CHAPTER 14
What Some Would Dream Of

Hannah Benden, the mastermind of the whole AthletiTech line, turned out to be the woman with the impressive office and dark wood desk. And she was also the woman that then took us on tour of her even more impressive workplace. I was surprised that she didn't ask me any questions, like I thought she would. You know, a little interview. But she just smiled that bright smile and said, "Let me show you around this place."

"This place" was awfully big. A long time later…

"Well, this room will probably be the last room that I'll show you, and it's fitting, as it is probably the most important room of my whole business. The designing room." She opened a wooden door and walked inside, leaving us to follow her short curly dirty brown hair. Inside were big long and flat silver tables, on which were scattered long sheets of paper, desk lamps, pencils, pens, and rulers. Around eight people were hard at work at different tables, their heads bent over paper as they scratched on them with writing utensils.

"Everyone calls me the genius in this venture, but that isn't exactly the truth," Hannah Benden explained to us with a sweep of her arm at the room. "My secret is that I hire the best and brightest young designers in the world to come design clothes under me. I also design clothes as well, but nowadays, all the newest designs come from these bright men and women." The said bright men and women didn't even look up to see who was interrupting their peaceful working environment. We might as well have not existed to them. "They are my secret weapon," Hannah added, winking at us. When she winked, I finally noticed her blue eyes, bright and almost searing when compared to her pale white skin. And when I say pale white skin, I mean pale white skin. It looked as if she either had never been in the sun before or didn't know one existed and so never bothered to find out. Compared to her, anyone could look tan.

"Well, that's pretty much all I've got," she proclaimed as she moved toward the door with us trotting along behind her. "Not much, but enough to send your head spi—"

"Miss Benden!" All of us froze when a booming, irritated voice sounded from outside in the hallway. Interestingly enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw all of the previously impervious young designers flinch, although, to their credit, none of them brought their eyes up from their work. Later I figured out that this was as much to be a good employee as to avoid eye contact with the one person most feared in this company.

My first glimpse of this commandeering man didn't tell me that much. When he strolled briskly into view, I saw a tall, handsome young man. He had flaming red hair that was mussed up on purpose and smooth white skin free of freckles. On his face were jet black sunglasses, making his eyes hidden and his face hard to read. But, from the creases in his eyebrows, everyone could tell that this man was not happy right now.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked Hannah, his voice tinged with a heavy British accent. "I've been looking everywhere for you." As he spoke, my eyes drifted down his body. He had on a tucked in, pale blue button down shirt, with its collar flipped up around his neck. A thin black tie hung loosely around his neck to continue with the mussed up theme. Nicely tailored and creased black slacks, cinched with a black leather belt, went down to shiny black dress shoes. All in all, he looked like a member of a British boy band, dressed up for a day of photo ops.

As I examined him, he had let loose a spew of words. "We've got designs that need to be reviewed and approved, calls to return, magazine covers that need okaying and a meeting for the next cover opportunity. We've got the rendezvous with the advertising committee and the change in themes we need to discuss. The meeting with our insiders at Indigenous Activewear is also today and we still haven't seen the bloody model from our generous sponsorship offer..." His voice trailed off as Hannah smiled at him, slowly stepped aside, and then tilted her head toward me. I blinked when I noticed that now there was no one between me and this ranting—although very hot—lunatic.

"Oh," he said, stopping to catch his breath. "Dear god," he continued.

Hannah clapped her hands like she was a fifth grade teacher. "Let's move this party to my office, shall we?"

---zoOM---

"I knew we should have asked for a picture." The red head dragged a large hand over his face, sighing in frustration.

Hannah Benden was back behind her desk, as bright and happy as ever. Mr. Karlen, Addy, and I all sat in front of her, with me in between the two of them. I frowned, picking up the implied insult, and was readying a smart comeback when Hannah came to my defense. "Why?" she countered, her voice still as calm as ever. "I think she's quite lovely." She smiled at me benevolently. I thought she was pushing it with the "lovely." Lovely was the adjective used to describe Victorian princesses, not me. Hannah leaned in and whispered to us, "He's Lance Carmine, stuck-up lead designer."

