Page 5 of Worth Every Moment
My blood pressure rises.Thank God Mum can’t come.I’m pretty sure this is her version of being supportive, but it feels like crap. I loathe having her judgmental glare on me when I’m working.You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but knowing she’s out there scrutinizing me always adds an extra layer of tension I don’t need.
“Erica!”Marni, one of the new interns, rushes up to me, and I’m relieved to have a reason to stop thinking about Mum’sharsh critique. “There’s some gorgeous guy looking for you.” She fans herself with her hand. “He’s been asking where you are.” I don’t know for sure who she means—it could be any number of people—but there’s only one man who shows up reliably every single time I’m on the runway. Seb Hawkston. I glance down at my phone, swiping away Mum’s message and returning to the GIF Seb sent this morning. He sends one if he knows I’m feeling down or nervous about something. This one is a cartoon roadrunner in high heels with the wordsSTRUT YOUR STUFFpasted across it. A fizzy sensation pops in my stomach and I bite my lip to stop from smiling. But as I look back at Marni, I remember I’m supposed to be a professional. “Did you tell him I’m working?” I ask, hardening my voice. “This is not a good time.”
Marni blushes. “No. I didn’t say anything to him.” Her hands go to her cheeks. “I can’t talk to men who look like that.”
I let out a small laugh, taking pity on her because Seb used to make me feel exactly that way. “Oh, honey. You work in fashion. You’ll have to get used to it.”
She glances at the floor, the colour in her cheeks deepening. “Easy for you to say. I bet you can talk to anyone you want. You’re the most beautiful woman in the whole world.” She fans her face again, except this time I think it’s more about me than the mystery man, and I can’t help smiling. Mum might think I’m riddled with imperfections, but not everyone does.
“You’re too kind,” I say, squeezing her arm. “Relax. You can talk to anyone. You’re gorgeous. But you know that's not a prerequisite for engaging other human beings in conversation, right?”
“Oh. Yes. I know. It's just…” The poor girl turns pink all the way to her cleavage and I pass her a glass of water from my dressing table. She takes a sip, eyes wide with thanks.
My phone buzzes again.Mum. Probably pestering me to undergo some spurious treatment in the pursuit of perfection before I walk down the runway, like getting the underside of my kneecaps lasered or some shit.Nope. Not today.I lay it down on the dressing table face down so I can’t see her name flashing at me.
“Everything okay?” Marni asks as she sets the water glass back down.
I blow out a breath.I will not worry about my mother.“Yeah. We’ve got a big cosmetics launch coming up,” I explain. “It’s a bit stressful.”
She nods at the phone. “Your mum?”
Does the entire industry know about my mother? I guess we are business partners and she’salwayspoking her nose where I don’t want it.
“Yeah.” It comes out sounding too severe, but I don’t want to open up this line of questioning. I lift my foot off the ground, and the torture device masquerading as a shoe dangles from my ankle. “Can you untwist this strap?”
Marni gets on her knees and sorts the strap in seconds.
“Thank you so much,” I say with a smile.Business as usual. These shoes are insane, but I’ve never been one to complain about what I’m made to wear on the runway, and I’m not going to start now.
“Erica!” Dominic’s voice booms through the backstage hubbub as he runs towards me, sending Marni scampering in fear. Poor kid. She’s going to need tougher skin if she’s going to make it in this industry. “You look exquisite. Perfect.”
Perfect.Sometimes it feels like all anyone needs from me is perfection.Who would stick by me if I fell short?
He blows me a kiss, even though our mouths are only a few inches apart. With trembling hands, he picks at a few strands of my hair and tweaks the tulle collar I’m wearing. Excitementbuzzes off him. He’s high on the near success of this show and his pupils are blown wide with it. I’ve been at this long enough to know that Dominic’s work is something special. Everyone at London Fashion Week is going to be talking about this collection, and I’m the model wearing the key pieces.
He steps back to observe his work, drawing his chin in and letting out a sigh of appreciation. “I’m blessed to have the great Erica Lefroy as my muse. I cannot believe you’re single, darling.”
“No one’s good enough,” I joke.
“I’ll say.” He lifts his hands to cup my face but stops as he takes in my makeup.Can’t mess that up.His hands fall. “Wonderful. Go make me proud.”
Still smiling, I say, “I’ll do my best.”
Dominic moves away to micro-manage the other models. The music is thumping and I can feel it in my feet through the shoes. I imagine all those people out there in the audience. The rows of celebrities and high net worth individuals taking in the show and deciding what they want to buy. Or the fashion journalists and social media influencers planning their write up.
Reappearing at my side, Marni grips my arm, her voice rising two octaves as she squeaks right in my ear, “That’s him.” With her free hand, she points towards the door where there’s a kerfuffle of sorts occurring. She emits another tiny squeal, and the hand that’s wrapped about my arm tightens like a tourniquet.
As I look closer, I realise it’s not so much a kerfuffle as an energetic ripple. Whoever has entered is drawing a lot of attention, and the models, assistants, and hair stylists are smiling and nudging one another, greeting the newcomer.
The crowd parts and I catch sight of the person causing the disturbance.Seb Hawkston.Right on schedule and dressed, as usual, in a navy suit that reeks of cash. The fabric is molded to his form, and beneath it is a pressed white shirt and pale blue tie.There’s a timepiece on his wrist that probably cost as much as a London starter flat.
But his face… that’s why everyone’s excited. There are handsome men, and then there’s Seb Hawkston in a league all of his own. Sharp cheekbones, blue eyes so bright they could illuminate the night sky, and a strong jaw with just the right amount of scruff on it.
Poor Marni hasn’t been around for long enough to know he turns up at all my shows, but the other models know, and they’re not concealing their enthusiasm. Arms are thrown around his neck, kisses pressed to his cheeks, and he’s all smiles and kind words, giving them each the attention they deserve. I bet they feel really special for the brief moment that his focus falls on them. He’s like Midas, but rather than gold, the merest touch turns women all gooey, falling hopelessly in love with him. I know because plenty of them have asked me about him.Is he available? Can I ask him out? Do you mind if I do?I always try and warn them off because he’ll never take any of them seriously. It’s not his thing, and I don’t want to be responsible for anybody’s heartbreak.
He’s carrying the biggest bouquet of white lilies I’ve ever seen. Dominic will lose his shit when he sees them.Are they for me?I hate to admit it, but if he hands them off to someone else, I’ll be devastated. Jealous is the word that springs to mind, but I push it away. I can’t be jealous because of Seb. He’s myfriend. I have no claim on him, and I wouldn’t want to have one.Would I?
“Lefroy.” His voice is deep, and it causes a tremor somewhere behind my breastbone that I refuse to acknowledge. I want to be annoyed that he’s not treating my work with the respect it deserves by showing up right before I’m about to go on, but the sight of his gorgeous face and that one-sided dimple, which only deepens as he takes me in, has my lips twitching to break into a smile. I can’t even pretend to be annoyed that he’s here.
