"So, Elendira. You just released your new line of cosmetics. Can you tell us a bit about them?"
"I wanted to make a line focusing specifically on being both affordable and quite posh." Elendira smiled brightly at camera three and nodded. "I think all women should be able to feel like they're getting high quality for a price that isn't astronomical."
"I'm sure we won't be looking like you anytime soon!" the obnoxious newscaster laughed and shuffled his papers uncomfortably. Not a terribly rare reaction, Elendira thought with a slight pang, considering a vast majority of people see me as some freak show.
It was hard to be a woman in this business, and it was hard to be a man. When you attempted to be both, you were bound to catch some flak. At least, that's what Midvalley, manager extraordinaire, had said. "Don't worry Elen, just be...well, be a bit more lovable than your usual self. Things stop shocking people after a while, ya know?"
Elendira grimaced darkly. She wasn't trying to shock anyone. She wasn't like this to get a rise out of the industry. No, she was this way because she didn't see herself as a man. That was it. She didn't get why everyone made such a big deal about it. It wasn't like she was running around like "I'm a proud transgendered woman and I think that..." insert prudish and biased opinion here. No, she was quite mum about it. Sure, if someone insulted her, or made an unacceptable comment towards the community, she was going to speak up. She was no pushover.
"Well, thank you all for tuning into our show this morning! Don't forget to tune in tomorrow to see" Elendira stopped listening then. Who gave a flying fuck about which shallow, vapid bimbo was going to parade herself across the stage tomorrow. She trooped silently back to the tiny closet they had made into the "guest star" room, shut the door and locked it. "I'm a terrible hypocrite, aren't I?" she grumbled at her pale reflection in the dirty glass of the vanity. Blowing on the glass to clear some of the dust, she looked at herself deeply. It was a bad habit, fixating on minor flaws the way she did. Of course, nothing had changed since she stared herself down thirty minutes ago: too masculine face, slightly thin lips, hair that wasn't the exact shade of dusty blonde she had requested upon entering the salon and dropping two hundred dollars on a mediocre bleach job, her carefully applied lashes (her's never seemed to be thick enough) slightly clashing with the sharp sweep of her cheekbones. She sighed. "I've got to knock this off. I'm never going to be perfect." she told herself firmly, standing and collecting her things from the disgusting couch behind her. A sharp rap on the flimsy wooden door made her jump. "Elen, ya done? We got a photo shoot in thirty!" Midvalley called, jiggling the handle.
"I'm coming right now. Give me a sec." Elendira plucked her black pillbox hat from the vanity and carefully settled it over her short hair. She cast a quick look at the mirror, adjusted her hat and flipped the lock on the door. "Well, let's go then."
~~~~~~~
The black SUV pulled into the lot of the modeling agency. Elendira sighed, and tugged at her hat. "Let's get this over with." She slipped from the car and tottered towards the front door. "So, the photographer is a new face. His name is Millions Knives, and he's a bit...er...off." Midvalley opened the door for Elendira and herded her in. "Just smile pretty like and be cute." She sighed. Midvalley meant well, he really did. He was just a moron. The pair entered the room and found the photographer with his back towards them, working intently on his camera.
"Hello, Millions...Knives. Uhm, my name is Midvalley, and this is my client Elendira. It's a pleasure to be working together. Do yo-"
"It's just Knives." The man replied gruffly, not bothering to look up.
"Er...okay." Midvalley floundered slightly "uhm...do you have any concerns or anything like that?"
"No."
"Well...okay then!" He turned to Elendira and smiled slightly. "Well, kid. Knock em dead."
Elendira sighed darkly. He's an idiot, he's an idiot, he's an idiot she told herself over and over, forcing a smile in his general direction. The smile lasted four seconds, and disappeared as he booked it for the door as fast as possible. Elendira sighed deeply. Such a moron.
