Hi! So here's another full-length story to ring in the New Year! I've had this idea for a really long time now, and I'm actually going to write this. After an unfortunate incident that kind of got me a little down, I'm back and more motivated than ever. I've been putting even more thought into my writing, being very cautious in order present the best work possible. I think this is going to be the best work I've ever written. Which means, I'm going to take a lot longer writing it, so bear with me guys. I promise I have some really good ideas.
Santana Lopez had finally made it. She finally had the job and recognition she'd been working towards since she was seventeen. She was standing in a posh loft at a party, wearing a $2000 gown, drinking champagne she wouldn't have been able to even pronounce ten years ago, and mingling with business tycoons who were only there to celebrate her.
"Congratulations, Santana. You deserve it, girl," her coworker hugged her, the golden chains she was wearing with her cocktail dress digging into Santana's bare décolletage.
"Thanks, Sasha," Santana replied and gave an obligatory smile. She knew Sasha wanted the promotion herself, but whatever. Her boss was clinking his glass anyways, a good excuse for Santana to not to call Sasha out for being a jealous fake.
"May I have your attention please?" he started, "Thank you. On behalf of everyone at the Victoria's Secret HQ, I thank you for coming tonight to celebrate with us the launch of our new Invincible bra. This revolutionary innovation will be remembered in fashion history, just like Victoria's Secret. And of course, with each new bra comes a new star. But you all know this model. Allow me to proudly present the new face of the Invincible campaign, America's favorite Angel, the beloved Miss Santana Madison! Santana?"
Santana walked up to the podium, flashed the audience a megawatt smile, kissed Daniel on both cheeks, and raised her own champagne flute.
"Thank you so much, Daniel. It's an honor to be the new face of the Invincible campaign. It's an honor to represent such a wonderful company because there is no harder working company out there other than Victoria's Secret. Having been with them for 5 years now, I can honestly say this is the most gratifying experience in my entire modeling career. I am so very excited to be able to share the magnificence and luxury of the Invincible bra with America. So cheers to Daniel and everyone who's worked so hard," she recited, ignoring just how fake and forced her words were. She rose her glass, took a sip, and waited for the applause. When she heard it, she smiled, walked back down and continued to work the room like the star that she was.
"We're going to get the fuck out of this cow town one day San, the second we can. You and me," a seventeen-year-old Noah Puckerman said hazily, taking another drag on his Clovis cigarette. His arm was draped lazily behind his head and the scantily-clad girl beside him wriggled a bit, blocking out the nippy backyard air by cocooning herself in the sleeping bag they were sharing.
"You know it, Puckerman," Santana Lopez remarked as she pulled her nimble body closer to his, close enough so that his signature scent would infuse into her wild mane of black hair. A little phenomenon she'd loved ever since she discovered it after a crazy night freshman year when she'd woken up smelling like a mélange of dip, sweat, and well, pure boy. He rolled over onto his forearms, the ridges between the floor panels of his deck engraving marks into his skin through the sleeping bag.
"What'll we do?" he mumbled. It was as deep as their conversations ever went. They were in their senior year, the home stretch. Ms. Pillsbury-Howell kept going on about the future, and all the opportunities that would arise, as if their generation had the chance to do something amazing. Yeah, right. They were both smart enough to know that the Quinn Fabrays and Finn Hudsons of WMHS were never going to cure cancer or any shit like that.
"Who cares as long as we're out of here?" she scoffed. He chuckled to humor her. If there was one thing about the lovers, it was that they had a lot in common. Maybe it's why they always came crawling back to one another after shit went down. Sure there was the obvious, like the fact that they both enjoyed sex, a lot (especially with each other). But they also shied away from commitment and stability. Two things that a lifetime in Lima would confine them to. They would have to leave; neither of them could survive here for another 50 years or however long before they'd decide to kill themselves.
"Good point," he said before whispering more promises into her ear.
The next morning, Santana showed up to the first photoshoot for the new campaign. So posing in underwear and high heels for ten hours a day isn't an ideal job, but her boobs paid the bills. When she saw the rest of the girls come in, she groaned at the sight of Coral Truax, her least favorite fellow Angel. Coral was rude to the assistants, demanded everything she wore to be coral, and always threw a fit whenever she didn't get what she wanted. But she photographed like a pin-up girl, so she was never going to be dropped from the company. Darn. At least Sasha was here. She was semi-tolerable. Santana mentally chided herself for having a career that stuck her in the company of girls for most of her day. She never did well with other girls anyways, but it's not like she chose her profession.
"Hey Santana. Congrats on the promotion. Whose dick did you suck to get it?" Coral hissed.
"Don't be stupid Coral. Not all of us have to," she remarked and turned around so that the make-up artist could finish concealing the dove-shaped birthmark on her shoulder blade. Santana almost didn't notice the young girl in the corner staring at her, someone she'd never seen before. She wore her light blond hair (Santana could tell it was natural) in two braids and was carrying a fake Gucci bag.
"Uhm, what are you staring at?" Santana snapped. The girl jumped and rushed over, eyes frantic.
