CHAPTER 1
Unbelievable," Leslie Rhoads sighed.
"Well, it shouldn't be," Carlee Middleton shot back, "you'veworked long enough to get it."
"Still."
As Carlee smiled, the younger woman picked a magazineoff the desk and walked over to the office's large window.As the sunlight hit the cover, she once again shook herhead. Spotlighted in the golden haze of a New York afternoon,staring back at her from the cover was the vision of femaleperfection—natural honey blonde hair, a seductive smileframed with sensuous lips, a perfectly turned-up nose, deep,passionate blue eyes, and straight white teeth. The woman inthe photograph was the definition of iconic beauty. She hadthe face women craved, men wanted, and cosmetic surgeonstried to duplicate. She was perfect—well, as perfect as anyonecould be.
"I still can't believe it's me," Leslie exclaimed, the sun catchingthe excited sparkle in her eyes. Glancing across the cityspread out below her agent's fifty-seventh floor office balconyshe laughed, "Well, New York, this country girl has finallyarrived!"
Carlee laughed with her, letting the twenty-four-year-oldmodel soak in the excitement for a few moments and then,even while her visitor's heart was racing, she broke in, "A first-timenational cover is always so exhilarating. I remember myfirst one. What a day that was!"
The older woman's words apparently landed on deaf ears.Leslie seemed far too consumed by the image staring back ather to even realize the agent had spoken. In fact, the world hadstopped moving and time was standing still. Carlee knew thefeeling; it was as if the best of every Christmas and birthdayhad all landed in one place at the same instant. And it was allbecause of one simple photograph.
She'd been one of a dozen models chosen to compete forthis cover. None of them knew if they had the right look toget it. It was all in the hands of the CEO. The shoot had beenthree months ago, and when Leslie hadn't heard anything themodel must have figured she hadn't made the grade. But nowCarlee was giving her the proof that she was in the same leagueas the models she had idolized all her life!
Getting up from her desk, Carlee caught Leslie's eye,"Come on back down to earth, we have some new businessto talk about." Motioning to a table in the corner of the hugeoffice, she led her client over to a mass of clippings. Even asLeslie sat down, her eyes remained glued to the latest issue ofFashion Style.
"I just didn't realize how good it would feel," Leslie cooed."I mean this is me! Carlee, I owe you so much for getting methis."
"Well, kid," Carlee's voice was now dry, but the smile stillshowed on her face, "It is a start. Tonight and tomorrow you'llbe on newsstands coast to coast. Your face will be on street cornersand in airports. Millions who didn't know you existed willnow memorize this image. Women will try to duplicate yourlook and men will long to find you. That's the way this crazybusiness works. But it only works that way if we keep working.So now we need to move onto more important things. I'vegot something here that's much bigger than a single magazinecover."
Leslie stopped staring at her picture and studied her agent."What could be bigger than this?"
Carlee didn't keep her waiting for long. "Les, I've shown thefolks over at Drum Media some of your work and portfolio.They loved what they saw and they've convinced one of theirclients that you might just make the perfect girl for theirnext national ad campaign. In fact, after talking to them thismorning, I know I can get it for you. It could make your career!We're talking numbers in the six and seven figures. It could bebigger than a dozen magazine covers."
Carlee stopped for a moment to allow the young woman tograsp the magnitude of what she had just said. As she did, shelooked down into a trusting face that still harbored a great dealof innocence. No artist could have created this woman. Shewas simply one of the most beautiful creatures she had everseen. In a world full of plastic, she was the real thing, a visionof what every person thought the girl next door should looklike. Carlee had a hundred different models, and most of themwere incredibly attractive, but none of them had what this girldid. Leslie was touchable, a bit more human than all the others.There was something about her that indicated she wasmore than just a commodity. In four years of working in NewYork, she still came across as fresh, not cynical. This businesshadn't hardened her.
Just three decades before, Carlee had been considered just asperfect. She was the hot model, the one that all the men werehung up on and the girl who made millions for the agency. Butthe business of surviving on looks and nothing else had brokenher small town naïveté in a hurry. She quickly discovered herface and body were nothing more than a product without asoul. It was time to drive that lesson home to this girl as well.