Livio popped his pen cap into his mouth. "So, this guy's on the run then?" Wolfwood didn't respond, just placed a crushed cigarette between his lips. Livio sighed and stood, gathering his wrinkled blue suit jacket. "I guess I'll try to find your information. I make no promises though."
"Great. I'll pay ya back when I get the chance Crybaby."
Livio grunted and headed to the door, tucking his coat under his arm. Wolfwood was a good guy; a bit rough, but a good man. Livio had nothing but respect for him. Being a tough orphan was somewhat of a redundancy, but Wolfwood embodied toughness. Livio was quite jealous of that uncrackable psyche; for the longest time, he was nothing more than a weeping pile of meat on the floor, not quite strong enough to handle life without his parents.
Wolfwood took a deep drag off his cigarette and threw on his sunglasses. If anyone could find the information he needed, it would be Livio. He sighed darkly and walked towards the door, resting his hand on the knob. "This sucks." He grumbled, popping another cigarette between his lips. "This really sucks."
"It really does." Livio grumbled.
"I'll be in touch. Do me good Crybaby."
"Mm."
The file room smelled like dirty paper and metal, thanks to the looming cabinets and heavily handled files residing inside them. A dirty lightbulb barely illuminated the room and had a disposition to sway with the air in the drafty concrete cell. Livio sighed and tugged on the dented drawer of the leftmost cabinet. It screeched horribly but eventually inched open. "Let me see...'m' is...here it is." He flipped through a few soiled Manila folders. "'Ma'...'M...ah! That's it. 'Millions Knives'." Livio pulled the thick file out, having to tug quite hard to get it out because of its thickness.
"Shit!" He groaned as a thick stack of documents fell out and landed with a whump on the floor. He dropped into a crouch and went to pick the papers up. "Subject has displayed violent and psychopathic tendencies, but is charismatic and very well spoken. Subject should be treated with upmost care; he is easily offended and is quick to violence."
"Quick to violence. Noooo shit." Heaving a sigh, he reordered the papers and stuffed them unceremoniously back into the folder. He cast a quick look around, stuffed the folder into his pinstriped bag and quickly walked out to the street.
"Why help Nicolas? Why stick your neck out for him?" Great. Raz just had to chime in from the back of his mind. Wonderful. "Hush Razlo. I'm doing this because we're friends."
"Or something else. Maybe you want to be his girl? Is that it? You're such a weak little shit, ya know that?" Livio stopped dead. While he was used to taking horrible abuse from the second person dwelling in his skin, such direct and vicious attacks were really quite rare. "Are you fucking kidding me Livio? Do. Not. Ignore. Me." Razlo barked coldly, his presence shoving at the boundaries of his mental cage.
"What do you want from me Razlo?!" Livio cried, clamping his hands over his ears. A few elderly women stopped in their tracks and stared. "Such a shame." One of them muttered, "They're losing it younger and younger these days." The rest of the women nodded in solemn agreement and hurried on, clutching their purses tightly to their breasts.
"Ya scared those old fuckin' ladies off now Livio. You happy?"
"Stop it Razlo. Just let me get on with this." He sighed and winced as Raz sent another sharp jolt through his arm causing him to drop his heavy bag.
"Pick that up. Now." Razlo growled viciously, sending wave after wave of sharp pain down Livio's left arm.
"I'm going to. Calm the hell down." He grumbled, stooping and grabbing the bag by the handles. As he grabbed it, the sky opened up and began to pour cold torrents of rain down onto the dark city below.
"Yeah…this really does suck."
Elendira wasn't one for kiddie crushes. She had never been particularly interested or shaken by anyone. So, when her heart leapt into the highest reaches of her throat, she assumed it only meant she may be ill. Seconds later, though, as Knives turned to face her, her heart made a very noble attempt to escape. "Uhm…" think dammit! She mentally screamed at herself. Knives seemed to not notice her childlike, slack jawed and vapid stare.
