Palmer: Fashion Week Ch. 08

"Need to smile all the time, even when you're not being filmed ... red light means taping ... read from the tele-prompter, but sound natural..."

He had a pair of large headphones resting around his neck and would occasionally pause to listen, holding it up to his ear like a DJ. It made things even more disjointed.

"You'll be fine," the petite make-up artist reassured her as they swept into Roxanne's private dressing room.

The production assistant nodded, although at first it wasn't clear if he was acknowledging something heard in his headphones, or what the make-up girl had said. Then he broke into a smile and nodded more enthusiastically.

"You'll be great," he told her. "And you're in good hands with Dawn here."

The girl at her side gave Roxanne a pixie-cute smile and bounced the sculpted arches of her dark brows. She had short, dark hair that curled around her chin and brilliant blue eyes, accentuated by her black-framed glasses. She had naughty librarian written all over her.

"Okay, Rich, time for you to shoo," she said, with the hint of a lisp. "Ms. Lopez is needed on set in an hour and a half, and I'm sure you've got something else do to."

"Right," he nodded, suddenly looking sheepish.

He looked like he was about to say something more, then shut his mouth and left abruptly.

"He seems a little frenetic," Roxanne remarked as she took her seat in front of the bulb-lined make-up stand. I didn't think I was late!"

She knew she wasn't. She and Jack had fucked last night and again this morning, but she was too professional too miss her cue. She'd arrived fifteen minutes before the time Alicia had told her.

"You weren't," Dawn confirmed. "He just likes to make everyone feel that way. Anyway, compared to the other celebrity guests we've had on here, you're very early. That makes a nice change."

Even with only six months since her 'retirement,' it was strange for Roxie to hear herself referred to as a 'celebrity.' She'd almost grown used to the quieter life with Jack. Almost.

Make-up took even longer than she'd expected. Longer than even the most audacious of modelling shoots she'd been on, and yet the end result wasn't overdone. It was just right for television.

"I need to hire you, Dawn," Roxie praised, smiling at the cute girl in the mirror as she admired the work.

She had accentuated her high cheekbones and long lashes for television in the subtlest of ways.

"That's a deal," Dawn giggled. "If I got to work on faces like yours every day for the rest of my life, I'd be in heaven."

She had large, expressive eyes, and unsurprisingly wore her dark mascara well. It went perfectly with her black-framed glasses.

"Most of the celebrities can be pains, that's for sure," she added, giggling again as she began to brush out Roxanne's long, red hair. "Divas before they have a right to be, if you ask me. Not all are bad, I guess, but the good ones are usually eliminated early."

"Really? How long have you been working for this show?"

"Since the beginning, actually. I was a high fashion make-up and hair stylist before the show, but I like this a lot more. I mean, metallic eye shadow has its time and place, but all the time?"

Roxanne had to agree, thinking about her more outrageous shoots.

"So this is what, season seven already?" Dawn went on. "Shit, when you put it like that, I sound old!"

Roxie laughed. The girl certainly didn't look her age. She'd put her at twenty-one at most.

"So, which host have you liked the best so far?" she asked.

"Oh, Alicia. Totally. She's cool and sexy yet has somehow not let it get to her head. At least that's how she comes off ... I have no idea what she's really like, of course. She's a pretty private person."

Roxanne nodded. The blonde supermodel had hit it big just as Roxie was breaking into the modelling scene. She'd signed a contract with Nikolay Volkov and attached her name to Swelter, a perfume that was still top selling. Based on her experience so far, she had to admit she liked Alicia, and looked forward to working more closely with her.

"You're a lot like her, you know," Dawn added, a warm look in her big eyes. She pushed her black-framed glasses further up her nose. "I think the two of you will gel perfectly."

Roxie's green eyes smiled back. The thought of appearing with Alicia was both nerve-racking and exhilarating. She was used to the fame, but the hosting a season of Supermodel was reserved for the upper echelon of the modelling world. The elite of the elite. And yet, if she was successful, this was the compromise that would help her leave modelling agencies behind and help resolve her and Jack's differences.

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls," she quipped.

