The story started out when I was at the Carnville mall in a little town in Montana. I was only thirteen and I remember I was with my mom when this beautiful lady with dirty blond hair approached me with the largest smile on her face. Her eyes became wider and wider when she saw me and she let out a sweet hello. I could tell this lady was from something important by the expensive clothes she wore and sky high leather heels. That lady is Kelly Donaldson, my hardworking agent/manager/publicist. (She doesn’t trust anybody else working with me) She discovered me there three years ago, at the Carnville mall and she’s made me into the youngest and most successful teenager in the entire modeling industry. I am, Bridget Ericson. Daughter of Caroline and George Ericson. Welcomed into the world on July 14th of 1993. The one and only child with deep brown eyes, small pale lips and dark brown hair which I’ve all inherited from my mother’s side. I stand at 5 feet 7 inches (which is pretty short for being a model) and weigh 105 pounds. And oh, biggest highlight of my life right now…running for a spot in Prada’s Spring 2010 Runway Show.
It’s a breezy Friday and my first day off of work in months. I made a little lunch date at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf with my best friend, Jillian. Jillian’s just a normal LA girl who definitely has a mind of her own and probably the most risk taking person I have ever met in my whole life. We had met at the Neiman Marcus store down the road and were both in awe at the new Marc Jacobs limited edition handbag two years ago. Her dad coincidently is also my lawyer and she’s been my best friend ever since.
“Hey Bridge,” Jillian exclaims walking through the door, we haven’t had a real person-to-person conversation in months.
“Hey Jilly, how’s it going? I’ve missed you so much,” I tell her.
“Oh nothing much. School and boring stuff you know, nothing exciting like your life,” she says sliding into our booth. I got about a half a word out from my next sentence when our waiter came by and started taking our orders.
“I’ll have a peppermint coco with double the whip cream and chocolate fudge on top,” Jillian orders. The thing I’m most jealous about Jillian is she eats whatever she wants. Nobody yells at her for gaining three pounds and sends her off to the gym to lose it all the next day.
“Non-fat soy latte for me,” I say, how exciting. The waiter leaves and Jillian begins the conversation again.
“So any good bookings lately for you, Bridge?” Jillian asks.
“Nah, I’m just waiting on Prada right now. It’s all I’ve been thinking about!”
“Well don’t worry honey, I’m sure you’ll get a spot,” Jillian reassures. I let out a weak giggle and our drinks come. My Gucci hobo bag is moving underneath my feet and I hear that familiar, annoying ringtone. It’s my pink Swarovski crystal covered iPhone. I slowly bend over and reach it out of my bag. Ugh, I look at the screen, it’s Kelly.
“Yeah Kelly?” I answer. I can hear car horns beeping and the wonderful sound of traffic, she’s probably driving.
“Hello sweetie. I’ve got some bad and good news for you. It’s about Prada…” My heart flipped and my breath instantly got shorter.
“What?!” I screamed into the phone.
Kelly starts answering, “The good news is Prada is definitely considering you to be in there show,” I let out a sigh of relief and happiness. “But, your running against Tiffany for the part,” My heart stops. I feel lightheaded and nauseated. I press the end call button and take slow short breaths. Jillian looks worried but I can’t explain it to her right now. Oh my gosh, Tiffany? Oh no. Out of every model in the whole industry the last model you want to compete for a part is with Tiffany Collins. Tiffany is an absolutely out of control freak. She’s for sure beautiful with all her natural beauty but the problem with Tiffany is she gets whatever she wants and lets nothing stand in her way. We had worked together at a photo shoot for Armani Exchange last year and she brought her idiot boyfriend. He apparently showed a little interest in me and gave me a kiss when we were alone. I politely refused to keep this going because I didn’t like him at all but she saw the whole thing. She marched up half dressed and I literally saw steam coming out of her burning red face. I swear she was going to beat me up like a ragged doll but the security guards broke it up before anything happened. Tiffany has hated me ever since but surprisingly, I don’t really care. She’s a heartless girl that I have no intention of being friends with. I took a couple yoga breaths and tried to calm myself down. I then tried to explain it all to Jillian. There’s not an ounce of worry in her when I finish.
“Psh,” she says. “Tiffany? She’s a piece of cake! You’ll so be able to take her down!” I feel a little better knowing Jillian has so much confidence in me.
“But her boyfriend kind of cheated on her with me,” I remind her.
