This story is dedicated to all the girls who grew up hearing ...
"If you could only lose a few pounds. You have such a pretty face."
I'm one of them.
***SAPF***
Such a Pretty Face
Chapter One:
Ruined
"It takes 20 years to build a reputation and five minutes to ruin it. ..."
PopSugar
Rumor has it that world-renowned photographer and notorious playboy Edward Cullen has been pooping where he eats.
Tsk. Tsk.
Daddy Aro isn't going to be happy about this one, Eddie boy.
She's only 17.
E Online
Rumors continue to surface that international photographer Edward Cullen's career is in jeopardy after it was discovered he was having an affair with seventeen-year-old supermodel Irina Volturi. Volturi is the youngest child of Aro Volturi of Volturi Modeling Agency, the most successful agency in the world.
LA Times
It's over for internationally famous photographer Edward Cullen.
Cullen, the twenty-nine-year-old photographer and the darling of the modeling world, has reportedly been fired from his largest client, world-famous Volturi Models, INC. According to reports, Cullen was having an affair with founder and executive director Aro Voltari's youngest daughter, seventeen-year-old Irina Volturi. Although seventeen is the age of consent in many states, California's age is Eighteen. Irina Volturi has been living on and off in LA for the past two years; however, the agency and her family are based in New York City, where the age of consent is seventeen. Cullen has homes in Los Feliz, California, and in The Hamptons.
So … did he break the law or not? According to the lawyers we consulted, this is a gray area that should be left to the courts to decide. However, Volturi apparently doesn't want either court to discipline Cullen.
"Out of consideration to our daughter and at her request, our family and I have agreed not to press charges; however, Mr. Cullen's career as he knows it is dust. I will make it my lifelong mission to ensure no agency worth their salt will hire him for any future assignments."
Mr. Cullen declined to comment.
***SAPF***
One year later
New York, New York
"Edward, I really don't have anything to offer you right now. I'm sorry, but you're the equivalent of box office poison in the world of modeling," Shelly Cope says sympathetically. She lays my portfolio on her desk and sighs.
"Surely there has to be something … maybe a smaller agency?"
I've been out of work a year, and in addition to being bored out of my mind, I'm also broke as a joke. The lawyers I hired to help clear my name only managed to clear my finances. I slump forward in the chair, defeated.
The sharp ring of the phone on Shelly's desk is the alert that signals my time with her is over. I rise and walk to the door when she picks up the receiver. I murmur thank you and exit. I'm angry … pissed, to be honest.
And I am honest.
I did not have an affair with Irina Volturi.
There I said it.
My reputation may be ruined, but my conscience is not.
Look, I know what people think. I can't change that even if I tried. And I did try, which is the reason I'm down to a few thousand dollars in my checking account. That might not sound too bad for some, but unless I get an assignment soon, I'm going to have to move back to Forks Washington.
I do not want to go back there. Not now. Not ever.
I press the button on the elevator and am about to step in when I hear:
"Cullen – wait!"
I turn to see Shelly standing in her doorway. She crooks a finger and beckons me back into her office.
"I may have something for you," she says excitedly.
"What is it," I ask eagerly. "Is it with House of Milan? I've heard they're on the way up. I'd love living in Italy …" My voice skids to a stop when I see her face fall.
"Er, no … no, it's not House of Milan. It's a small agency – a niche market. I've already spoken to them, and they're extremely excited to have you on board with their team.
"A niche market. What does that mean, exactly?" I can already tell I am not going to be happy with the answer.
"It's Courbée LTD."
"Courbée?"
"Yes."
"Never heard of them," I say, dismissively.
"They're a highly respected plus-size agency, based in Providence."
"No."
"No?"
"That's right; I said no. Look, I might be broke, but I am not that goddamn desperate."
Plus-size agency … what nerve. As if I would want to shoot a bunch of fat-ass women to encourage other fat-ass women to buy whatever fat-ass women wear. What do they wear anyway, a sheet? A tent? Something with black polyester on the bottom and glitter on top to draw the eye upward? Christ, I'd rather do catalog work for JC Penny. And Providence? Who the hell even lives there … isn't that just a city you pass through on the way to New York or Boston? Jesus.
"Haven't you got anything else – maybe some freelance gig overseas? What about Asia – I Love Asian women," I beg.
Yes, okay, I beg. My stomach rumbles loudly, the sound echoes in the office, bouncing off the ceiling and windows as if to announce the fact that I haven't eaten in days. This isn't due to my lack of funds, mind you. I'm a firm believer in intermittent fasting. My mother was morbidly obese. My two sisters were chubby kids; they're probably humongous bone crushers by now, although I haven't seen them in years. I don't want to fall into that rabbit hole, thank-you-very-much.
"Sit your bony-ass down!"
I sit.
I've known Shelly Cope for ten years. Hell, she single-handedly helped launch my career by placing me with the Volturi's. I have never heard her raise her voice to anyone before.