Dawn just grinned back and went about her work. By the time she was done, Roxanne's hair had been transformed. Her normally thick, wavy red locks were now as straight and flat as a blade. Her bangs were brushed and pinned to pass dramatically across her forehead and left eye, giving her a femme fatale look that went so well with her darker than usual eyeliner.

"Ta da!" the cute make-up artist announced with a flourish.

Roxanne flipped her hair a little, half expecting it to hang frozen and immobile with all of the product that had been applied. Like magic, the shimmering tresses glided about her back and shoulders like a matador's cape.

"You're awesome!" she exclaimed.

"And you're beautiful," Dawn's soft and sweet voice replied. "Now, we'd better get moving."

*

Michelle smiled sensually at Jenn Finney. The moment of truth was close. It felt like the brunette wanted this to happen as much as she did, but the last thing she wanted was to push things too fast and scare her off. She had to keep the young cop off guard.

"Oh, I can tell you lots of things about Nikky Volkov," she casually said, with a toss of her hair. "Some good, some bad, some dangerous..."

She let her words hang there for a moment. Dangling the carrot.

"He loved our photo shoot, you know," she said, smiling again. "He loved you, and he loved the campaign. It will sell lipstick, alright. But you know what, more importantly it will sell Jenn Finney. In a year, no one's going to give a damn about the lipstick but they'll remember the model. If you want to be a model, it's important to capitalise on that."

She paused again, smiling sweetly. This girl was a cop, not a model. But why not plant the thought in her head?

Besides, she still hadn't decided which way to play this.

The London Met had no jurisdiction in Dubai, she was sure of that. And in any case, Volkov's connection with Sheikh Amir bin Khalid would protect him if they tried to make any sort of move. On the other hand, armed with the incriminating information she and Tony had collected on the Russian's illicit business dealings, they would be able to arrest him the first time he returned to Europe.

It felt strange to have the Russian multi-millionaire's fate in her hands, and it felt scary, too. For her own sake, she couldn't afford to make the wrong choice. If she thought she could trust him, she'd burn all the evidence she had and go with the flow. But could she? If he ever made the real connection between her and Tony Yamamura, she was done for. She shivered as she thought of Tony and Boris. The Russian was brutal he with anyone who got in his way.

But if she supplied Jenn with enough information to nail Volkov, it was crucial that she couldn't be implicated. He'd find ways to send people after her. So ... he had to believe she was on his side. And that meant delivering what he'd asked for. Seducing the brunette. After that, she could decide which way to play the cards she had.

"Okay..." she said, her mind suddenly made up. She pushed up to her feet and held her hand out. "You want to know all about working as a model for Nikky, so let's get started."

She took hold of Jenn's hand and helped her climb out of the water. Her tongue flicked across her lips as she watched the water cascade off that lush body, beads forming rivulets along her oiled skin. The brunette looked so hot and yet so innocent. This was going to be fun.

Turning on her heels, she could feel Jenn's eyes on her round buttocks as she sauntered away from the pool and towards the loungers. Her ass was barely concealed by the tiny black thong. When she glanced back, she caught the brunette looking.

"See something you like?" she teased.

She chuckled out loud and then sexily wiggled her ass in the air as she bent forward and reached for her bag.

"C'mon," she persuasively added. "Lie here. I need to put some sun tan oil on that beautiful skin of yours before it burns."

She straightened and struck a sexy pose as Jenn followed her across the tiled area and nervously sat down on the nearest lounger.

"On your tummy," Michelle told her, lighting up what looked to be a cigarette.

But when she sat down on the lounger beside the brunette, the noxious odour of blueberry headies confirmed it was anything other than tobacco. Jenn's head whipped round but Michelle met her look of surprise with a grin, taking another drag from the joint.

"Don't say you're that naïve," she told her, with a disbelieving smile. She'd been around models long enough now. "It's only a little weed. All the girls do it, and a lot worse."

"I know that," Jenn sheepishly responded. "I was just thinking it was a bit early in the afternoon."

Michelle gave a hearty laugh.

"It's never too early," she said, taking the joint from her mouth and handing it to the cop. "And it's not just for me. If we're going to talk about Nikky, we might as well feel relaxed doing it, yes?"

