The Passion Agency (7 page)

Peter Dewalk was a man of mystery. Donna didn’t try
too hard to peel back the veil as they walked for nearly two more
hours. Nightfall began to creep on the makeshift walking trail in
the parking lot of the former home of the world famous Los Angeles
Lakers.

She figured she’d learn what she needed to about him
in due time. She was much more interested in how he was figuring
out these things about her.

With nothing really useful in her mind about what to
do next, her approach was to have no approach at all. To really pay
attention. To listen and absorb. The fresh perspective was the
underlying theme of the day.

Donna was happy to gamble a few minutes of her time
that Peter could help her continue on the journey that began
earlier in the day with her unlikely meeting with Paul the
panhandler.

“Let me ask you this Donna?” Peter asked. “Why aren’t
you making big money out there. I know people that have done it in
all fields. They have this quality about interacting with the
world. They project something without even trying. It’s an
openness. It’s a way of not judging but rather looking for ways to
contribute.”

“Its funny you should say that,” Donna said. “This
homeless guy in Carson today…”

Pete jumped in unexpectedly.

“Oh you met Paul,” he said, his breathing starting to
become more labored as he apparently was trying to increase his
pace.

“What?” Donna said, unable to hide her surprise.

“Never mind,” Peter said smiling. “It’s not
important.”

He paused then began to speak again.

“You know something?” He asked. “You out of literally
hundreds of people every day I enoucnter here, you were one of the
rare ones to take an interest in me and come talk to me. We don’t
talk to strangers you know. Not any more. Strangers are bad and
scary. That’s what we’re taught. Why did you talk to me?”

“Hmmm,” Donna contemplated out loud. “I guess I was
curious. It’s been a strange day. I came here to think, like you
said. I came here for more answers. I have been on a role with them
today. Coming at me from all different directions. Not sure why. I
sense I am at a turning point with everything, but I don’t know a
damn thing about how to make money without punching someone else’s
time clock.”

“Ahh that last sentence,” Peter said. “The truth
comes out. Pretty frightening. I mean you could fail if you step
out. Lose everything you have, even if it isn’t much. Right?”

“Yes!” Donna answered excitedly. “I don’t know where
to start. I don’t know the steps after I start. I don’t know. It’s
the same emptiness over and over again.”

“It’s interesting that we haven’t talked about men or
a particular man,” Peter noted accurately. “Why is that?”

“I figured out that the success I want isn’t about
the man who finds me,” she said. “I don’t know what it is. But for
better or for worse, the outcomes with men aren’t driving this. If
anything, I am trying to do this for me. That’s where I am at in
life. I think that’s a good thing?”

“Just guard against making too many conclusions on
things like that,” Peter said. “It’s not men or love. It’s the
quality of people you share it with. The right person or people can
make a massive difference for you towards your goals. Especially
trying to corner the business world.”

It finally occurred to Donna to ask.

“Have you ever been in business?” Donna asked
carefully picking a tone which made it clear she wasn’t doubting
him.

“I think the way to answer that question is let’s us
keep talking,” Peter said. “Trust me. I mean I am not going
anywhere fast. Look at me. It may not be fast but I am actually
going.”

Just then, a black Cadillac, probably a model from
the mid-2000s pulled up. It had tinted windows. No one emerged from
the car to help Peter in any way. When he saw the car veer off
Manchester to the curbside he immediately broke route and shuffled
his way there.

“OK, this is where we say goodbye,” Peter said kindly
and with a clear understanding that she wasn’t invited to help him
to the car.”I have this friend you should visit. There’s a plastic
surgery clinic in Compton. Ask around and you’ll get the details
about it. Go there. You’ll get a big time business education
fast.

Remember it’s always about the big idea and then
marketing it some how, some way. The messenger is critical. I am
betting you’ve already been told you are a heck of a messenger.
Whoever said it, I agree. I don’t know what your idea is and it
doesn’t much matter. Go to the clinic. Don’t mention me or
anything. Just go there. Bring that same open mind that brought you
here today. See yah Donna. Until we meet again.”

Donna noticed she was totally alone as the sun sank
down the horizon to the west and slightly south. There were other
walkers in sight.

Suddenly the air and the realization of the level of
work this climb to prosperity would be, seemed very cold.

…

“We aren’t getting any market edge here,” Andrew
Symington said to his exhausted agency reps. “Where are the
supermodels? The game changing talents like we used to find and
get. If we are getting that lazy just getting by on our big name
and Beverly Hills address, than we’re finished. Here’s the thing, I
won’t let that happen without a fight. I’ll lop off heads here
first. Get some people in here with hunger and vision. My God
people. We used to define beauty and then everyone followed.”

With that, he calmly and with determined
self-assurance got up and walked out the door leaving eight
suddenly very fearful people there to talk it out.

This was becoming a more and more typical scene.In
fact, it was happening weekly, if not more frequently at Symington
International Models. The 80s and 90s saw the agency represent the
face for no fewer than 10 worldwide corporate brands as well as
bring the lead face down the catwalk at a majority of the shows for
the major fashion designers of the world every year, In a business
where tastes and trends shifted in mid-season, the Symington
monicker represented a true steady giant in the industry.

Then the new millenium and a thing called the
internet changed everything.

“We keep signing talent,” Marika Flint, head scout
for North America, “Just fewer and fewer people are interested. It
means more to have obnoxious cows with no talent like Kim
whatshername plugging your clothing or product than it does, some
rare beauty. I don’t know what the answers are. The problem has
been steadily building for years. Maybe the whole thing is like the
newspaper industry.”