“Well it’s not your fault her boyfriend is extremely attracted to you. Anyways, she’ll be over it by now,” Jillian says finishing her drink. She takes a quick glance at the clock and says, “I got to go now, honey. Dad wants some daughter father time at the country club. Call me when you get updates about Prada, kay?”
“Alright,” I say. I pay the tab and head out into the crazy streets of LA. Wow, no paparazzi today. I wonder what’s going on. It’s a silent ride back home for me in the car with my bodyguard, Larry. It gave me lots of time to think. Do I really want to go up with Tiffany for this? I mean, every model wants to be apart of Prada but is it really worth it? How far would she go t o get this part? I can’t take it anymore! When Larry parks in the driveway I strode into the house and immediately in the kitchen. I grab a glass of water and begin dialing Kelly for more info. I let out all my thoughts for about five minutes without Kelly saying a word.
She lets out a long sigh and says, “I know Tiffany is going to be competition, Bridget. But all you need is to just give it your all and play fair. I don’t want you girls making up a big scene, okay?” She says in a very strict, motherly tone.
“Okay,” I say even though I know the word fair doesn’t exist in this town.
“Well the directors don’t want to see both you guys till three hours prior to runway on Sunday. So I guess we’ll see then,” Kelly says.
“Yeah, we’ll see then,” I say quietly.
“Stop sounding so worried and upset. Get going to the gym, Bridge! Go to the spa, pamper yourself or go get a new haircut or something! Make yourself the most beautiful model in the world, honey. Make them want to pick you and not regret it afterwards,” At that note, Kelly hung up and I felt a million pounds of pressure added on my shoulders. I take a long sip of my water. Ugh, I need to go to the mall. I feel like being alone right now so I don’t call Larry and just grab my keys to my brand new Audi. I slide into the tan, cool, leather seats; slide down my black oversized Fendi sunglasses and start the engine. When I got to the mall it seemed to be as less crowded today as usual. Stay home moms with fake tans, new multicolor monogram Louis Vuitton handbags and right off the runway Christian Loubotini peep toe shoes are the only people that I see. Hmm, Saks; 30% off select items. I guess I’ll go there first. As I walk through the empty entrance of Saks I admire all the new Herve Ledger dresses this season and started going through them. I was reaching for a short, denim, cut dress when my hands met with someone else’s. I immediately looked up and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Her long, soft curly, blonde, honey highlighted hair gleamed in the lights and her clear blue eyes seemed to give me a fake smile. Then she flashed that white toothy smile that I’ve seen on magazines way too many times. Tiffany Collins. Right when I needed a break from things the devil just has to show up.
“Hey, Bridget! How are you doing, girl?” She asks in the fakest voice.
“Um, I’m doing okay, thanks.” I manage to answer nicely. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” She exclaims. “I hear we’re running together for that spot in Prada, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I quietly reply.
“Well I wouldn’t want to run for that spot with anyone but you, Bridge. Gives me a little competition,” She spits out. Okay, I can’t take this fake little talk anymore. Let’s just cut straight to the point.
“Cut the sweet talk, Tiffany,” I say. “I know you’re going to do anything it takes to kick me out of that spot for Prada. But you know what? Do whatever you want to do, because I’m not going to be playing nice girl either this time. Yeah, that’s right. You’re going down this time,” Wow, I can’t believe I just said that.
“Well B, finally got some back bones, huh?” She says with her evil eyes and smiles. The devil would most definitely look like that. “But I just hope you don’t get hurt. I mean, how are you going to compete with this?” She annoying slides her hands down her body pointing out her stick like figure.
“Oh we’ll see how thing goes. You’re going to get it, Tiffany Collins. You just wait and see,” I tried to flash her an evil eye but she just seemed to smirk. I thought I heard someone say my name so I turned around. Right as I did so Tiffany poured her Starbucks coffee frappicino right down my white Dolce and Gabbana tank! AHH! I wanted to scream and pull her head off but I remembered I told Kelly I wouldn’t cause a scene. I just took a long hard stare at her and stormed out of Saks, I didn’t even say goodbye to the doorman when I left which is very unlike me. I ran to the car not wanting to explain to reporters why I have a ugly colored coffee stain on my shirt. I got straight into my car and dialed Jillian. I know she’s the only one that’s going to help me flush Tiffany’s life down the toilet. I told her to immediately drive to my house and I’ll explain it all when we got there. My mother would probably be home from her Pilates class by now so when I go in I’ll have to look normal like nothings wrong.
I carefully opened the door to my multimillion dollar home and greeted my mother in my sweetest daughter voice, “Hi, Mommy! How was Pilates?”
