'd been to Kentucky a few times…and Central Illinois. But in the last year or so, I've been to New York City, obviously…also Brazil, Mexico, Canada, Florida, France, Italy, England…I studied in Europe all summer taking language immersion classes. My French is now fluent. I took art courses and photography, not to mention learning about all the cultures. I've met dozens of famous designers and eaten some amazing food all over the world…and wine. I got to drink all the wine I wanted in Europe and it's completely
legal.

JM:
That's incredible, and you've acquired quite a résumé thus far. Are you worried about it ending someday? Being the outcast once again? It's a pretty unforgiving and relentlessly critical
industry.

EC:
I
think
everyone
is
using
everyone
in
the
fashion
world. It's not personal, it's business, right? You have to be able to handle that. My goal is to book the best jobs I can, get as much money saved up as possible, travel at every opportunity I'm given, and keep up with my school work so that I can get into a good
college.

JM:
College, huh? So that will be the end of the road for
you?

EC:
Or
the
beginning, depends on how you look at it. And I'm not sure if I'll keep working while I'm in college. That depends on where I get in and whether I'm over the hill
yet.

JM:
I
heard
a
rumor
that
you've already taken your SATs and got a pretty good score…2100, I believe? That's in the 90th percentile, or at least that's what my research
revealed.

EC:
I
did. And I'm going to take them again soon, study some more, and try to do a little better, maybe the 95th
percentile.

JM:
What
advice
would
you
offer
to
young
girls
wanting
to
follow
in
your
footsteps? Maybe wanting to reap the travel and educational benefits as you
have?

EC:
Honestly, if you're not even out of high school yet and if you have a good family and a happy enough home, I'd say find another way to travel the world and learn things. One of the reasons I can handle the criticism of the industry and the diets and the body image issues is because I've never really gotten to be a child. I came already prepared for the brutal adult world. If you come into this expecting to be treated differently because you're only fourteen or fifteen, then you're going to get eaten alive. And I think it's a bunch of crap when people call it child abuse. We all get fair and equal treatment in this industry, and by that I mean we're all treated like models. Regardless of age. So if you aren't ready to be treated like a model, if you're okay with being a kid for a little while longer, then that's exactly what you should
do.

I can't believe she spoke so candidly at fifteen. I bet Wes had a complete shit fit. I would never have the balls to say some of the stuff she admitted. I'd have gone with the standard media answers.

And this article, this is Eve Nowakowski, the Eve I know. Everything Wes has said about her contradicts the person in this interview and maybe she needs to remember. Maybe that's one thing I can do to help Eve.

So I place an order for two copies of this issue and then I send one to Eve's dorm address and one to Elana, because I have a feeling that this might have been the story that made Elana an early Eve Castle fan.

January 10, 10:30 a.m.

I've been staring at the magazine I pulled from the mailbox Stephanie and I share for so long I'm about to be late for Larson's class. I only have one course with him this semester and today's the first day.

Alex sent me the issue of
Seventeen
with me on the cover. Technically, it doesn't say anywhere that it's from him, but I know it is. I haven't heard so much as a peep out of Alex since he left the agency apartment on Christmas night. I still can't believe he went through with the breakup with Elana. I wonder how Wes took it? I wonder if Alex is doing okay with work and everything.

Steph did all the online patrolling for me again when the story broke, and no one could get a single comment out of Alex, like he went into hiding or something. Maybe he went back to Nebraska? It's not like he'd call me up to tell me if he did. Not after what I told him and how I reacted to his reaction.

When I get to Professor Larson's class, I slide into the back, wary because I was two minutes late and I dreaded his reaction to seeing me, knowing I failed him completely after everything he did. I spend the first half of the class flipping through the issue of
Seventeen
Alex sent me and rereading the interview I did years ago. I really liked that editor. I felt like she got me and she talked to me like an adult, not the model kind of adult, but the kind with goals and a future and possibilities that had nothing to do with fashion.

After class, I've already decided to man up and face the music with Larson, but he starts walking toward my desk, a huge grin on his face.

“Miss Nowakowski, how was your break? I assume you're all set and totally prepared for your interview in two days?”

My mouth falls open. He doesn't know. And now I get to relive it all over again. “I thought you would have heard by now,” I sputter, keeping my eyes on my notebook. “I quit working for Janessa. I didn't get the GPA for first semester, and I'm not eligible for the Mason Scholarship anymore…I wasn't even planning on going to the interview.”

Professor Larson's forehead wrinkles. “I see. Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed, but there's always next year.”

Disappointing Professor Larson after all he's done for me is probably worse than the feeling I got after seeing the C in calc last month.

January 11, 2:00 p.m.

“That's what I'm wearing?” I say to the wardrobe guy.

He looks worried and glances at the article of clothing dangling on the hanger and then back at me. “Is that a problem?”

