Michael checked his phone as it buzzed in his pocket. He was waiting to board his plane in the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX for the trip to South America. He recognized Arnold Newhouse’s number immediately. He touched the smart-phone’s touch screen, anxious to speak to his agent at Artist’s and Models for Hire.
“I’m here Arnold. You just caught me. I was about to board the plane to Rio,” Michael said into the phone as he picked up his messenger bag and stood, walking past the noisy passengers as they gathered at the gate. Arnold’s voice was drowned out by the mixture of Portuguese and English being spoken by the crowd. “What was that,” he said, pressing his finger to the other ear, to muffle the sound as he held the phone tighter against his ear.
“I said, thank God I stopped you before you got on the plane, Michael. The shoot has been cancelled,” Arnold said. Michael thought he sounded breathless.
“Cancelled at this late a date?” Michael knew that he sounded incredulous, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d have to reschedule a photo shoot. “Okay, so when is the new shoot?” He began walking toward baggage claim. He knew his bags were already on the plane and in the back of his head he was picturing the long wait until his luggage came back to him after flying to Brazil and then back to the U.S. FUCK! Michael heard Arnold clearing his throat on the other end of the line.
“There’s not going to be a new shoot Michael.” Michael stopped walking just before he got to the moving sidewalk that would take him back to the baggage claim. He stepped aside as a very pregnant woman with a toddler on one hip and a squalling baby in a carriage, pushed her way onto the ramp. God! Never ever let me have children! Michael thought.
“What are you talking about Arnold? They’ve cancelled it entirely?” There was silence on the other end of the line for a brief moment before Arnold answered.
“Um, no Michael.” Michael didn’t like the hesitation in Arnold’s voice. “I guess I just have to come right out and day it. They’ve replaced you.” Michael knew he’d heard wrong. He was the most famous super model on earth.
“What are you saying Arnold?” Fingers of dread crawled up his spine and a niggling fear crept inside his chest and wrapped around his heart. He immediately turned, looking for a mirror where he could see what had happened that he’d been dumped. What was wrong with his dark good looks? Jesus! Was there a sexier, younger man? Michael was approaching twenty-six which in the modeling world, meant he was nearly washed up. He caught sight of himself in a window and the reflective coating of the glass, allowed him to see himself clearly. He walked toward it.
The man that stood in front of the window was breath-taking. Long black hair, held back in a ponytail at the moment, framed a nearly perfect jawline. His gorgeous bright blue eyes blinked back from the high-cheek boned, artfully sculpted face. His lashes were deep black and long; his brows were perfectly tweezed and arched. The little foundation he wore on his face, only accentuated his beauty and the two day growth of black stubble on his face was trimmed neatly, giving him the overall perfect look. Everyone wanted him, men and women and many had had him. His preference was men by far but he’d tapped more than one female model in his time. After all, he was young, beautiful, wealthy and popular. He jet-setted all over the world. What the fuck could be found lacking. Still, as shallow as he was, Michael still had a heart and he was an emotional mess at the moment.
“Look Michael, the client has decided to go a totally different way, darling. It’s not you. Of course you are their first choice in a man your age.” The placating words suddenly sat in the pit of Michael’s stomach like a hundred pound weight. He leaned his forehead against the glass as he began to tear up. They hadfound a younger model to replace him.
“Michael? Michael? Are you there, darling? They’re going to go after the “Silver” crowd.” Michael heard what Arnold was telling him but he wasn’t certain he understood. Silver meant older not younger, unless Michael misheard him.
“What Arnold!?” He knew he sounded hysterical but he couldn’t help himself at the moment. Over the past few years, he’d built up this incredible career but he constantly had to worry that he had to work-out harder than the eighteen-year-old hotties, eat less than them, smile brighter than them and stay focused. Yes, his fans still loved him but it was a shallow world, this modeling world and its flash-in-the-pan fame. As they say on Fashion Runway, “One day you’re in and the next day you’re out!” Michael felt his stomach start to heave.
“Calm down, Michael. Breathe deeply. I’m saying that I had to put Mark into the shoot. They wanted Mark.” Arnold’s voice trailed off. Michael knew exactly who Arnold was referring to. The fucking gorgeous, over-forty model, which was represented by the very same agency. He banged his head against the glass then winced because it genuinely hurt. He stood up straight and rubbed his forehead. He knew it had been a mistake going with the same agency that represented Mark What’s-his-name! He was already jealous of the gorgeous older top model. It just wasn’t fucking fair, not at all! It sucked!
“Michael? Michael? Did I lose you?” Arnold asked, sounding exasperated.
“I’m here Arnold. Okay, so what’s next? What do I do now?” His own voice sounded defeated.
“You go home, get some well needed rest and I will call you once I have the next gig lined up. No need to worry, I’ll have something in no time. There’s always someone clamoring for you. In my opinion, they’re making a mistake by pulling you off this shoot. They are going to attract many more men with the younger crowd than the older but what the hell is my opinion worth? They are the clients. Are you going to be okay Michael?”
Michael felt really stupid as if Arnold was treating him like an empty headed idiot. He wasn’t empty headed at all. Michael was quite intelligent. It was a simple matter of the fact that he didn’t use his brains to model, he used his incredible face and his gorgeous body and if Arnold wouldn’t appreciate that he had a brain, maybe he’d look for another agent. He sighed, knowing the thought was stupid. Artist’s and Model’s for Hire was one of the most prestigious male modeling agencies in the U.S., certainly in Los Angeles. Arnold had landed Michael the G.Q. cover after all. He smiled when he thought of that shoot. They’d fawned all over him like he was the last man on earth. He sighed, staring at his reflection.
“All right Arnold. I hear you. I hear you and I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’m tired. I’m just going home. Call me.” Arnold mumbled an apology and Michael hit the touch screen and tucked the phone back in his pocket as he adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder. Just as he was stepping onto the moving sidewalk’s conveyor belt, his phone buzzed in his pants again. He stood in place and reached into his pocket as the conveyor belt moved him toward his destination. Barry Vee, the Banker’s number flashed on the screen. He touched the phone and the call connected.