Jenn hesitated for a second. She'd been stupid for trying the opium, but then Jade had had an ulterior motive. Here, they were just two models together, doing what models did. She glanced at the marijuana cigarette for a brief moment before taking a drag, the thick smoke hesitantly curling out from between her wonderfully full lips.

"That's better," Michelle murmured happily. "Feel it?"

A confused look ran across Jenn's face as she blinked her eyes.

"I don't think so," she said, looking at the thin joint again.

She took another drag and released the smoke through her nostrils, the way Michelle had done. Maybe she could cope with this?

She glanced at the Asian model again and suddenly began to feel warm inside. This girl was hot. And if ever there was a face made for the covers of a glossy magazine, this was it. Those high cheekbones, the large almond shaped eyes and beautiful bow lips.

And of course, those perky tits sat so proudly on her toned body...

Her eyes began to glaze over as the wonderful sensation of wellbeing began to permeate through her. When her head fell to one side, like a naughty child looking at her mother, Michelle grinned.

It was time to take advantage.

*

"You know, most guys wouldn't have done what you did at the party," Isobel said to Palmer, as she sat her margarita down and leaned back in her seat.

They were sitting together at one end of the bar. She was wearing a light cream dress that somehow covered everything and yet left very little to the imagination. It accentuated every curve. When a strand of dark hair caught in the gloss of her lips, it was all he could do not to reach across and pull it away.

"What do you mean?" he asked, taking a sip from his own drink.

Booze in the middle of the day—especially margaritas—wasn't his normal thing, but here, it seemed like the right thing to do.

"When you found out that Jenn was in trouble, you just jumped right in there! Like, you didn't get security, or anyone else."

She laughed as she stared into his eyes, and then leaned towards him so that she could speak more conspiratorially.

"Most men I know wouldn't have done that," her husky voice added.

Palmer shrugged, not really knowing what to say. In his world, most people would have done the same.

He also felt that he had to be careful about what he said. He doubted it, but Isobel could be close to Nikky Volkov for all he knew. He'd tried to tease information out of her at the party, only for her to neatly sidestep each of his attempts. The last thing he intended to do was reveal anything about what was going on with Jenn Finney.

"She has all the qualities to make a very successful model," Izzy continued, filling the brief silence. "I've photographed most of them and she definitely has the wow factor. But then, Roxanne will already have told you that."

"Kind of," he contented himself by saying.

Isobel laughed, picking up on the nuance.

"I know you don't rate the modelling industry, Jack, but really, it's just like any other. "Politics. Newspapers. Banking. Full of good guys and bad guys, rich and powerful people who are looking to exploit others. It's just a lot sexier, that's all."

He pulled a face. It was a subject he could debate for a long time, but not right now.

"They should commission you to project the image of the fashion industry, Izzy," he responded, smiling affectionately at her. "I have the feeling you'd make a very good job of it."

They were quiet for a few moments, although it wasn't exactly an uncomfortable moment. They enjoyed the drinks in silence, smiling at one another. Then Palmer bit the bullet.

"Look, can I ask you something."

"Is it personal?" Izzy softly asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"That's a shame," she teased, resting her chin on her palm. "I think having a personal conversation with you could be fun, Jack. Instead, you've gone into cop mode. Still, Roxie told me she could never resist you when you become all business-like. Okay, ask away."

He shuffled on his chair, aware that the beginning of an erection was starting to form in his trousers. There'd never be anyone as attractive to him as his redheaded girlfriend but he liked this woman. She was comfortable in her own skin.

"It's about the party," he explained, trying to watch her eyes for a reaction. It was impossible through her shades. "You told me we should stay away from Jade. That she was bad news."

Isobel nodded her head, but didn't reply.

"Roxie isn't easily fooled," he continued, his face impassive. "But she thought Jade was her friend and it turns out she was nothing of the sort. I'm intrigued how you know so much about her?"

The brunette hesitated, running her fingers along the rim of her glass. It was as if she was wondering how much to tell him.

"I'm a photographer," she slowly said. "That's my job, and so I get to spend time with a lot of models. I listen to what they say, how they act, who they talk to, who they don't. It isn't difficult to form opinions."

"And your opinion of Jade?"

"Hmm ... where would you like me to start?" she asked.

She leaned forward as she spoke, lifting her large sunglasses up to look eye-to-eye with him. Her dark Spanish eyes were gleaming.

