“You have to eat the sandwich, Ms. Loana.” He sounds like he honestly doesn’t want to bother me and I know he’s only trying to help and these are the rules for whatever reason but I really wish he'd walk away.
“If you pass out on stage and Mr. Moore finds out I saw youalmostpass out before going out and I didn’t have you eat, I’d lose my job.”
I nod regrettably before looking back at my plate, and I feel the back of my eyes stinging.
“If you’d like something else, I can–”
“No, this is okay.” I keep my eyes away from him as I sit back down. I close my eyes as I take a bite, and I don’t want to, but I force myself to swallow it. He stays in the kitchen as he also eats, but I sense him watching me. I’m not sure if he’s still just doing his job, but it feels like judging, and I want to crawl out of my skin.
I force myself to finish the dumb sandwich and rush out of the kitchen. I smile when I pass a few girls as I look for the bathroom. The minute I’m inside, a single tear falls.
“Stop it, Sage,” I whisper to myself and force myself to get it together. I tilt my head down so my tears don’t touch my face as they fall. When I look back in the mirror my makeup is, thankfully, still close to perfect.
Without another thought, I walk into one of the stalls and make myself throw up. That sandwich was like a footlong, and I honestly feel too full, so it’s fine that I do this. I can’t go on stage and throw up out there, that’ll be a nightmare so I just get rid of what's in my stomach now…
I wasnotabout to pass out. I get a little dizzy when I stand up too fast all the time, and I’ve always been fine. That guy just takes his job too seriously because I’m fine and–
“Are you okay, babe?”
I freeze at the knock on my stall.I didn’t lock the door.
I flush the toilet as I tell her I’m fine because Iam. I wait there for a few seconds, but she doesn’t walk away, so I get this over with and walk out. When I open the stall I realize it’s Allie, one of Vincent’s models.
“Sorry about that.” I give her a small smile and rush off to the sink.
“Is it the nerves?” She comes behind me in the mirror with a smile. “I used to get so sick before big shows like this, but you’ll be great.”
I thank her and leave before she can study me any longer and figure anything out.
When I start talking to a few of the other girls, I surprisingly feel way better, and I think it’s their essence. All of the models here are Moore Girls, and something about them just… shines. I don’t know how to explain it, but there is something different about Vincent's models.
“Let’s take a group pic before we go on stage!” They all circle up, and I smile when some of them swap to be on their good side. They seem like such a family in terms of how they operate. It’s like this with my girls, too, especially The Core Eight, and I’m not sure why, but I was expecting it to be different here, more formal, I guess.
“Sage, come on!”
My face hurts a bit with how big I smile, but I join in their picture, and when I look at all of us in the mirror, I realize, tonight, I’m one of them. I’m a model for Vincent freaking Moore. This has literally been the dream since I had my firstcasting at nineteen, and I know he hasn’t given me a contract or anything, but it feels surreal.
The opening music starts, and we all move around to make room for the first few models. They each go out one after the other, and when it’s my turn, all of my nerves evaporate as I walk across the stage.
I keep my face stone cold as I focus on one point in the back of the room. A few people have their cameras out, but there isn’t much flash and there also isn’t a lot of cheering like our shows. At Moore events, everyone usually saves their cheering for the end as they clap here and there through the show and I don’t know why, but it makes the events seem classier.
I make it backstage, and my eyes land on a girl who is frantically trying to fix her hairpiece.
“Can you help me with this?”
I rush to her and try to untangle her headpiece from her curls.
“Ugh! I hate when we have to change our hair between looks!”
I see her getting nervous, and I try to calm her down.
“You’re okay.” I gently pull one last curl. “There.” I set the headpiece down and she lets out a breath of relief.
“Thanks, Sage.”
I feel my brows furrow because I had no clue she knew my name, but I smile anyway. “Yeah, no problem, Jess.”
She turns on her heels just as her hairstylist walks in. I walk over to my vanity, and I have to change into my next outfit, but just as I go to do so, I see a girl in tears.