“It was good sweetheart,” Her light brown eyes went down to my stained tank. “Why is your shirt so dirty?” She asked confused.
“Um, I, um…,” I hesitate for a split second. I, for sure am not telling her about Tiffany at Saks, “I sneezed and my coffee spilt all over my shirt.” Please buy it, mom.
“Oh, well you know how your allergies are this season, honey,” Phew. She bought that lame excuse. “Make sure to take her medicine daily. I remember when we still lived in Montana and-“ Thank God, the doorbell interrupted her before she could go on. I love my mom more than words can explain but I’m getting really sick of her “When we still lived in Montana…” stories. She would trade her raising cattle, chickens, waking up early to do chores and driving hours to get to a decent mall Montana life than her high end designer wardrobe, fancy outings with celebrities, exotic traveling and her now glamorous life in Los Angeles. Don’t get me wrong, I miss living in Montana too but I much rather live the life I’m living now. When I get to the door it’s Jillian. Time to get down to business. She greets my mom and starts some small talk when I run up to my room and change into a black Free People blouse and white 7 for all Mankind shorts. I hustle back down the stairs, grab some diet colas and then we head out to the poolside. I start catching Jillian up with the Tiffany thing at Saks and what Kelly has said about Prada. I’m so glad I have a best friend who hates Tiffany Collins just as much as I do.
“This girl has done enough already,” she says in an angry voice. “If she wants to play dirty, we’ll play even dirtier back!”
“But how?” I ask. “Prada is in less than three days! What can we do to her that will make her loose?”
“Well, don’t you models go to the spa and get your hair done and stuff before stuff like this?”
“Yeah,” I say confusedly. “Sometimes, but how does that have to do with anything?”
“Didn’t you say she updates her Twitter status thing everywhere she goes so she’ll have paparazzi following her everywhere?”
“Yes,”
“Well we can stalk her using that! We can follow her around town and mess up her orders at the spa so she’ll look like a crazy woman!”
“I don’t know about that, Jilly. What if we get caught?”
“We’re not going to get caught. We’ll wear disguises!” Jillian is so creative; I don’t understand how she comes up with these things. Normally I would immediately object to things like this but I want to be in the show so bad. I can’t believe I’m getting into this.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get started then.”
Jillian pulls out her blackberry and starts typing. A few seconds later we’re directed to Tiffany’s twitter page. Last update, two minutes ago. “Back from a fabulous shopping trip. Going to get a tan at Sun Kissed Plaza right now!”
Jillian and I give each other evil stares and a light bulb just went off in both of our heads. We first head up to my closet and pick out clothes that would give us a low profile. We choose simple, one-color long sleeve shirts and pair them with some dark wash Hudson jeans from last season. Then to top off our disguises we paired it with large brimmed hats and brown Ray Ban aviator sunglasses. Ugh, I still look recognizable. Then I remembered that I had different colored wigs from Halloween last year. I dug them out from our family costume box and luckily found two. One blonde and pitch black. I go with blonde and Jillian goes with black. After we finished, we got into Jilly’s new BMW convertible and went to Holly’s beauty store down the road. It’s famous for selling hundreds of colors for tanning. Exactly what we need. Jillian decided that most ridiculous color someone could get was tomato red. Perfect for Tiffany. We pay for the can and drive to the tanning salon. It’s a warm and sunny California day and I surprisingly love how the wind blows my hair back away from my face. This would be perfect bonding time for Jillian and me if we weren’t doing something so evil. I’ve been to this tanning salon quite a couple times so our plan was for me to pretend I needed a tan and Jillian would sneak back with me. We’d find where Tiffany’s tanning bed is, carefully switch the cans and hide somewhere where we can see her reaction when she gets out. We arrive at the salon and a lazy looking brunette with too much make up on greets us, “Hello. Welcome to Sun Kissed Plaza, how may I help you?”
“Hello,” I say in my sweetest voice flashing my fake rehearsed smile Kelly makes me do when meeting important people. “I’d liked to get a tan.
“Okay,” she says, “What color do you want?”
“Uhmm, European gold,” I reply, it’s the first thing I see on the list of colors.
“Alright, follow me to this room,” she says getting up from her chair. Ugh, I hate these types of employees who treat their customers like this. It makes you feel so unwelcome. Lazy brunette leads us down a wide hallway made of bricks and fancy lighting. Wow, this place is definitely for a celebrity. We finally get to the place that has the tanning beds and I immediately recognize Tiffany. She’s in a white robe with her hair tied back into a neat ponytail. Jillian and I are still in disguises so she doesn’t recognize us but she did take a peek.
