Redhead Underneath
Prologue
"And now the latest tonight on the Fashion forefront." The reporter smiled showing off pearly white teeth.
"Late this afternoon, the fashion world was abuzz with another one of the Fashion Scene's Teen Queen's walk-outs. The reason for this time's apparent strike out was..." A recording played and the screen flashed a picture of one of America's Top Supermodels - Michél Labeaux - leaving the Belle Laide Studios.
"They actuallytried to feed me strawberries. I fcking hatestrawberries.The recording played.
"Apparently, one of the interns was seen carrying a basketful of the alleged fruit that was used as props from a previous shoot. Michel, upon seeing the fruit assumed the worst and fled. As of late, the Belle Laide Modeling Agency refuses to give comment to their star model's theatrics."
Susannah Jane Evers tuned out the T.V. and started rubbing her temples vigorously as if a genie'd come out sooner or later.
"This is not good." She said to thin air. "That's the fourth one this week. Add the other nineteen from the past month and what we have here is a Grade-A brat..." She sighed and buried her face in her hands. Without Michel the photo shoot would never be done.
It would be useless to look for a replacement. Every sane model knows that you never, as Michel would put it, 'steal' her shoot unless you wish to live through you whole career being backstabbed, insulted and bitch-slapped.
The door opened, revealing my secretary, Ophelia. Quite a nice, hardworking girl, just a bit of a... conceited bitch sometimes. "Your daughter's here to see you, Miss Evers." Before I could respond, a redheaded blur came barreling in and, as expected, fell flat on the floor and a loud crack was heard upon impact.
Shooing the giggling Ophelia away, I strode towards my daughter sprawled on the floor.
"I'm okay..." groaned Kristina, trying to get up herself. I reached for her arm and pulled her up. She towered over me, her being a good seven inches taller.
"Oh, honey... How many times do I have to tell you that ladies never ba - "
"- barrel through doors. Ladies exude grace and poise with every step. Bla-di-bla-di-bla. " She enunciated, having heard this countless times before.
"Nor do they go 'bla.'" I said fixing my eyes on her cracked glasses. "Now your glasses are broken..."
Taking her glasses, I walked over to my desk where I kept contact lenses for occasions such as these. This, as you may very well imagine, happens a lot.
"Drats. The saleslady gave me the wrong kind..." I frowned.
"Whatever, Mom. Just give it here, please. I hate it when everything's this fuzzy." My daughter flailed out a hand into thin air.
Handing over the contacts and some eyedrops, I stared at my daughter. She'd look really pretty if she just knew how to carry herself. Wait, scratch that. She knew how she should carry herself, me having drilled it into her head. She just preferred not to do it.
Kristina stared at me. But not with her aquamarine eyes but with bright, emerald green ones that twinkled mischievously at me as she smiled.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just remembered that time when I was nine and we played dress up."
I laughed. I used to be a theatre actress albeit I wasn't very famous. We were fooling around in the costume department while I waited for Jacob - Kristina's father - to come pick us up. I had worn this huge fake mole, vampire teeth and an afro in an attempt to scare her. It failed miserably, of course.
"You looked so hot in that pink afro, mom."
"You didn't look that bad yourself." Remembering the fake buck teeth and tutu she wore. We had a lot of fun then, too bad it didn't last since Jacob never came to pick us up having been killed in a car accident.
I shook my head in an attempt to clear away the lightheadedness I always got when I though of Jacob. "Wanna try it again, honey? I still have a few hours before I go to my meeting."
She smiled another wide toothy smile. "Sure."
--
An hour or so later, we were in the costume department, fooling around. Kristina, unrecognizable in a medieval-looking green dress and a brown wig that cascaded off her back and me in a curly blonde wig and a mustache.
"Wow, mom, you look good as a man." Giggled Kristina. I, being the wise, mature mother that I was poked her in the side. "And you, my dear, are hot." I sniffled snobbily.
Before Kristina could poke me back, we heard footsteps coming towards us.
"Where is she?" grumbled a familiar voice.
"I believe Miss Evers went through here, Mr. Turner." Replied another voice.
Oh God, my boss was here. And he was looking for me. I'm doomed. Taking off the wig and mustache, I turned to Kristina and signaled her to stay here and keep quiet.