"I'm sorry. You're just so beautiful. Oh my gosh, I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe I'm working with Santana Madison. You're just my idol," she rambled. Santana smiled at the girl, finding her endearing in that young, crazed fan kind of way.
"Working? Who are you?" Coral shrieked from across the room. Before the poor girl could respond, Daniel strode in.
"Girls, play nice. This is Katie Hershlag. She's going to be the fourth girl in the ads. Where are you from again, Katie?" Daniel asked.
"Alabama," she chirped, her voice reveal a slight lilt. Daniel pulled up out BlackBerry and punched in some keys.
"Right, right. Okay well Katie, from now on, you will be referred to as Katya. You could pass as Russian, you'll need to get rid of that accent though…" he rambled without looking up. Katie looked overwhelmed. Santana shot her a sympathetic glance. Having worked with Daniel for a number of years, she understood his thinking. She understood this industry. Modeling was all about selling an image, and in this particular line of work, selling a fantasy. Santana was going to be the exotic, racially-ambiguous star; Coral the sexy, All-American girl next door; Sasha the sassy voluptuous bombshell; and now, Katie or Katya, was to be the mysterious foreign beauty. They would each take on their individual roles and do whatever it took to sell the product, appealing to every kind of woman in America. Daniel walked out, tapping away on his phone.
Katie gulped, and all three pairs of eyes looked at her.
"Don't look so scared, honey. It's not a flattering look," Coral quipped.
"It's just, why do I have to change everything about myself? How come I can't be Katie from Maybelle, Alabama?" she asked.
"What's the population in Maybelle?"
"5000"
"That's why. Nobody's going to want to be you, and therefore want to buy the underwear you're wearing, if you're just going to be a small town girl from the middle of nowhere. If you want to be boring and awkward Katie Hershlag, go ahead, but don't be surprised if you're off the set tomorrow," Coral said.
"Oh," Katie quietly said.
"Don't worry, you get used to it. We all had to go through it. I'm from Lima, Ohio, and that place was the biggest shithole you'd ever seen. When I got here, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. They let me keep my name at least, well my first name," Santana offered. She didn't know why she was telling this stranger so much about her. Even though she'd been on the cover of practically every tabloid, few people knew anything about her. She'd chosen to remain an enigma in the public eye. But Santana saw a little bit of her old self in this Katie Hershlag, and it was nice to be reminded a little bit of home. She'd changed her name too, from Lopez to Madison. Her first agent told her that Lopez was drab and reminded people of , that she needed to be her own person. Santana had found it ironic that in order to make a name for herself, to have her own persona, she needed to change her name. Her agent promised her that when she was a star, she could just drop her last name. It wouldn't even matter by then; she would just be a one-name wonder, like Gisele or Tyra. So Santana chose Madison, the street where the rich and famous lived it up.
Santana stepped off the train and looked around. It was her first time out of Lima, Ohio and she was in New York, of all fucking places. She was standing in Grand Central Station, in the middle of the Big Apple, with an actual plan. Like a real one, not the lame one she'd made last summer in the middle of the night with Puck. She pulled her suitcase forward and walked out to find the person from the agency she'd been promised.
"Santana Lopez?" a voice yelled from behind her. Santana turned around, seeing the matronly woman who'd found her.
"Yeah, that's me," she replied.
"Good, come with me. The agency sent me," the woman said, looking Santana up and down, occasionally clucking her tongue. Santana squirmed. She was used to attention, but not from some old lady who was judging her every feature in excruciating detail. Santana knew she was hot, but come on. The whole examination thing was unnecessary.
"Okay, where are we going?" Santana asked.
"To get you your makeover," the woman replied, walking briskly ahead. Santana had to speedwalk to keep up.
"Makeover?" This wasn't part of the plan. The agent from Cincinnati told her there was a modeling job perfect for Santana in New York. If she wanted it, she needed to get out there right away and get it, because well, modeling is cutthroat.
"Well honey, you didn't expect to just plop right in and get modeling right?" Santana shook her head, pretending her previous thoughts had never existed. She would have to fake it until she made it. "We'll need to get your hair layered and then you need some hair removal laser therapy…you're eighteen right?"
Santana nodded and complied. She knew she was lucky just to be here, lucky just to have a modeling job. For every Naomi Campbell, there had been 10,000 girls who didn't make it. She wasn't going to become one of the 10,000. Even if it was for only three months. Maybe if she did a good job, she could just stay here forever. Whatever it took to not end up in Lima forever. She'd been blessed with this opportunity, and she wasn't going to fuck it up.
Still, lying on the cold surgical table that day, body unrecognizable and numb with pain from electrolysis, she wondered just who she had become, because she sure as hell didn't recognize herself.
"Really?" Katie asked.
"Really," Santana affirmed, softening her gaze.
"Why'd you leave Lima?"
"Because I looked around, and didn't see one person whose life I wanted. I got out of there the second I could, and never looked back"
My stories are nothing without your feedback. So please, review. Tell me what you think, I love hearing your thoughts. And don't hesitate to tell me what you hated and what you think I should do better.