Etoile (The Mannequin Series) (16 page)

“Where is Lana?” Elodie asked after noticing that the perky Russian was nowhere to be seen.

“She left with Kris,” Lauren replied distractedly as she burrowed her head into Elodie's bony shoulder.

“And who is Kris?”

Klara made her best attempt at straightening her drunken stance. “He is very hot,” she offered as Mira groaned next to her.

“He's another model we hang out with. He shot a Dazed & Confused editorial, you know,” Lauren explained as she took in deep breaths of fresh air.

Elodie pursed her lips as she smoothed Mira's messy hair. “Well, you girls said you wanted tips from an old lady like me,” she began. “Here is one: find yourself a good boy and avoid male models if you can,” she said quietly as the image of James' face came up in her thoughts. She watched Tyler's back as he secured the girls a taxi.

“They are never good news.”

Twenty

“Shit, I'm so late!” a tiny voice called out from the whirlwind of blonde hair that came hurtling into the room, her Isabel Marant sneaker wedges squeaking violently against the heavily polished floor. A bored intern continued to smoke on the balcony without even bothering to greet the Rick Owens-clad
enfant terrible
who had just tumbled in.

Elodie looked up from the stiff corner wingback chair in which she had been sitting for the past hour, nursing a cup of black coffee that had long since cooled. It seemed as if she had been one of the few people who had actually arrived in a timely manner for the 8 AM call time, as it was now half past 9 and the atelier was still mostly empty.

“Fuck me!” Mia called out as she threw her giant battered Goyard tote onto one of the drafting tables, knocking off a bunch of sketchbooks and a half-finished pattern. The angry sound of heaving beading hitting the wooden floor echoed throughout the empty, cave-like room as two bottles of prescription pills rolled out of the bag and rattled to a stop on the floor. A pair of aloof design assistants who had been hunched over an adjacent drafting table shook their heads in disapproval at the sudden cacophony that disturbed the once hauntingly peaceful environment.

“Oh shit!”

As Mia scrambled to pick up the likely priceless couture piece before anyone important could scold her, Elodie glanced at her phone for the hundredth time. As expected, its blank screen taunted her with its ever-present blackness.

Where the hell was Tyler?

It wasn't like they had stayed out late—she had ended up in bed before midnight. And that was
after
she had assisted Lauren in throwing up the entire contents of her stomach into the toilet after her wild night out. “Oh my God, I'm never drinking again,” the young girl had wailed as Elodie helped to tie up her thick brown hair.

Had he gone out again afterwards? If so, with whom? Elodie tapped her foot impatiently against the glossy wooden floor, annoyed with herself for even caring. So what if he had? Why did it even matter to her?

A feeling of loneliness filled her as she thought of James. She wondered what he was doing right at that very moment. According to her calculations, it was roughly 3:30 AM on Saturday morning in New York. Was he out? Was he sleeping? Was he thinking of her too? Didn't he know that he could still text her in Paris? she questioned grumpily. She slumped low in her seat, frustrated with the world and everything in it.

“Good, no one's here yet!” Mia cried out cheerfully as she shuffled towards Elodie, breaking the sullen girl's thoughts. “Did anyone come by? No, right? Good. I totally tried to make it on time, but everything was against me today! My bangs just would
not
behave, and then the stupid coffee-making person made me a
skim
latte instead of a half-caf
soy
latte! Why does no one speak English around here? God! Anyway, you look
so
good! Love your shoes! Wang? Those are so hot! Where's Ty?”

“I have no idea,” Elodie muttered as she nodded and gave Mia a smile. “I have just been waiting here.”

“Hm. He probably had a crazy night out! That boy,” Mia said with a laugh, unaware of the scowl that flashed across Elodie's face at the proposition.

“We can do you first, then! I'm thinking Game-of-Thrones-meets-chic-goth-zombie-at-Art-Basel. And
not
Miami Art Basel, I'm talking
Switzerland
Art Basel. Ooh, so hot,” Mia babbled as she grabbed the coffee cup out of Elodie's hands and pulled the young model out of the chair. “INTERN!” she bellowed out in the direction of the balcony.

The young girl named Hélène sulked over at a snail's pace, her ombre hair swishing lightly as she made her way across the room. Mia handed the morose girl the coffee cup and patted her on the head. “Thank you, intern!” she chirped as Hélène grumbled and slumped away.