"'Lovely?'" Lance scoffed while Hannah whispered. "Bollocks. And her sense of fashion is apparently nonexistent as that is the ugliest shirt I have ever seen."

"I find it eye-opening. Vintage. And it's Fall Out Boy. You can't go wrong with them." She winked at me again.

"I told you from the beginning, Benden, just forget this whole promotional scheme. Have Indigenous make a bloody fool of themselves with their IGPX pilots and let us have real models. The ones that sell clothing."

"I would guess you'd like the real models even less than pilots, as the models have no brain while the pilots at least have enough of one to operate a large, hulking machine."

"I. Do. Not. Care. I just want—"

"Stop it!" Addy's voice shot through the argument, clear and firm. Lance and Hannah stopped their exchange and glanced at her, while Mr. Karlen and I swiveled to stare at her as well. She leaned back into her chair and reached a hand up to rub her forehead. "Honestly, you two are acting like children," she said under her breath.

A moment of awkward silence followed Addy's outburst. I looked from Hannah to Lance. Hannah looked down ashamedly into her lap as she brushed something off her navy blue pencil skirt and Lance tugged at his tie and fiddled with his sunglasses. Finally I decided that this was my chance to say something and although I found myself scared to draw attention to myself (which is hardly ever the case), I steeled my will and opened my mouth.

"We—" I started, and then cleared my throat. I tried again. "Well, to be honest, I'm not too thrilled about being your model either." I saw Lance's eyebrows shoot up above the rim of his rectangular sunglasses lenses. "Right now, I'd much rather focus on being a pilot than being anything else. It'd take too much time away from my racing. Besides, I'm not exactly the modeling type…"

"Brilliant," Lance said, nodding vigorously. "Now, Miss Benden, we can forget this whole venture and—"

"No!" This time it was Mr. Karlen that interjected loudly. He gave me a stern and desperate look when I glanced at him to see what was wrong. "Please, Miss Benden, I assure you that Lotus is a very hard worker and fast learner. Whatever is needed, you can be assured that we can make time for it in our schedules." Hannah seemed to nod approvingly and shot a haughty look at Lance.

Meanwhile, I was becoming very angry at Mr. Karlen and his constant air of direness. "We can find another sponsor," I said, directing it straight to my manager. "This won't be the only offer that comes in. You want Platinum to do well, don't you? Then don't make me go through this. I hate models and modeling and cameras and all that publicity stuff. You might like it, but I don't. With all this stuff going on, I'm not going to be able to race as well."

"In that, you are wrong, Lotus," Addy said on my other side. Surprised, I turned to face her. "I actually think this is a good opportunity for you. This will not only expand your career, but be a source of good experiences. So, I recommend you go through with it and don't use the excuse that your performance on the track will suffer." She smiled at me, but I just stared back. What was going on? Was she on drugs or something?

Hannah was by now nodding enthusiastically, her short hair bobbing along, up and down. "Besides, Lotus," she said kindly, drawing my attention back to her, "I need you for my vision. I need you to help make my clothes great." She then held a little theatrical pause, in which I saw Lance put his face in his hands in bitter defeat. "Then it is decided!" Hannah proclaimed, standing up. "Lotus Carmarand, you are to be AthletiTech's newest female model. Welcome aboard." She stuck out a pale white hand which I had no choice but to shake.

---zoOM---

The next day started foggy and grey, with a hazy bright smudge as the sun trying to burn through the thin layer of clouds. Unfortunately for Benjamin Bright, today he wouldn't be able to say his (by now) almost copyrighted opening sentence. "It's a beautiful day for an epic race!" was turned into, "The fog has set the dramatic scene of the second race of the second week of the IGPX!" Bright's attempt at a mysterious-esque voice completely failed as he reverted back to his peppy old self toward the end of the sentence. "Today's its Velshtein and Sledge Mamma, two old veterans in the sport both with their eyes set on a victory!"

"Well, of course," Jax commented absently, fiddling with his blue and silver cell phone. "They wouldn't ever have their eyes set on a defeat, now would they?"