"That she's an incredible fuck?" she asked. She smiled and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. "But from what I gather, you already know that, Jack."

Palmer felt the colour rush to his cheeks and his erection grew another couple of inches.

"For what it's worth," Izzy softly confirmed, seemingly enjoying his discomfort, "she was very impressed with your performance, too."

Satisfied that she had him on the back foot, she let the glasses drop back over her stunning eyes before continuing.

"Jade is a chameleon," she said. "As a model, she was the perfect woman to follow Naomi Campbell and Tyra Banks. The same sort of looks, body, attitude. But that's not what you want to hear..."

She lowered her voice and leant closer to him as she continued.

"She is very loyal to Nikky Volkov and she'll do anything he asks of her. If that means fucking her best friend's husband, or wife, she'll do so with the same enthusiasm she fucks Nikky. If it means setting up someone like Jenn, she'll do that, too. The thing is, it's not that she's intrinsically bad. She's just in love with him. Surprising, yes? But true."

Palmer finished off his drink as her words hung in the air. In love with Nikky Volkov? Those were the last words he'd expected to hear.

"Jack, there's a lot of prostitution in the modelling business," Izzy continued, warming to the subject. "I see it all the time and that'll never go away, no matter how many millionaire sleaze balls you try to put down. Sex and drugs go with the territory. But I love the way you look after Roxie, and your friends. You're a real good guy, Jack."

She signalled for another round of drinks, even as he was beginning to think that the one had been enough. Tequila made him loopy and the last margarita was no exception. But he wanted to hear more.

"Tell me about Nikky Volkov," he asked.

To his surprise, the Spanish beauty actually blushed a little.

"Nikky Volkov has three priorities," she softly said. "Himself, money and sex. Possibly in that order, though I'm never sure."

Palmer pursed his lips as he nodded. He still hadn't established how close she was to the Russian.

"What about you and him?" he asked, deciding to go for it.

He'd find out more by asking the question outright than he would by pussyfooting around the subject.

Isobel laughed nervously.

"Let me see," she said, raising her sunglasses again and placing them on top of her thick way hair.

He could see her eyes now. That told him she had nothing to hide.

"He pays very well, though he is very demanding," she began, hardly taking a breath as she decided to come clean. "If you're a woman and work for him, you have to be prepared to fuck him. Which I have, twice. You also have to be prepared to fuck his clients, which I haven't, ever. Mind you, that's a duty usually reserved for his more famous models, not the likes of me."

She paused, staring at him closely. It was as if trying to get inside his mind, see if he was making judgments.

"He's mega rich, he has no scruples at all," she continued, the corners of her mouth turning upward. "He can be a little crazy at times and he's not a man you would ever, ever, want as your enemy. Will that do for now?"

"Almost," Palmer said quietly. "How crazy? Would he have some killed?"

The question seemed to floor her.

"I'm not sure I can answer that," she said, after a moment's reflection. "But I understand the question. Death seems to have accompanied us to Dubai. First, it was Tony and now Boris."

"Boris?"

"Nikky's bodyguard."

She hesitated, as if Palmer should know what she was talking about. He looked stunned.

"He was murdered last night," she said, her voice cracking a little.

As if on cue, the phone in his pocket—the ghosted mobile—began to ring. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"I'm really sorry," he said to Izzy, instantly moving to his feet and pulling out his wallet. He dropped some cash for the drinks onto the table at the same time as he reached for the phone. "This is a call I've been waiting for. We'll catch up again soon, I hope."

*

Roxanne watched from backstage as the host of Supermodel, Alicia Stiles, opened the seventh season of the popular fashion show.

The redhead was in awe, something she rarely felt anymore. The aura that the blonde host projected was staggering. She was sophisticated, confident, self-aware, self-assured and unwaveringly beautiful. With her long blonde hair, flawlessly tanned skin, and warm brown eyes, she was in part a superstar and yet the quintessential girl-next-door.

"First of all, I want to congratulate the twelve of you for being here," she said. "That's quite an achievement. We auditioned hundreds of young women and you are the best of the best."

She paused for dramatic effect and Roxanne imagined the production staff dubbing in some crescendoing orchestral riff.