“So, we have five looks for you for the campaign images, and a bunch of other outfits that we need to shoot for the lookbook. It's going to be a long day! Where's the makeup girl? Is the photographer here?”

Elodie shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. A pensive look clouded Mia's scrunched face as her eyes darted rapidly around the room. Her face lit up in recognition as she noticed the cluttered rack of dresses that had been set up in the corner. “Okay, let's get you fitted! Did you see Margot yet?”

Once again, Elodie had no idea. Mia let out a huff as she loudly whined, “Do I have to do everything around here?”

She motioned for Elodie to disrobe, holding up a beautiful cream jacket with an exaggerated cut, thick embossed paneling and intricate beading all around. “This is major,” Mia breathed out as Elodie nodded in agreement. The two paused to silently pay their respects to the work of art before the flitty stylist handed Elodie the matching pair of shorts. After some lengthy consideration, she also passed the model a flimsy black lace triangle bra, a pale blue silk tank and black platform booties.

Elodie stripped down to her underwear and changed into the garments, as the gay male design assistants paid her bare body no attention. Once she was in the completed look, Mia backed away and admired her handiwork. “
So
perfect,” Mia cooed as she fanned Elodie's hair behind her back. “Fits you like a glove! We won't even have to make adjustments!”

Just then, Tyler came sauntering into the room wearing Illesteva sunglasses and a cocky smile on his face, seemingly unaware of the fact that he was two hours late. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed and pulled on his wrinkled black tee shirt, skinny jeans and Lanvin sneakers, though he had somehow found the time to pick up Starbucks on the way.

“Nice,” he said as he circled Elodie, not bothering to take off his sunglasses indoors.

“Very nice,” a voice called out as the owner's footsteps echoed throughout the room. Mia's body stiffened visibly as Clément, Ero's creative director, and Margot, his subordinate, walked towards them. “Olivier will be very pleased,” he continued in a thick French accent, referring to the fashion house's notoriously persnickety CEO.

“Told you so,” Tyler chimed in like a proud little boy as he threw his sunglasses onto the nearby chair. A smile magically appeared on Margot's frosty face and Clément laughed appreciatively.

“Me too,” Mia squeaked out as they ignored her.

Elodie stood still as Margot circled her like a shark, straightening out the sleeves of the jacket and pulling the shorts down about half a centimeter. “Perfect,” the stern-faced woman commented with a nod.

The next five hours flew by as Elodie modelled the matching dresses, sweaters and various pieces in the collection for the two stone-faced designers. Tyler was dressed in the slim suits and separates that made up the simplistic Ero Homme collection for that same season. Mia and Baptiste, the other stylist, worked nonstop to create hundreds of possible looks for Clément and Margot to choose from, bending over backwards to gain their approval. In all of the frenzy, Elodie and Tyler had zero opportunities to interact, let alone watch what the other was even doing.

Once the photographer arrived, they shot the looks separately in the corner of the atelier against the ornately paneled walls, with both of the models' cheekbones contoured to sunken perfection with thick layers of bronzer and highlighter. Once the last blinding flash was reflected off of the umbrellas that were crowded around the stifling corner in which Elodie had been posing, she let out a sigh of relief. As she carefully climbed out of that final look and into her own black Vanessa Bruno dress, her stomach grumbled mercilessly as her feet seared with pain.

Clément and Margot didn't acknowledge her as she walked past them, searching the room for the makeup artist, who was nowhere to be found. Great, she thought wearily as she picked up her Céline bag and waved goodbye to Mia and Hélène. Now she had to go home with all of that makeup caked on her face. Taking one last look around the studio, she noticed that there was no sight of Tyler, who must have finished before she had.

Once she stepped out of the doors, she realized just how weak she felt after the long and arduous day. The sun was setting as evening drew near, and she was exhausted. With heavy lids, she walked out onto the sidewalk and pulled out her phone to summon her driver.

“Could you have taken any longer?” Tyler asked as he approached her from behind, his hands playfully grabbing at her waist. Elodie squealed in surprise as she jumped away nervously. “I waited for like an hour out here. You owe me a pack of cigarettes,” he whined as he grabbed her hand.

Elodie tried to pull her hand away, but he wrapped his fingers tightly around her own. “I am not in the mood, Tyler,” she pleaded as she gave him a pout. “I just want to go back to my bed and lay down.”