"You never know." Beckem was sprawled next to me on the maroon couch, staring with a bored eye at the giant television screen. "Last time it almost seemed like Sledge Mamma was giving Satomi an early Christmas present."

Jax frowned at his cell phone. "I want an early Christmas present."

"Here," Beckem said. Jax looked up just in time to get a pillow to the face. "Merry Christmas."

Jax snapped his cell phone shut and tossed it on the low, glass surface coffee table in front of us. He grabbed the pillow roughly in his hand, a mischievous grin spreading from his lips to his whole face. "Dude, don't even start. I will own you." He chucked the pillow in one fluid movement back at Beckem. Beckem lunged to the side to avoid it, grabbing it out of midair and then throwing it back.

"Children, children!" I leaned forward with both arms outspread, interrupting the pillow death match. "Behave yourselves," I said in a scolding tone. Jax lowered his head, as if he was ashamed of what he had done. Beckem just gave both of us a silly grin and settled back again to watch the pre-race Benjamin Bright spiel.

The rest of yesterday had been spent poring over film and tactics with the amicable Addy. Not a moment of rest was allowed with that one. Letting us have most of yesterday free was already too much time wasted on relaxing. Back to work, back to work.

Work. Ha. That reminded me of my modeling/sponsorship gig. That sucked too. The fact that amicable Addy didn't stick up for me and, in fact, shot me down. The argument that modeling for the clothing line would take away too much time from racing was the only really legitimate excuse I had for not doing it (other than the fact that I completely and utterly hate every single aspect remotely associated to the modeling world) and Addy completely murdered it. So now I was stuck with this job and this company. Me: unhappy.

"What's wrong, Lotus? You look like you just ate a lemon." Jax was looking at me intently, a concerned expression gracing his face. Behind him, I could see that Bright was still happily blabbing his mouth off.

I shook my head. "It's nothing."

"Oh yeah, how'd that modeling thing go?" Beckem asked, glancing at me. My face immediately clouded over. His right eyebrow lifted. "That good, huh?"

"I couldn't get out of it," I said, sighing and sinking back into the cushiness of the back of the couch. "I tried and failed. So now I am condemned to being the face of AthletiTech, or whatever it is called."

"At least their name is cool," Jax said, shrugging and looking at me for approval.

"Right," I said flatly.

"Look, Lotus, think of it this way," Beckem said. "A million other girls would kill to be in your position right now. Getting offered a modeling gig for a clothing line would be a dream come true for them. For you, sure, it's a pain because you don't think the way they do, but you could at least try. I mean, I'm sure when you were little you wanted to be on the cover of your little girlie magazines at least once."

"Actually," I started, not without a little pride, "I never read girlie magazines. I've always just wanted to be an IGPX pilot." I watched in satisfaction as Beckem's face dulled with my easy rejection of his point. "But I get what you are saying," I said, by way of making him feel a little better. "I shouldn't be a brat and complain about getting a chance a million other girls are wishing for."

"Yeah. I mean, if you think about it, you are better off than a lot of them. You're an IGPX pilot and a model. Which means you are famous as well as hot." Jax grinned at me and I smiled back, although I rolled my eyes.

"The race is set to start in just a matter of minutes, folks, and the sun has thankfully started to burn away the thinning fog! Get ready for another intense race in the IGPX! We'll be back after this quick commercial break!" Bright's immense face faded to black and then a commercial for cat food came on, featuring—what do you know—Luca, Satomi's very own pilot cat.

"Cute," I commented as Luca ran lazily across the screen, showing off his silky and shiny coat, his tail up high and twitching. After the commercial, Bright's voice came back on, but the screen was swooping in at the starting line on the IGPX track, where six ginormous mechs were getting settled in their starting positions. My heart skipped a beat when the shot zoomed in onto Cunningham's mech. Good luck, I sent him a mental message.

"Well, then. Shall we?" Jax turned to look at the two of us. I nodded and all three of us leaned in as one to each pick up a legal pad of lined paper along with a pen from the coffee table. Note taking time.