I stepped out from the clothes rack I'd been hiding behind.
"Oh here she is, sir!" Ophelia blurted upon seeing me. The rotund, balding man in front of her turned around, his eyes narrowing on me. "Where have you been, Evers?"
"I've been here, sir." I said in the calmest voice I could muster up. Mr. Turner, getting angrier by the minute walked the distance between us till his face was but inches from mine.
"I want to know what you're going to do about this... this whole Michel fiasco." He hissed at me.
"I'm finding a replacement as of this time, sir. I've called the suitable proxies and am waiting for them to call back." I recited. Of course, I was lying through my teeth but he didn't know that.
"Waiting for... waiting for them to call back?!" His eyes popped at what I said. "They're never going to call! You should know! You're her blasted agent!"
"I'm sorry sir but I'm afraid that's our only option." I closed my eyes, anticipating the blow-up.
"I don't care! I want you to find another model to replace that brat by the end of the day. Or I'll have you replaced! D'you hear me? I'll have you FIRED! I've invested too much into this shoot to have it cancelled."
I opened my eyes in alarm. "But sir...! Be reasonable. I can't possibly get a new model today..."
"That's not my problem. I want it done and if you fail me, you'll never work in this town again. I'll make sure of that." He said threateningly.
A cough interrupted the heated conversation and Mr. Turner, Ms. Evers and Ophelia turned to look at the beautiful intruder.
"Excuse me," the girl spoke confidently. "But I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. May I be so bold as to audition?"
--
Mr. Turner glared at me "And who the heck are you?" Oh god. Oh god. Think fast, Kristina. Think... think...
"My identity is unimportant to such a significant man such as yourself. You being the esteemed Mr. Amadeus Turner of the fashion world and I being but a lowly model seeking a job." Flattery never hurts, that's what mom said. And it seems like it's working by the looks of him.
"But if my name is what you request then I must tell you that it is Skye, sir" I said in what I hoped was a calm and collected voice. Remember what mom told you, Kristina.
"Er... Skye, is it? Well, then... who is your agent?" Mr. Turner, obviously trying to look wise and wordly.
"I'm afraid I have no agent, sir. But I hope this would not get in the way with my trying to audition, Mr. Turner." And just so I could wrap this up, I bowed solemnly in front of him.
Flabbergasted and obviously embarrassed, Mr. Turner only nodded and spoke in a strained voice to Ms. Evers. "Yes, well... Miss Evers, please see to the young lady. No need for auditions, she's the one." And with that he walked away, Ophelia at his heels.
Miss Evers could only stare at her daughter, totally unrecognizable and utterly beautiful.
--
One year has passed since that faithful day and Skye since then has now replaced Michel Labeaux as the Fashion Scene's Teen Queen. The press has hounded her since her debut but still she remains a mystery thus adding to her fame.
I and my mother have worked hard to keeping Skye's true identity a secret and we've already worked out a routine to keep it that way.
For one thing, we moved from our old apartment in Chicago to a condominium nearer to the main studio but was unfortunately a bit far from my old public school. (Psh. Try New York City far.) Now I'm enrolled into the prestigious St. Agatha Private Academy.
And yes, it is a snobby rich people school.
Somebody knocked outside my door. "Skye, you ready?"
"Yeah, I'm coming." I called out.
I still have no idea what came over me that day but whatever it was I can't stop this now. Not when the whole world will be looking if Skye suddenly disappears from the face of the earth. Not when I'm the only thing that's keeping me and my mom off the streets.
That blasted Mr. Turner wasn't half as idiotic as I thought he was. Somehow he made the connection that I'd only work for him if he didn't fire my mother and he's been using that against me ever since. Thank God he doesn't know why.
But I know someday the truth will come out. But until then I have to keep this sham up, for the sake of my mother and myself.
Walking to the door, I glanced at the mirror one last time. Straight brown hair and green eyes that sparkled beneath the bangs that framed my face. I looked nothing like Kristina.
Whether or not that was a good thing, I didn't care anymore.
I slammed the door shut.
--
Author's Note: Hello! Pardon my mistake but I posted the rough draft instead of the edited one. But see! I fixed it! Yay, for the ditz!