“You have to eat dinner anyway,” Tyler said, swinging her hand as he led her in the direction of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. “Or drink it, at least.”

Though Elodie wanted to protest, she kept her mouth shut as she knew he was right. Even she knew when calories were necessary. As if he had been expecting her to reject his proposal yet again, he looked over at her with a bemused expression before turning back ahead with a big grin on his face.

Once they made it onto the busy street, Tyler continued to pull her past the crowds as he complained about how tight the suits had been and how one of the male design assistants had continuously made moves on him throughout the day. “Do I look gay to you?” he asked bitterly as he led her across the giant crosswalk and past a lively cafe. What they passed next made Elodie feel sick to her stomach.

The theatrically gilded pistachio green facade of the infamous Ladurée on the Champs Élysées leered at her, as if it were disapproving of whose hand she was holding as she made her way down the most romantic street in world. Just glancing at the storefront brought back memories of how James had taken her there when she had told him of how she was homesick for France, and how he had bought her the very first macarons that she had ever tried. Thinking of James suddenly made her miss him again, and she felt extremely guilty for traipsing around Paris with Tyler like this behind his back. Not that she was enjoying it, of course.

Tyler noticed her looking into the brightly lit windows with the sad look on her face and scoffed. “Don't even think about it,” he blurted out warily. “Do you know how many carbs are in one of those things? Margot would kill you.”

Elodie couldn't help but laugh at how she had once silently screamed the exact same thing at herself. Tyler shook his head as he finally let go of her hand to hail a taxi from that corner. A gaggle of British teenagers who had been standing nearby gawked at him, whispering excitedly as they surreptitiously snapped photos on their phones, all the while glaring daggers at Elodie.

“Where are we going?” she asked him curiously, trying her best to ignore their wrath.

Tyler gave her a sneaky smile as he opened the door to the taxi that had pulled up next to them. “You ask too many questions,” he complained as he gestured for her to climb in. “But Charlie took the train in from London, and he has a surprise for you.”

Twenty-one

“What's going on with you two?” Heddi asked, smoothing out a wrinkle in her silky white Helmut Lang top as Elodie fixed her hair in the bathroom mirror.

The surprise that Charlie had brought with him from London was none other than the statuesque Heddi, Elodie's Danish roommate. The two had apparently been shipped over with a bunch of other models for a last-minute spread in i-D Magazine, and had made the trek to Paris to end their short trip to Europe with a bang.

When Charlie and Heddi had arrived to meet them at the sleek Italian-Japanese fusion lounge that Tyler had taken Elodie to in the 2
nd
arrondissement, the squealing and fussing that ensued belied the fact that the two girls had seen each other just two days prior. It was obvious that they, too, had also come straight from their shoot, as Charlie's dusty blonde hair was theatrically teased and Heddi's chocolate brown locks had seemingly been straightened on an ironing board.

The four shared a skimpy dinner of wedges of cheese and bits of meat with large undressed salads, choosing instead to splurge on calories via bottles of wine and artisanal cocktails. As Elodie's thoughts became clouded by the sheer amount of alcohol that she had imbibed in, she barely noticed as Tyler drew her closer to himself on the velvet bench on which they were seated, his hand resting lightly against her hip as he leaned back and spoke loudly with Charlie.

Heddi, of course,
had
noticed. And, once the two were safely in the bathroom of the stylish nightclub down the street, she made it a point to ask her friend about all of the details. They were, after all, 19-year old girls, and we all know what 19-year old girls do best during lengthy bathroom breaks.

Elodie paused as she turned away from the lighted mirrors, trying her best to keep a straight face as she looked Heddi in the eyes. “Nothing,” she answered firmly as a drunken girl pushed her way behind her to get to the chrome sink.

With a snort, Heddi shot her friend an incredulous stare. “Please,” she began in her faint Danish accent as she threw her scrawny arm around Elodie's shoulders. “I am not blind and I wasn't born yesterday. Tati and I always suspected something!”

“Really, nothing,” Elodie said simply as they made their towards the door. “He is just like that.”

“He is not,” Heddi insisted. “My friend, Malou, you remember her? She has been trying to snatch him since last year, and he never even gave her the time of day! But he even introduced himself to you, you remember? I think he likes you. He's definitely cuter than what's-his-name.”