“Take your clothes off and put this on,” lazy brunette says. “I’m going to go mix your color, I’ll be right back.” I nod.
“Ms. Collins, we can get started now,” a short red headed girl said to Tiffany.
“Oh wait!” Tiffany exclaims. “I forgot to take this off,” her 11K white gold diamond rimmed Rolex watch. “Will you keep this for me?”
“Of course,” replies red head. She heads back to the front desk and Tiffany steps into the tanning bed.
“Go Jillian! Now!” I say. Perfect moment, the coast is clear. Jillian runs up to Tiffany’s bed, unscrews the can and replaces it with the tomato red can we bought.
“There’s a giant plant over there,” Jillian says, “Go hide there!” Man, this plant is humongous. It easily hides the both of us. Lazy brunette comes back with red head. She looks confused, picks up the white robe I dropped and is looking around for us.
“Did you see the two girls with the hats and sunglasses?” She asks the red head.
“Yeah, they were just here,” she says. “Maybe they had something urgent and just left through the back door.”
“Probably, oh well. I’ll be in the front desk if you need me,” lazy brunette says and leaves. Red head walks to Tiffany’s bed and turns it on. Oh gosh, this is going to be hilarious. I hope we can contain ourselves when she steps out as red as a tomato! Another reason we chose this color is because it’s suppose to be the hardest color to get rid of. It takes days to fade and you’re not supposed to get another tan because it’ll make the color even worse. HAHAHA, Tiffany so deserves this. The whole tanning process takes about fifteen minutes so while we wait Jillian and I plan our next move in our quietest voices.
“Well how are we supposed to do that?” I ask. Jillian checks Tiffany’s Twitter page and it says she’s going to Michael Labran’s hair studio next. She wants to give her a wacky hair cut.
“We could call in, pretend that we’re Tiffany’s hair stylist and tell them what to do. Aren’t these people supposed to do whatever the celebrity’s stylists tell them to do?”
“Usually, they assume the stylist knows what’s best,” I answer. “But do you think we could really pull that off?”
“Sure we can!” Jillian says, “All we need to do is impersonate Tiffany’s stylist and ta da! Tiffany will have a new hairstyle Hollywood will never forget.” Jillian and I start smirking when Tiffany’s tanning bed beeps. Yes, time for the results. The red head comes in and opens up the bed and you can see its bad by the look on her face. She looks like she’s just seen a ghost! Suddenly, a very very orange leg pops out. Oh. My. Gosh. Tiffany looks ridiculous! The red head doesn’t even know what to say. She just stands there speechless and paler than a snowflake in a massive blizzard in Alaska.
“What’s that look suppose to mean?” Tiffany rudely asks the red head.
“Well, uhm…Ms. Collins, I don’t know how this happened and what went wrong but-“
“WHAT?! What do you mean? What went wrong?” Tiffany charges to the mirror at the end of the room. She lets out the loudest scream I have ever heard in my life. “WHAT DID YOU DO? I LOOK LIKE AN ORANGE!”
“I don’t know what happened. I put in the color you wished for but it didn’t come out right. I’m so sorry, Ms. Collins.”
“Your sorry? I don’t care if you sorry! Do you know I have a Prada show in two days! What am I suppose to do?” Tiffany starts to sob.
“The color will start to fade by then. Can I do anything to help you till then?”
“Grab my phone you loser! I need skin covering clothes. I can’t be seen like this!” The red head starts running towards the front for Tiffany’s stuff and Tiffany heads towards the bathroom. Time to get out of here. Jillian and I run out of the salon and into Jillian’s car. We are laughing uncontrollably.
“Did you see her face?” Jillian is laughing so hard you can barely understand her.
“Yes! Hahaha, that was priceless!” We try to calm ourselves down for the next minute and Jillian starts the car.
“Your house now?” Jillian asks.
“Sure,” And with that, Jillian and I drive home rocking out to “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber’s “One Time.” Oh, I’ve missed spending time with Jilly. When we get home the house is silent and my dad’s favorite Lexus isn’t in the garage. My parents must have gone out to dinner. Thank God. We get into the house and Jillian and I jump onto our brown leather couch which matches perfectly for our Spanish style home. I whip out my phone and start googling Michael Labran’s studio for their number. We decided Jillian should do all the talking. I’m not very good at acting or impersonating anything or anyone. I punch in the number from the website and it takes two rings before some lady with a cute Italian accent answers, “Hello. Michael Labran’s hair studio, this is Cindy speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hello.” Jillian says in a sophisticated English accent. “I am Tiffany Collin’s hair stylist and she has an appointment with you a little bit later.”
