Erica’s Office – Fashion Editor
Trapsing down the corridor, still wearing her rehearsal outfit and with a sweat bag draped over one shoulder, Simone was looking to catch up with her flat mate and best friend Erica, who should have been in her office at this time of day, and hopefully not on one of those exhausting lunches of hers. Reaching the reception area, Simone whipped off her sunglasses and stared lazily at Erica’s assistant, Patty.
“Erica in?” Simone asked, picking up a fashion show flyer and flipping it over before letting it fall from her fingers.
“She’s on a call to New York, but I am sure she will be happy to see you, Miss Jackson.”
“Good…bring in a bottle of bolly when you can, and…cancel her appointments for the next hour. She and I need to chat.”
Not waiting to be given the green light, Simone swanned on past the startled assistant’s desk and without knocking, she entered Erica’s office. Sitting behind a large oak desk, Erica was on a call, her small ear piece blinking away as she spoke with animated hands…or as Simone liked to call them, “magic fingers” This call must have been quite important.
“Names!…names…Names!…Givenchy, Dior, Langerfield…dahling. I want the big ones. All of them. Models…yes?…I want them to look like they just stepped off a plane from Africa and have been starving for six months. Can’t sell fashion to cows…now can we? We are Vogue…and I won’t settle for B list bloody models that not even Ford agency will look at. Got me?…Hmm..Hmm…Right, call me back when you have it sewn up. Chow.”
At this point, she spotted Simone, who had just flopped down in Erica’s couch.
“I thought you had rehearsals, Simmy.”
“Did…and..yes, that was cut short due to a terrible tragedy.”
At the word, tragedy, Erica sat bolt upright. “Someone die?’
“Not quite…but they could have.” Simone said, taking off her glasses and tossing them in her sports bag, as Patty brought in a bottle of Bollinger champagne and two glasses. Simone made a cute cat like grin as the young assistant set down the tray and Simone started helping herself. She was not about to spill her guts in front of the young girl, who she imagined would face book anything said. Popping the champagne as the girl left the room, Simone added with a dead pan expression. “Tea trolley lady poisoned the cast with laced cordial.”
Erica’s jaw dropped open. “She what?”
“Mhm…and Mariah Carey broke her leg. Tragic. Oh…so this fashion show. Need another model?”
Erica by this point was on her cellphone, seeing if this was all true, and sure enough according to TMZ it was.
“Model? Why, you interested?’
Simone chuckled and said. “Well, show has been postponed for a few weeks, so I thought, I could work for you.” It was a smart move on the dancer’s part, since she had the legs and the body for it. Erica tapped her phone, then as Simone got up and handed her a glass of bolly, she pouted and said in a baby voice. “Please?”
Erica took a sip of the champagne, narrowing her gaze at her bestie. She knew how Simone was, and then she wiggled her finger at her.
“No sleeping with the male models, got it? No orgies…no drug parties…promise?”
“Pinkey.”
Simone said cheerfully, with her fingers crossed behind her back.
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