“They are different,” Elodie replied with a frown as the image of James popped up in her head. “Besides, I can tell that Tyler is trouble.”

As they made their way back to their table, Heddi let go of Elodie's shoulders and grabbed her friend's hand. “I don't know,” she yelled over the loud techno music as Parisian men in too-tight Dior Homme suits watched them pass. “The other one sounds more like trouble to me. You can never trust the good guys!”

James? Trouble? Elodie squinted at Heddi as she gave her a goofy smile and shook her head. No way. Heddi must be terribly drunk, she thought to herself as they stumbled back towards the table. Or she was just very, very bitter about having recently found out that her long-distance boyfriend had been cheating on her with a 16-year old bulimic ballerina for the past three months.

As they approached their spot in the corner of a dimly lit faux tunnel, Elodie saw that a group of five snooty Parisian girls had parked their bony derrieres on the benches while Charlie talked animatedly to them. Tyler, on the other hand, was ignoring the thin blonde who was speaking to him, merely nodding his head distractedly as he checked something on his phone. Elodie couldn't help but cattily think that the girl desperately needed a nose job and a hair trim.

Even after the two towering models arrived at the edge of the table, the girls didn't budge, though they did squirm. Tyler looked up at Elodie and gave her a pleading look before nodding in the direction of the oblivious girl next to him and rolling his eyes. Heddi poked Elodie's waist, as if she were silently declaring, “Told you so.” Elodie slapped her hand away.

With a bored look on his face, Tyler balled up one of the black napkins on the table and threw it at Charlie. “Go get us drinks,” he grumbled loudly as Charlie looked up to where Heddi and Elodie were standing. Taking his cue, he gestured to the French girls. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?” he asked charmingly over the music as he signaled to the bar.

The four girls rose up from the seats after giving the new arrivals the once-over, and followed the charismatic male model in the direction of the gold-plated bar. The blonde sitting next to Tyler, however, didn't budge, still regaling him with a story about Paris Fashion Week parties in a thick accent. “I think your friends went that way,” he said obnoxiously as he scooted her over and pulled Elodie down next to him.

With a look of disbelief, the jilted girl rose up in a huff and walked away, trying to play off her embarrassment. Heddi shot Tyler a knowing look as she slowly got up as well. “I think I will go and make sure that Charlie makes it back,” she said in a singsong voice as she left the two alone.

“I'm bored,” Tyler said as he played with a strand of Elodie's golden hair. She leaned back in the chair and let out a big sigh, as her tired body was currently overwhelmed by how much she had drunk and how little she had eaten. After tucking that stray piece of hair behind her ear, Tyler grabbed Elodie by the waist and pulled her closer. “Let's go home,” he whispered as he nuzzled into her neck.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as she felt his warm breath on her collarbone, and she didn't have the energy to back away. He dropped his hand from her waist and onto her thigh, moving his thumb slowly back and forth over the thin fabric of her dress. “Come on,” he pleaded as he lifted his head to look at her with a mischievous smirk. “I'll play with you this time.”

Elodie swallowed the lump in her throat as she pulled away from his hold. Heddi was right—he really was one of the cutest boys she had ever met. “Charlie and Heddi are coming back,” she used as an excuse, motioning in the direction of their approaching friends. Tyler wrinkled his nose at her as he sat up straight. “You're no fun,” he pouted as she straightened the hem of her dress and willed her cheeks to stop burning.

“Here you go, your majesty,” Charlie announced theatrically as he shoved a whiskey cocktail towards Tyler, who grabbed it with a big grin. “Your highness,” Charlie said as he handed Elodie an identical drink. “Thanks,” she told him as he and Heddi plunked down across from them.

Elodie looked wearily at the contents of the glass, unsure of if drinking it would be a good idea. Her friends, however, made that decision for her, as Charlie lifted his glass up and the others followed suit. With a hearty clink, they cheers-ed to their night out and each took a big gulp. Elodie couldn't help but wince as the cool liquid left a burning trail in her throat, the noxious fumes rising up from the glass and stinging her nose.

“Charlie!” an American female's voice excitedly called out from a few yards away. Elodie turned from her glass and saw that it belonged to none other than Caroline Matheson, the current darling of the fashion world. She was the kind of girl for whom everything happened effortlessly, from booking every single high-profile campaign to walking in the best of shows, all the while serving as a muse to the most important designers. In fact, Olivier had originally wanted to cast
her
for the Ero campaign before Tyler had convinced him to pick Elodie for the job instead.