“Yes indeed, Miss. Is here something you need?”
“Well I just wanted you to take down some notes for Tiffany’s hair cut,” she says.
“Alright, go ahead,” Italian lady says.
“I want you to give her something daring and unusual.” Jillian says, “Maybe something short and spiky. I want her to stand out in the crowd and be remembered, okay?”
“Okay,” she says.
“Oh, and don’t ask her opinions on this. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I know what’s best for her.” Jillian thanks the lady and hangs up.
“Hahahaha, that was great, Jilly!” I exclaim. I can’t wait to see her on Sunday!
“Oh, thanks sweetie. That was pretty great if I must say so myself.” We talk and giggle about it for a couple minutes and Jillian says, “You should get your rest now, hun. We’ll go grab dinner at Mr. Chow’s and?” Jillian waits for me to add some input on the date tomorrow.
“Uhm, I could use some new refreshed highlights.” I say.
“Well then John Robert’s Salon before dinner?”
“Perfect,” I smile, “See you tomorrow, Jilly!”
“Bye!” She shouts heading out the door. I run up my stairs and into my room, I need a nice long sleep. I slip off my disguise and put on some comfy Juicy Couture Pajamas and slide into my ridiculously comfy Egyptian cotton bed. Time for Bridget’s beauty sleep.
I wake up the next morning at 10:45! I couldn’t believe it, I haven’t slept past eight in only God knows when. First time in a long time I’ve really woken up on the good side of bed. The greasy smell of bacon and sweet pancakes fill my nose when I sit up. Mom must have made breakfast for me. Aww, I climb out of bed, throw on an Alexander McQueen sweater, slip my cold feet into some comfy Ugg boots I got for Christmas and cheerfully skipped downstairs. “Good morning my beautiful mother,” I joke around.
“Good morning sweetie. Sleep well?” She’s going through something big but I can’t tell what it is.
“The best I’ve had in a really long time,” I pour some orange juice and slide down into the chair next to her. She’s looking through our old albums.
“Oh look at this Bridget!” It was me dressed up in my mom’s clothes and high heels. I have to admit, I am totally adorable. “You used to love dressing up in my clothes. We always knew you were going to end up doing something like this.” She flips to the next page and it’s me and dad fishing at the lake in Montana. “I remember those first times you went fishing with your father and you loved it so much you asked to go everyday!” She laughs, “You used to be such a nature loving girl.”
“And I still am mom.” I remind her.
“Oh sweetie, nature here is nothing like nature in Montana. We’ve all changed so much since we’ve moved here,” She looks a bit sad and closes up the album. “Bridget, your father and I went to dinner last night and we talked. He misses you, Bridget. He says he never sees you anymore with yours and his busy schedules. Plus, you guys never talk like you used to anymore.”
“Yeah mom, I know,” I say with guilt. “But after I land Prada I promise that will all change. I want to have a stronger relationship with dad, I really do.”
“Okay sweetie. I believe you,” she says with a smile. “So what are your plans for the day?”
“I’m a bit behind on cleaning so I think I’ll tidy up my room for the majority of the day. Then hit the gym and get ready for Jillian’s and mine’s date.”
“Sounds fun, I’m going to be out with some of my friends today. Are you okay being home alone?”
“Yeah, definitely! Go have fun with your gals!” I say and head up the stairs to start my plan. I ended up cleaning up the house till four, went to the gym till six and now I’m finally back home getting ready for dinner with Jilly! I take a quick shower, put on some make up and head to my closet. My closet is my favorite room in my entire house. It’s about as big my old room in Montana and holds about a million dollars of clothing and accessories. I decide to go casual with a denim Burberry blazer, check shirt and white Joe Jeans paired with my brand new pair of nude Christian Louboutin booties. I quickly grab my Kate Spade tote, car keys and drive to John Robert’s. Jillian called at last minute saying she was busy at her church organization thing so she couldn’t make it to the studio but we’ll meet up later at Mr. Chow’s. When I get there I’m greeted by the sweetest people. They all know me too well for I come in every six weeks to get my three hundred dollars highlights redone. I see John Robert himself and give him a big hug and cheek kiss. He’s a gay man with an extraordinary eye in everything. He can even pull off multicolor looking hair. “You know what I want,” I say with a wink.