“We need to adjust what we consider beautiful and be
on the forefront of that,” Kristy Travis, the account executive
with the least seniority chimed in. “The internet is the internet.
It’s widened our definition of beauty. We need to be more pop
conscious now. I know we have this name and we’re in Beverly Hills,
but if we can’t sell like we used to, we need to find a way to
start. If the old ways aren’t working, do some fresh things. Maybe
some strategies we never would have done back when Christie and
Beverly ruled the modeling world. The traditional models can’t lead
and define beauty any more. The public is too savvy. We’re trying
to sell them a horse and carriage and they know about the car.”

“Go on Kristy,” Marika said.

“Well what if we made natural beautiful and went
against the idea that you have to have make-up,” Kristy said. “We
could align ourselves with social media and underground products
that use the natural beauty model. Even get on the other side of
the growing rumblings about the beauty myth. Remake ourselves into
the future. The “natural agency”.

Everyone took notes furiously with their heads down
as Kristy spoke. A big idea was being hatched. An idea that needed
a messenger to introduce it.

But ultimately ended up being idea that never left
the room that day at the Symington Agency of Beverly Hills. Gone.
Like Kristy Travis. Although she managed to hang to her job another
week.

How did she make it that long? No one knew.

...

Across the country, a 16 year-old girl living in the
southern reaches of Columbus, Ohio, named Rachel Evans was picking
up ten thousand new hits a day every day on her videos showing the
cartoonish transformation of women when they had make-up applied
professionally. Her fan base was expanding from every corner of the
world. She already had her own podcast where she talked about the
pressures on young and old women to look like what the celebrities
didn’t actually look like themselves.The Channel on the video site
was called BeautyLies.

Chapter 11--Perceptions

That night, Donna Casteel figured it was time to do
something, anything really. She didn’t look to get over to Compton
despite Peter's suggestion. She never even thought about.

She returned home after what could only be described
as a truly amazing day. When she got into the house, the fear crept
in. She was again worried about money. As well she should have
been. She didn’t have any coming in.

Her daughter said she had a job but that could mean
anything for any amount. There wasn’t any sort of definite amount
Donna could count on.

So she did what she didn’t think she would do while
she was walking and talking with Peter. She picked up her cell
phone and placed a call to Malcolm, the overweight unhealthy white
skinned lawyer who had made a move on her after her interview for
the legal assistant’s job a few hours earlier.

“Yeah hi,” he said when she called. “I live out in
Palos Verdes. Why don’t you stop out, see the place, we’ll have a
drink? Talk about the job.”

Donna was proud of herself, but understood the sexual
dynamic in the work place. She looked at it as reality.

This was an opportunity she was getting, which she
could take or leave.

She didn’t have to be asked again or enticed any
further.

She hopped in the shower and put on her best form
fitting jeans and and white dress shirt with a black tank top
underneath. She threw on some black boots and put her hair up. In a
near record time she was off to Palos Verdes.

Malcom Bradley's home was nestled back in the hills
rising up off the ocean. It was an area generally inhabited by lots
of Laker players in their day. Most of the real estate in the
neighborhood was in the $2 million range to start out.

Bradley's place was on the lower end in size and
scale, but still quite nice. It had a Spanish mission style look
with orange/brown tile roof, a three car garage, and well-manicured
desert style landscaping.

Donna drove up in her early 2000s Ford Focus and felt
out of place.

She relaxed a bit when the thought popped into her
head “This is the house I thought I would be getting when I started
going out with Chris.”

The walkway went up a few steps to the front door
which was solid hardwood and at least twelve foot tall. It seemed
overly grandiose for a smaller one-story home.

Before Donna could knock, she heard a voice from
behind it.

“Hold on Ms. Casteel,” he called out. “I am coming.
Gimme a second.”

The door unhinged and it sounded like he was
disengaging multiple locks. It swung open to reveal the balding and
still mostly unattractive Malcolm Bradley.

But thinking back, which Donna would do from time to
time, Darry was no great looker either. Donna made a baby with him
and was fully convinced it would be only them together forever.

This guy though, there was something sort of seedy
about him. That’s the way she always perceived lawyers. She had
been around them enough, including her friend of a friend Carl, to
know that they ultimately didn’t create anything but mayhem and in
many cases misery.

She had an immediate feeling pop into her head
questioning why she was here. It wasn’t that she felt any danger or
that she couldn’t handle herself physically with this man.

It was a feeling that she gave up too early.

The Compton thing Peter brought up seemed like so
much non-sense. A plastic surgery clinic?

“Hi,” she said uncharacteristically shyly. “I
appreciate the invite.”

“Come in,” he said without much feel of romance in
the cadence, but decidedly less formal than when they met at the
office earlier in the day. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

“Oh no,” Donna thought to herself. “Even this creep
thought I had more on the ball than to actually go through with
whoring myself to a total stranger. I couldn’t feel more weak right
now.”

Donna only smiled and said: “Why do you say
that?”

“Well, we only just met,” Bradley said. “Plus you are
so lovely, I figured some man had scooped you up already. I am so
glad that’s not the case.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her into
the main room. The place was gorgeous and decorated in a much more
minimalist fashion than what she had anticipated. There were rich
tiles everywhere. There was also some beautiful tasteful art that
Donna vaguely recognized from a class she had attended one weekend
at a local community college when she had thoughts of maybe going
into museum work.