The perky model came bouncing over, baring her pearly white teeth in a dazzling smile as her glossy chocolate brown hair bounced on her shoulders. Even when outfitted plainly in a tissue-thin white tee shirt and dark skinny jeans, she sparkled. Elodie looked over to Heddi and saw that she, too, was not amused.

“I didn't know you were in Paris!” she exclaimed as she gave him a big hug. “I just came to take a break. Heading off to Saint-Tropez with the girls tomorrow!”

Charlie gave the bubbly girl a friendly grin back. “Shit, you should all drink with us! The more the merrier!”

Caroline nodded enthusiastically as she motioned her two friends over. Elodie recognized the pair of socialite it-girls from profiles in fashion magazines and articles on Page Six. As expected, all three of the newcomers didn't bother to acknowledge Elodie and Heddi as they exchanged air-kisses with Charlie.

“Hi, Tyler,” Caroline cooed in a taunting voice as she plopped down on the other side of him. “Long time, no see!”

“Hey,” he greeted her with a tight smile as her friends sat down on the bench that Charlie had dragged over. He barely glanced at her as he took a long sip from his glass.

“Aw, you're not still mad at me, are you?” Caroline asked with big eyes as she punched him playfully on the arm. “You're cute when you pretend to be angry,” she added as she poked his cheek.

"Not pretending!" he announced obnoxiously, which, for some odd reason, caused Caroline to burst into a fit of giggles. "You're so funny," she cried out as she continued to chortle like an insane hyena with flippy brown hair. Each laugh rang in Elodie's drunken ears, prompting her to ponder about how she had never heard such eardrum-piercing giggles before.

Elodie downed the rest of her drink, as she suddenly felt extremely annoyed. Sensing this, Heddi jumped up from her seat and grabbed Elodie's hand. “We can go smoke, yea?” she suggested with a knowing smile as she lifted her friend up. Before anyone could notice or react, the Danish giant was leading them away from the awkward situation.

“So nothing is going on, hm?” Heddi teased as they made their way towards the bar.

Elodie felt the tips of her ears grow hot. “I do not know what you are talking about. It was just uncomfortable. Her laugh drives me crazy.”

“Mm-hmm. This drink is on me,” she told Elodie as she patted her on the head and motioned to a bartender.

But it wasn't, and neither were the next few. A small group of American tourists insisted on buying the pair of pretty models multiple rounds of overpriced cocktails, and Elodie had no problem with it. For some reason, she wanted to flirt with as many cute boys as possible as her thoughts grew fuzzier and her lids even heavier.

A cute screenwriter from Los Angeles, whose name was David, or Devon, or Dylan, had her cornered after one-too-many glasses of fruity cocktails, and Elodie humored him with lots of arm grazing and eyelash batting. Truth be told, he looked a bit like James, and Elodie was drunkenly using him as a sort of stand-in for the young banker, who she truly did miss. Meanwhile, Heddi had been holding court in the smoking room for the past hour, having captivated the attentions of his two friends.

“So do you make it to New York a lot?” Elodie asked in a breathy voice as she gave her best attempt at a flirtatious smile. DavidDevonDylan was grinning from ear to ear as he shook his head no. “I definitely have a reason now, though,” he replied as he pulled out his phone to get her number.

Before she could recite it for him, Elodie felt a tug on her arm. She spun around to face Tyler, who definitely did not look happy.

“What are you doing?” he asked in an annoyed tone. “You two just disappeared and never came back.”

Elodie squinted her eyes to focus on his furrowed brow. “You guys were busy.
I
am busy here with David.”

“Dylan,” the tan blonde corrected her.

“Yes, Dylan,” Elodie corrected with a dismissive wave. “It is okay, I am
fine
.”

Tyler cocked his head to the side. “How much did you drink this time?”

“Who is this guy?” Dylan interrupted, only to be ignored by both of them.

“Do not worry about
me.
You can go back to the table. I am sure that you would
love
that,” she drawled out, trying her best not to slur her words. Why was the room spinning all of a sudden?

With an exasperated sigh, Tyler turned to Elodie's new friend and said, “I'm sorry, but my wife is very drunk and I need to take her home now. Sorry for any trouble that she caused you.”