"Over there." He said tersely, pointing to a red velvet curtain pulled back with braided golden tassels. There was a very pretty and very rickety looking chair set up in front, resting on wobbly legs on the train of the curtains.
"Ye…yes. Let me change…and I'll be right back." She hurried off, pulling at her black hat as she went. She found a bathroom, slipped inside, and stripped in record time. She looked down at herself. Normally, a small wave of disgust arose when she caught glimpses of her penis, or fixated on her obviously male body; this time, however, when she saw the thin hips and flat chest she had been so graciously given by god (the same god that would see her burn for an eternity, if she was to believe the hype by her good friend the catholic church), something inside her broke. It shattered into a fine dust and she collapsed, weeping hysterically. "What the hell did I ever do? Why the hell should I suffer!" she curled into herself and lay on the floor.
Finally, after a ten minute crying spell, she managed to climb to her feet. She was angry, but most of all, she was confused. "What the hell caused this?" she mumbled, sniffling quietly. Was it the beautiful man standing mere yards from where she had laid and cried? She sighed weakly, and brushed her long bangs from her face. "No." she said firmly "it had to be something that was a long time coming. I…I'm just stressed. I'll get this shoot done and then I'll have a nice long girl's weekend!" she forced herself to smile at that. "Yeah, it'll be wonderful." She staggered to the mirror and nearly had a heart attack; every bit of makeup she had ever worn seemed to be smeared on her red blotchy face. Black eyeliner and mascara from decades ago seemed to have congregated, in masse, down from her eyes to her chin. "My lipstick looks like I just sucked thirty men off…" she said, slightly shocked by how bad she actually looked. "My god, I look like a fucking cracked out, blind child who got into mommy's make up." she giggled slightly at the thought.
She cleaned herself up and quickly got dressed. "Are you close to done yet? Jesus I hate waiting on stuck up women…" Knives called through the door, irritation obvious in his voice.
"I'm sorry! I had a little malfunction!"
"I don't really care. Just get out here so we can finish up. I've got other things to do too." Elendira smiled in spite of herself. He was very touchy, wasn't he? She walked out of the bathroom in her six inch "fuck me" pumps and a little red dress. Not her favorite outfit, but not too bad. The skirt would show more than she was prepared to show if she moved wrong, but the fit was incredible and slimming. She cast a quick look at Knives and was disappointed to see that he was paying her no attention. Damn, she thought, I'll get him in the end though.
She tottered over to the chair and carefully sat herself down; the thing wasn't meant to hold anything more than a teddy bear, and she was getting a great leg work out from hovering her butt over the seat close enough for it to look like she was actually sitting. "What do you want me to do?" she called as soon as she found a stable position.
"I don't care. Just pose pretty." He responded flatly, fiddling with the strap on his camera. She pursed her lips slightly at how blunt he was being, but decided to try to find a sexy pose she could do while sitting on an invisible chair.
"Don't move."
"Huh?"
"Don't. Move." He repeated, raising his camera and stepping a few inches to the side. Elendira held her pose, not even daring to look into the camera. This guy was a total hardass and she didn't want to incur his wrath. Snap, click, snap. The camera flashed blindingly, stunning her momentarily.
"Move around a bit. Just be natural."
She turned her head slightly. How confusing. Knives was suddenly so passionate. She smiled slightly; this interest was something that she liked. Snap, click, snap.
Elendira walked out of the studio, thighs burning. Knives had insisted on several very strenuous poses, and, by the middle of the shoot, she was ready to collapse. Finally, his attention dwindled down to nothing and he told her to leave, that they were done. Midvalley was waiting with her ride in the parking lot, and she gratefully climbed in. "So how'd it go El-"
"I have to see him again!" she replied before he could finish.
"That well then?"
"Better than that." Elendira thought about the hungry look in his eyes as he directed her into more and more compromising and limber poses. That was a hunger she had never seen before, and she wanted to know it completely. She had to. Because she felt that hunger herself.