---zoOM---

Just as expected by most analysts, Velshtein pulled off a hardy victory (those analysts could breath a sigh of relief; their jobs were safe for one more race), but it hadn't come as easy as most expected. Based on Sledge Mamma's opening performance this season, it seemed they were just about ready to get demoted to the IG2s, but it's amazing what a week of training can do. Sledge Mamma was, for the most part, steady and solid; they returned blow for blow and hit for hit. All in all, they looked like how they used to look, which is how they are supposed to look in order to stay in the IG1s.

Velshtein still came out on top, however. Their pilots' skills were still top notch and that's why their pilots were once again standing in the winner's circle with Benjamin Bright at the end of the race. For Sledge Mamma this match did little more than prove that they were not, in fact, pushovers.

"Another flawless victory for the members of Team Velshtein…" Benjamin Bright was gushing, drawing out the "a" vowel sound in "another" as if he was an auctioneer at an auction. I rolled my eyes at the voice of the IGPX and was just about to dismiss the whole matter when Bright announced, "Cunningham, overall, how did you feel about this race?" Then I remembered. The last time Bright and Cunningham met in the winner's circle, bad things had happened.

Crap.

I did a quick survey of my two best friends and teammates. Jax was still focused on his legal pad, putting the finishing touches on a doodle that he had drawn when he was bored during the race. But Beckem was watching the interview. Granted, he was doing it with an extremely bored look on his face, but he was still paying attention.

I clasped my hands together and squeezed them tightly, praying to every god out there that Bright didn't ask something embarrassing about Cunningham's personal life. I could deal with it if I was watching it by myself, but with my friends next to me? Oh dear lord. I would contemplate suicide.

Bright went from Cunningham to the Velshtein Midfielder and then to the Defender. Then he moved back to Cunningham and I thought for sure this was it. The moment that would make my life miserable. But Bright simply asked Cunningham some baloney question about if he had been feeling confident about the race or not and then the pilots trudged away back to the locker rooms. I breathed out a sigh of relief, maybe a little louder than I intended to, because Beckem's eyes followed me as I allowed myself to fall back into the back of the couch. His eyes held a question about why I seemed so relieved, but I ignored him.

As my eyes skimmed over what I had written on my legal pad of paper, I found that a part of me felt a little disappointed. Maybe a little part of me had wanted Bright to ask Cunningham about if we were together or not. Maybe that little part of me had wanted to see what Cunningham would have said. Would he have denied it or acknowledged it? He had said that night that he would make all those rumors true. So we were together, I could only assume. Still, it felt a little weird and oddly rushed. Like, really, I had just met the guy and now we were all lovey-dovey? I'm not even that way with Jax or Beckem, and I've known them for ages. But maybe that was just an awkward best friend kind of thing. You know, you'd never get together with your best friend…

I don't know. My train of thought was derailing quickly. All I could figure was that it felt a little unreal still, Cunningham and me. Maybe he found me wildly attractive and so that's why we got involved so fast. Or maybe he just wanted to psych me out as a rookie and use it to his advantage later. That's probably what Addy'd say to me, if I asked her.

Or maybe. Or maybe this whole life I now led was just too crazy and unreal to believe in the first place. And this little thing between Cunningham and me was just the richly sweet, imaginary icing on the amazingly delicious, imaginary cake.

A/N: First of all, I should apologize for the long wait.

Second of all, I should apologize for the mistake I made in the last chapter. I am completely mortified that I spelled my own character's name wrong. I guess it was just because I hadn't written this story in a while and forgot. Or, it could have been because Mircosoft Word only recongizes the spelling of Beckem as Beckham, and so it got huffy when I kept on spelling it Beckem, which to Mircosoft Word, is wrong. Oh well, whichever one it was, it's over with. I'm just sorry. Forgive me?

I'm pretty far into the next chapter already. Lotus's first photo shoot...haha, that should be a whole bucket load of joy. c:

Anyway, thanks to my lovely (you guys are now Victorian princesses and princes) reviewers. And mucho thanks to the creators of AthletiTech and Indigenous Activewear (they know who they are). Mua!

Until next time...!