“Yes I do,” John says. “I can’t believe your doing this, you’re going to look gorgeous, Bridget!” Uhh, I have no clue what he’s talking about. I get the same thing done every time but I go along with it anyway. Getting my highlights redone takes about an hour or so but it seems much quicker this time. John rinses my head and I start to sit up. I take one good look in the mirror and I can’t believe my eyes. MY HAIR IS HIGHLIGHTED BLUE!
“John! What did you do to my hair?!” I scream with tears stinging my eyes.
“Your stylist, uhm Fiona, I believe called in and said you wanted this Bridget!”
“What?! I don’t have a stylist named Fiona, her name is Linda!” Then it hit me, there could only be one person that would do this to me. Tiffany. Ugh, she’s probably trying to get back at me. Dang it! “John, can you get rid of this? I have Prada tomorrow!”
“Oh I’m so sorry Bridget. I only use high quality products. This isn’t going to wash off immediately. It’s going to take a couple of days.” My career is officially over.
“Okay, whatever. Just dry it and put it up in a ponytail for me. Can you get your assistant to go across the street and get me a fedora or something at the boutique? I need to cover my head.”
“Of course ,Bridget.” It takes about another fifteen minutes to make my hair look a little more presentable. I put on the fedora and you’re not able to see the blue so I’ll be okay for now. “Prada will give you a wig if you get it, Bridget. Don’t worry. Come back in a couple days and I’ll fix your hair for you, I’ll take care of it, I promise.” I’m so mad right now I can’t even say anything back. I just storm out of the salon. Cameras are flashing when I go out to my car. I really wish I have brought Larry with me. It’s a stressful ride for me to Mr. Chow’s. I don’t know what to do. Jillian is waiting for me at our usual table in an adorable Dior dress and Chloe shoes. She sees my bloodshot and swollen eyes from crying and immediately asks me what’s wrong.
“My hair is blue.” I say as dully as possible.
“What? How is it blue?” I whip off the fedora and Jillian goes silent. Tiffany was all she could ask. I quickly put the fedora back on when our waiters come. Jillian orders her favorite pasta and I order my usual salad. Five minutes later he returns with a delicious plate of what looks like fried rice and chicken slices.
“Oh, Ms. Ericson, someone ordered this for you,” he said placing the plate in-between Jillian and I. Mmm, how wonderful, it must be somebody I worked for who adores me. How sweet. I take a big spoonful and shove it into my mouth. Oh no, my whole body is getting insanely hot. I can feel big heavy drops of sweat sliding down my forehead.
“Oh my gosh, Bridget are you okay? You’re swelling up and getting really red!” Jillian says, “Are you allergic to something in here?” She hands me a glass of water and I take a big gulp. Then a flash of short blond hair and orange skin attracts my attention. Tiffany. She gave me a fake smile and wave. She was the one that bought me this fried rice! It has soy sauce in it and Tiffany is the only knows I have a allergic reaction to it. She found that out when I had eggrolls on set at Armani and I started swelling and sweating!
“Tiffany bought me this! She knows I’m allergic to soy sauce!” I scream at Jillian. She was about to say something when my phone started ringing. I reach into my bag to grab it, it’s Kelly. I don’t even answer before she starts talking.
“Where have you been Bridget? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you! Prada wants you right now at the studio downtown!”
“What? Right now?” I ask confused.
“Yes, they said they needed to talk to you and Tiffany immediately! Get down there now!” she screams into the phone. I pick up my bag and start getting up.
“I have to Jillian. Prada wants me and Tiffany right now,” I can see Tiffany getting up to leave too.
“Okay, I’ll take care of this. Are you sure you’re gonna be okay with the allergies?” Jillian asks concerned.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I say and leave the restaurant. On the car ride there I can only feel my face getting hotter and redder. I’m an absolute mess, how am I supposed to explain this to the Prada directors? I pull up to the nearest parking spot available and head into the store. There I see Tiffany awaiting me with her ugly orange skin and surprisingly cute short hair with the two directors. I take a seat and James Cartier, the main director starts going. He gives us both awkward glances but doesn’t even seem interested in asking us about our weird looks. He’s a bit too important to be doing that.
“Ladies, thank you for taking much interest in running for our spring runway show this season, but Karl (the other director) and I have decided that we don’t want either of you participating in it.”
No comments:
Post a Comment