"Your look is perfect right now," Carlee explained. "I knowwhat it's like to have that moment. I had and held onto it forfive years starting when I was your age. So while you mightwant to bathe in the spotlight right now, Leslie, you can't. Youhave to be cold and calculating to make it in this world. That'swhat I learned as a model and that's why I'm so good at peddlingwhat you have right now. It might sound harsh but youare a piece of meat to me."
Leslie's eyes jumped from the cover to the woman. Themodel knew time was limited. After all, Carlee had been onscores of magazine covers. She'd been the toast of New Yorkand Paris. But now, despite a couple of facelifts, the years ofliving hard and on the edge showed. Her eyes didn't glow, noteven now when she was about to have one of her models hitthe real big time. Yet, it might have been more than the years,it might have been all the sadness in her life.
Carlee had been married four times, all ending in bitterdivorces. In between the marriages had been numerous affairs,so many that she had once told Leslie she didn't remember allthe men and all the lines. There had been pills and booze,not to mention countless packs of cigarettes. And yet, she stillboasted she was one of the lucky ones. She had survived.
Moving to an end table beside a leather couch, Carlee pickedup a thirty-year-old fashion magazine. She briefly studied itbefore handing it to Leslie.
"You know who that is?" Carlee asked.
Leslie took the publication, studied the cover model's highcheekbones and deep eyes before shaking her head.
"That was Connie Creast," the agent explained. "We startedtogether and for a while she made the big bucks. So did otherswho shared the stable with me way back then. How wellI remember the names—Melody Reason, Fawn Telch, andBecca Woodcastle. Yet none of these girls are left in this business.When their looks played out, when age caught up withtheir bodies and faces, they were forced to look elsewhere. Theywere like you. This was their whole life and none of them everwent after higher educations. So all they had was a face and abody. The alternatives left to them when the camera saw theirage were so degrading, they were rarely mentioned or seen inplaces other than cheap bars or motels. You need to know that,Leslie. You need to understand that you have to make it whileyou can and invest it. Even as we speak, the clock is ticking."
Carlee stared at the young woman whose career she guided."You're different than I was when I was your age. You don'tyet realize that in this business, you are not a person—you'rea commodity. You have to grasp onto that fact! You have tounderstand that the person on that cover is not you, but ratherit is just an image! It is nothing more! As long as you can separatewhat you sell from who you are, you will be fine."
Leslie nodded. "Does this have something to do with DrumMedia?"
"This offer we just received," Carlee continued, "I can'tbegin to explain what it means to me to get this for you."
The agent sat down beside Leslie, grabbed the model'shands, and looked her squarely in the eyes. "For years, I'vedreamed of landing a big-time gig. I wanted to place someonein a campaign that could and would catch the public'simagination—something that everyone would be talkingabout. This is it! Leslie, they want you!"
Carlee smiled. "This is going to be amazing! Mike Thomasover at Drum has convinced the marketing directors at H &B to use you as the central girl in the Passion Nights perfumeads. It means great big bucks and a huge amount of exposure.Probably every morning talk show in the country will wantyou, as will magazines and newspapers. You'll be all over theInternet. You'll be the biggest face in the business.
"Consider this. These people have been looking all over theworld for over a year now, everybody has been after this job,everyone has been wondering which of the big names wouldget it, and they want you. You are going to get to replace EricaBudig."
If Carlee had expected to be greeted with a hug and a shout,she was disappointed. All she received was a blank, stunnedstare. Rather than respond, Leslie slowly got up from the tableand once again looked out into the New York afternoon. Theroom was deathly still as one woman buried herself in herthoughts and the other waited for an answer that she knewmust come.
Carlee knew that for four long years, Leslie had struggledjust to make ends meet. She had eaten cheaply, worked hard,lived in run-down apartments and almost given up a hundredtimes, and then, just in the last few months, things had begunto click. First, she had gotten a spot as the girl on the BuffaloScotch ads and then the cover of Fashion and Style. The firsttwo she had taken, one with some reservations just to get ashot at something big and the other as a way of living a dream.Now that it had happened, one of the biggest companies inthe industry wanted her, she acted as if she didn't know if shereally wanted it. Why she was so troubled by what looked likethe biggest break of her life?
