-x-
Dear Dream Diary,
I had another dream today - if you can call it that.
Instead of the usual Chace Crawford serenading me, I was on a deck of a huge ship, and there were people running all around. I was desperately trying to get someone's attention, but no one would listen to me.
I remember the sense of panic and dread, slowly creeping up on me, and the pounding footsteps ringing in my ears as I ran up the stairs to the crew. There were five people - one with a large cap on, who I assumed was the captain. I was screaming, screaming at them, but they just stared at me like I was crazy and asked me if I needed any help.
They didn't know what I knew.
They didn't know that the ship was going to sink.
And right then I realized that my attempts were useless - they didn't care enough to really listen - so I went back to the deck and tried to gather up as many people as I could. A little girl with curly blonde pigtails and wide blue eyes looked at me, and her eyes were so filled with fear that it just made me feel horrible. I told her what was going to happen - but her mother just pulled her away and gave me a disgusted glance.
With that one look, she had ensured the death of everyone on that ship.
I found the lifeboats, and untied one and got it ready, trying to remember what I needed. And just as I was about to get in, there was a huge crack of lightning and the ship lurched forward. My head struck something hard and then everything was black.
The details are fading, even as I write this, and I can't be sure of anything that happened - except for one thing.
In that dream, I wasn't Maciara B, international supermodel.
I was Massie Block, normal teenage girl.
Sometimes I wish I could be Massie Block in real life.
"Maciara -- Thank Gawd you're here!" Ashley whisper-hissed in my ear the second I took a step on the set. She pasted on a fake cheery smile, nodding once in a while to anyone who looked important.
"Sorry, Ash - traffic was so incredibly crappy today." I apologized under my breath, flashing a bright smile at everyone as I walked, Ashley running to catch up with me. "Besides, it's only two minutes."
"Two minutes? Two minutes? Every minute is worth a million bucks, Maciara. You know that you're like a fashion icon. You're like Twiggy. Every freakin step you take is recorded on TV. There are thousands of people watching you all the time! You better get your act together—"
"Andre!" I exclaimed happily, cutting Ashley off abruptly as I reached over to hug the french photographer. "I'm so sorry I'm late!"
"Oh, no worries, Maciara," he answered. "It iz only two minutes, no?"
"It's only two minutes, yes," I confirmed, grinning triumphantly at Ashley. She was my agent, sure, and one of the best in Hollywood, but she could be super annoying and picky sometimes.
"Right," she sighed reluctantly, taking off her tan trench coat and throwing it over a nearby chair. She plopped down on it, cupping her face with her hand. "Two minutes."
"Okay, where do I go first?" I announced, looking around.
"To Sandra - she is a incroyable makeup artiste. You will love her, no?" Andre directed, spinning me around so I could see a blonde about twenty-five, who smiled and waved at me.
"Yes, I'm sure. Thanks Andre!" I blew him a kiss as I walked over to Sandra.
"Jungle, huh?" she asked me as I sat down on the comfy chair. "That's going to be fun."
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Smoky eyes, super long lashes, glossy lips, straightened hair. A perfect day look that took over two hours, and now, Sandra the 'incroyable makeup artiste' was just going to rub it all off so I could look like some wild tiger.
"Yeah," I answered as she ran a comb through my long hair. "Tons of fun."
Derrick Harrington
-x-
It was an ad in the magazine for men's cologne that started it all.
Even weirder, it was ad from GQ - a magazine that I promised myself I would never, ever read.
So why was it, then, that when I left for work that day, stopped by some random store to get a pack of gum, I felt an almost magnetic pull towards towards that magazine?
I bought it - $2.45. About two dollars too much for such a crappy waste of glossed paper. I stuffed it into my suitcase, kept it close to me as I rode up the elevator, and only dared to let out a breath when I was completely safe, in my office.
Only problem was, my office had glass walls.
Such a pretty design, my mother had cooed, when I first got the job. So elegant, so modern.
Damn it all, I thought, and grabbed the magazine, stuffing it into my tux as I pushed the clear door open and muttered some excuse to the secretary about going to the bathroom.
-x-
Once safely hidden in a stall, I took it out and started flipping through the annoying preppy advertisements until I got to the table of contents. I scanned the list with a suspicious eye, looking for what, I wasn't exactly sure.
Maciara B, a small-town girl turned Hollywood. Page 35.
The article was six pages long - two of them coloured advertisements with her posing in them. She had light, light brown hair that was silky and glossy in the light. Pouting, kissable lips. The stereotypical model face - high cheekbones, defined chin, brilliant smile. Slim and tall, with never-ending legs. Her eyes were closed in bliss as she bit into a bar of milk chocolate, her extra-dark, extra-long eyelashes curled up to the extreme.
The other ad was pretty much the same, except this time she was more in the middle ground then the main focus - which was some muscled dude with a chiseled chin and cocky smirk. The slogan was pathetic; wear this and she'll be after you like a wild thing.
The model, Maciara or something, was now wearing a skimpy, zebra-print dress, with siren-red heels and her hair teased into a chestnut mess of curls. Her eyes were open this time, so I could see the strange colour of them. They were very light, almost a gold colour. A word was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't seem to find it.
I sighed and closed the magazine, slipping it back into the inner pocket of my suit. I walked out of the stall and washed my hands, thinking.
It was only as I left the restroom and entered back into my office did I remember.
Amber.
Massie Block
-x-
"A trip to New York?" I stormed into Ashley's office first thing the next morning, my eyes blazing with fury. "Ashley! What. The. Hell."
The perky blond agent did that click thing with her tongue. "Tsk tsk, Maciara. Come awn, it's only for two weeks."
"Only? Are you kidding me? I have that CoverGirl photo shoot - the Niveau commercial, the Versace runway...I'll be missing so much, Ashley. I can't go." I pleaded with her, pouting my lips and batting my eyelashes.
She rolled her eyes. "Maciara, this is the biggest thing you've seen! You'll be there to mingle. Apparently there's some hawt party like in a week or something, where anyone who's anyone will be there. And you," she pointed at me with a long, french-manicured finger. "You are definitely someone. They'll be stars begging you to book the job with them in no time."
I plopped down on a comfy chair. "Begging?"
"Begging. And think of it as a vacation - the event's called Twinkle Twinkle. You know, cause everyone's like a superstar?" Ashley giggled. "And it's not until halfway through. You'll have a whole week to relax, then a couple days after."
"A vacation?" I bit my lip, considering.
"A vacation," Ashley confirmed, smirking as she took out a compact mirror and started reapplying her mascara. "So are you in?"
I swallowed. I sighed. I nodded.
"Yeah...I'm in."