I laugh. “Just plain old, blue-and-white-striped boxers? No, not a problem at all. In fact, I think I love
Cosmo
.”

The guy smiles and shrugs. “Well, it's not a high-fashion piece. We just want you to look like you could be someone's boyfriend or husband. A better-looking version, of course, but still accessible.”

Accessible. I can live with that. So far, since the breakup story broke, work has remained steady, though I'm doing smaller jobs, and I doubt Wes is turning anything down, but still, I haven't had any time to add more work to my schedule. It's booked and I'm making money.

Once I'm dressed in my very comfortable (and roomy) boxers, I head over to hair and makeup and immediately spot Eve.

Eve Castle is shooting
Cosmo
today. Had I read the full call sheet beyond the basic info at the time, I might have known that. But I'm pretty sure I was a last minute add-in, because I just got the details this morning and had to haul ass to get here on time.

I want to walk over and talk to her. She's spotted me. I know she has, but she's trying to look unaffected. I'm staring at Eve across the room in her lacy black bra and panties, when someone plops down beside me.

“Hey man…didn't know you were going to be here.”

Jason, my other roommate, and his girlfriend are seated next to me, taking their turn with hair and makeup. “Oh hey, yeah, this was kind of last minute I guess…”

“You must be the youngest dude here,” he says, glancing around.

There are ten models at this shoot, and almost everyone looks like they're in their twenties or thirties. And
Cosmo
usually uses couples for the bedroom shoots, which is obviously what we're doing today given all the underwear and the big bed in the middle of the studio. However, at least two of us aren't a couple. I know that for a fact.

Just when I can't sit still a second longer, the photographer grabs Eve and some dude who looks about thirty and I'm forced to stand there and watch this guy put his hands all over her. And then instead of giving verbal directions, the photographer dude keeps stepping in and finding a million excuses to put his hands all over Eve and physically move her around.

I squeeze my eyes shut, taking lots of slow deep breaths until I can stop myself from wanting to punch someone. That violent rage seems to be happening to me a lot lately, and I'm not sure why. Maybe I need anger management classes or something.

“What are you doing here?”

I open my eyes and see Eve standing in front of me, leaning close. “Working, like you.”

Her hair is falling in her eyes, so I reach over and move it out of the way. I can't help it and this whole accidentally working together feels like a temporary free pass to be close to Eve.

“So you and Elana, you really did it, huh?” she says, lowering her voice.

“I told you I was going to.” My fingers land on her hip, and I find myself tugging her closer, keeping our conversation as private as possible.

“I thought you left and went back to Nebraska,” Eve whispers.

“I was giving you space. I just don't want—”

Her eyes lift up to meet mine. “Yeah, I know.”

“You two!” the photographer shouts. Eve and I both jump and then turn around to see him pointing at us. Then he turns to the assistant and says, “Cute, right?”

The assistant stares at us too. “Very middle America, friendly neighbors, high school sweethearts. It should work.”

The assistant waves us over and calls the hair girl over, and she starts messing with Eve's hair. Then a wardrobe person puts a long-sleeved, men's dress shirt on Eve, leaving it unbuttoned. And instead of the bed, we get to sit on the long brown leather couch. Actually, we're lying on it, stretched out with our limbs tangled together.

Eve and I are left alone for a minute while lights and cameras are adjusted. I wiggle around to move my arm, which is smashed under both of us and starting to turn numb. Finally, my hand is free and I rest it on Eve's upper arm. “How are you? I mean with school and everything?”

She looks up at me and there are so many words stuck in her expression but she just says, “Good.”

I lean in and touch my forehead to hers. “I miss you.”

Her eyes widen like she had expected me to play it cool, but I'm kind of done with that.

The photographer stands above and says, “This is a foreplay story. Just do whatever you want.”

Foreplay.
That explains the shirt and the couch.

Eve lowers her head and at first I think she's getting started on the current job at hand by kissing my neck, but instead she whispers, “I miss you too.”

My gaze locks with hers again and then I'm kissing her. My hand slides inside her shirt, tugging her closer. The rest of the shoot becomes the easiest work I've ever done in my entire life.

After we finish our couch make-out scene, Eve and I stand together watching my roommate Jason get tied to the metal bedposts by his girlfriend, who's using two designer neckties to do the job. She has trouble keeping a straight face and it takes a while to shoot.

The whole time we're waiting to be done, I'm racking my brain for a plan. I've given the Elana breakup a couple of weeks to cool down and become old news. I've thought about Eve and Wes from a million different angles, and I know that she doesn't see the same level of severity in that relationship that I see. And I know that getting her to be with me outside of this photo shoot is going to require getting her to see things the way I see them. But what can I say that will be even remotely enlightening to someone as smart as Eve?

By the time we're all dressed and ready to go, I've made my decision.
Screw
the
tabloids, screw Wes Danes
. I catch Eve before she gets into the elevator, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into an empty office.