She plants her hands on the desk and leans forward. This is not a good look for her. Shelly Cope is not a beauty – not at middle age and doubtful in her youth. She has a large, rubbery face, with two spots of bright rouge on her doughy cheeks and a startling amount of mascara on her black eyes. They look like two raisins in an unbaked pie crust. Her nose is beaky, and her brow low, with a prominent widow's peak. Tufts of bright red hair with streaks of white create a halo around her head. Her teeth are large and bucky; she is one of those unfortunate women who can never quite close their mouths, and to add injury to insult, always seems to have red or pink, depending on the outfit, staining her yellowed enamels.
"Look, Edward," she begins. "You and I go way back, so I feel certain when I tell you this is your only option, and you'd be a damn fuckwit for not snatching it up with two fists, that you won't be insulted."
My mouth opens to protest, but nothing comes out; I'm stunned, silent. I've never heard her use foul language before.
Shelly sits back in her chair, closes her eyes, and sighs. The smell of Beechnut gum fills the air causing my stomach to churn. My mother chewed that gum like it was her full-time job with benefits. To this day, I hate the smell of peppermint.
I pinch my nose hard – a habit I've had since childhood and one I've been attempting to break almost as long.
"You're an asshole."
"Excuse me?"
"You're an asshole, Edward."
I start to protest, but she merely sits back in her chair and shrugs.
"Look, I didn't have an affair with Irina no matter what she or her daddy says."
"Eh, kid … I could care less who you screw – the point is other agencies do, and you're screwed as a result. You never had the reputation of being easy to work with … hence the reason I called you an asshole. Bout time someone said it to your face; they've been saying it behind your back for years.
Look … it's no sweat off my ass if you decide to take this gig or not. It's not like I'm going to retire on this one measly commission. But it might be the difference between regaining your footing in the fashion world or going back to East Bum fuck Washington to teach basic photography at EBU. Your call."
"Where did you say it's located? My mind is swimming … between my empty stomach and my too full head; I can't think straight.
"Providence," she says, with a loud snap of her gum.
"Providence?"
"It's in Rhode Island."
"I know where it is; I just don't understand why it's there."
"The founder's son moved there from France when he was a student at the design school. I guess they decided it was close enough to New York to pool models, but not so close that they had to constantly compete with other NY-based plus-size agencies," she shrugs. "It's not as if it's in East Japeepee, Edward. Providence is a decent-sized city – 45 minutes from Boston and only three hours from NYC."
I grab a fistful of hair and tug on it hard. It isn't what I want, and I don't want to say yes, but what choice do I have. I've lost everything; surely taking a few shots of some fatties for the Frenchies won't kill me.
I let out a sigh that sounds more like a groan.
"Okay."
She smiles a toothy grin and hands me the contract.
"You won't be sorry – I have a feeling this is going to be something big for you, Edward.
Big.
Ugh … she's got that right; I think to myself – my head is flashing with images of Amazonian women with huge thighs and jiggly arms. Arms that will grab you and force you to …
I chase the image away with a firm shake of my head. I don't even bother to read the contract … all I see is the dollar amount. It's not what I'm used to; not even close. But it's a start.
I swallow the rising bile, pinch my nose again, and grab the pen Shelly has in her outstretched hand.
E.A. Cullen
I feel like I just signed my soul to the devil.
And eight weeks later, I'll prove myself right.
***SAPF***
A/N: Takes deep breath ...
I've spent most of my life on one diet or another - sometimes I'm a size 12, most of the time I'm a size 16, and every so often I'll be in the 20's until vanity or my doctor intervenes.
I've never really been thin. I was a chubby little girl and a teen that dieted all the time. While college friends put on the perfunctory college 15, I put on 30.
Sigh.
It didn't help that I had a skinny mother and older sister. I was always the big girl. I grew up hearing - "If only you could lose some weight - you have such a pretty face."
It took me years before I realized that people and beauty come in all shapes and sizes. It took me a little longer to finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
In this story, Edward has a problem with women who have a little extra meat on their bones. He's got his reasons, which will be explored on his journey, but ... he isn't going to win a popularity contest until he gets there.
Even though you haven't met Bella yet, I think you're gonna love her. Yes, there will be prejudice and hurt feelings from time to time, because in this world of devaluing anyone whose size is in the double digits, what else would we expect? Still, for those who know my style ... there will be lot's of humor, too.
Now then ... get ready to enter the exciting world of plus-size modeling! I'm super excited to finally be able to share a story that is very dear to my heart.
I'll see you in two weeks. Please review!
PS: I know nothing about photography. Luckily I do know about Google. If I make any glaring mistakes, I'm sorry. A PM can help me fix those in a flash.
Ooh ... I made a little pun. We're off to a great start!
xo Jayne
PPS: A BIG thank you to Fran who has been my beta since 2013. We're on another journey, sis! And to Gail (Gabby 1017) for being a wonderful friend and pre-reader. I'd also like to thank Lizzie Page for the lovely banner! (I also have another gorgeous one made by Josephine Kukla. I plan on using both!)
Finally, I'd like to thank the ladies at The Lemonade Stand for the Sneak Peek this weekend. It meant the world to me. Love you guys!