Chapter 5: Jezebel
"Hold still, you have a fly-away."
"Come on, Crys, that's the fifth time you fixed my hair."
"Well, learn how to tame that mane!"
"This isn't my usual style."
"But it looks so hot." She smirked.
Mac heaved his shoulders. "It takes me forever to get this way, I don't have time to waste, ya know?"
Crystal sighed and stopped with Mac in the middle of the avenue. After licking two fingers, she smoothed down the frizz sticking up from the left side of his parted, dirty-blonde hair. Crystal took the cover of Mac's mousy personal assistant and make-up artist, and Mac, as expected, the 'star' model. They stopped in front of the building and made sure it was the right address, it looked unassuming and gloomy on the outside, as most businesses in New York did. Once they entered the big lobby they were assaulted with pulsing pop music and snazzy neon lights buzzing around giant Warhol inspired portraits of the agency's most successful models. It was all akin to a fashion circus.
"Oh my goodness! Look! I have to try this!" Crystal sprinted over to the waiting area. On the floor was a purple and black checkerboard rug and she plopped down on a chair shaped like a giant red high heel. She had to scoot up to the toe section of the heel to at last have a comfortable position.
"Well, the concept was cool." She shrugged and then eyed the women gliding back and forth in couture fashions. "I don't think some of these women know what food is." She mumbled, now embarrassed to be wearing a brown and cream tweed skirt-suit ensemble to create the 'plain Jane' effect for her cover.
Mac stifled a laugh and went up to the chrome plated front desk. All he had to wear was his slacks, pale gray dressy shirt and black blazer. The receptionist swung around and stopped filing her metallic blue nails. She peered up at him with sloping blue eyes, heavily made up with blue and silver eyeshadow and black eyeliner tarred across her upper and lower lash lines. Her tangerine toned hair was parted severely on the right side and practically shaved, the long half folding down in a giant frizzy bang over her right eye in a punk peek-a-boo style. She wore a sour expression; her gaze seemed out of focus but had a certain shrewd quality. Mac saw his reflection a thousand times over in the silver spangles and blue sequins that marred her tight outfit. He could tell beneath the goop and discreet face-lifts she had once been a beautiful woman, and especially when he saw her young modeling portrait hanging over the desk as if she reigned supreme.
"Hello, Ms. Nichols, I'm here for my appointment."
"Call me Stella."
"Stella. My name is Mackenzie Delancey and that's my assistant over there, Jodie Meyer. She'll handle all my inquiries and business dealings with this Agency."
"A smug one, aren't you? We haven't even signed you yet."
"Oh you will. I've worked with the greatest, as you'll see in my portfolio. This is small potatoes, really, but, for what it is, it's the best." He rapped on the table with wide eyes. "At least that's what my assistant tells me…wave to the woman, Jodie."
Crystal stopped pretending to stare into space, she pushed up her huge, red-rimmed glasses and waved shyly. "He's the greatest and handsomest model you'll ever hire…in the entire…world." She beamed and then snorted with laughter. "Heh heh, that almost rhymed, didn't it Mr. Delancey, didn't it?"
Mac shook his head toward Stella. "I don't know why I keep her, she's a half wit, but she has a wonderful gift for following instructions and makes the best coffee. Like a puppy she is. Her make-up skills are above par." He cupped his mouth halfway. "I think she's secretly in love with me, bless her dear heart." He whispered too loudly.
Stella rolled her eyes at Crystal and looked Mac up and down with an eye of approval. "Well, well, well, you must be Claude's eleven o'clock. I received a glowing phone call from Danielle Reynolds. She's one of the top photographers used by this Agency in the last ten years. In fact, she modeled for Claude many, many years ago. I remember because I was a model for him too. Claude apparently adores her!"
Mac raised an eyebrow at the sudden stridency in her tone, but she cleared it quickly and he said nothing.
"You do have your resume and portfolio with you? I'll have to bring them into Claude first. He's the director here." She continued a bit more cheerfully.
"Can't I just go inside? I'm not a man known for being patient." Mac made a move for the door and she stood up and placed a long fingernail on his chest.
"Nope. Claude doesn't waste his time; he's a very busy man. If he doesn't like your face from your pictures, do you think he'd want to meet you in person?" She explained. "You'll wait here. There's no red-carpet treatment in this place, that's for sure." She said dryly and went into Claude's studio alongside her desk.
Mac shrugged, grabbed a handful of complimentary dry mints, and joined Crystal. He situated himself in the center of another art-deco chair that was shaped like a pair of woman's lips. He scratched his head and yawned loudly.
"I hope you know what you're doing sending me here, Jodie. I could easily be on a plane to Milan or Paris by now."
Crystal giggled again and looked over a phony itinerary, which was actually a list of growing suspects. She made sure to put Claude Dupont and Stella Nichols on top, along with a section for their positions at the agency and their 'suspicious' mannerisms.
"Don't you worry, Mr. Delancey, Milan and Paris will be sorry to have not returned our phone calls once they realize you're working in this classy place."
Mac's watchful gaze surveyed the lobby and he noticed a very young woman with black hair stop before a photo on the wall and look on saddened. She quickly pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes, to prevent her make-up from running.
"Go for it, Mac. I bet she's the grieving best-friend." Crystal said sympathetically, but scribbled in her notebook. "And get a name!"
Mac agreed and approached the girl casually, pretending to look at the images. He bumped her shoulder and she jumped.
"Oh! I'm so sorry! I was so enthralled with these photographs I didn't see where I was going. Sometimes I'm clumsy."
The woman smiled and hid her tissue in her fist. "It's alright, are you a new model here? I've never seen your face before…though, you do look familiar." She examined him closely.
"Oh me? Yes, I'm new here, but I'm a model by trade. I've done magazine work, catalogs, cologne ads, that sort of thing. And yourself?"
"Similar. Right now I'm working on swimsuits and perfume. Claude tells me I have a sultry Ava Gardner quality they are trying to extract for the latest perfume, Noir. Except, my hair looks like a tumbleweed after a Tornado in Texas." She patted it down self-consciously.
Mac nodded slowly. The girl was barely past twenty, but she did have that brunette 'vixen' look with narrow dark eyes, full lips and high cheekbones.
"He apparently knows his stuff, but I like the wild hair. I think you'll be great for it."
"Thank you. My name is Lindsey Brewster."
"Mackenzie Delancey. You can call me, Mac."
"Well Mac, just so you know, Claude is picky, stubborn and a highly opinionated perfectionist to the point of exasperation. I mean, he can make you want to literally kill him!"
Mac heard Crystal sneeze and she kept writing down more observations.
"Ehh, I know the type. He wears black turtlenecks and blazers of every color too, right? Has weekly manicures, Middle-aged with black hair streaked with white that he slicks back like a figure eight ball, trims his goatee until it just skims his jaw line and even plucks his eyebrows for an incisive yet startled look that throws people off balance."
"Awesome! You do know the type!"
"Well, I saw his picture around Stella's desk too." He pointed in that direction and noticed Stella had returned to answer the torrent of calls, but Claude had not come out.
Lindsey laughed and Mac decided it was time to bring up real business. "I don't mean to pry, but I noticed you crying while looking at this picture."
He touched the photo. Four of the girls who had died, and Lindsey, were posing in fifties garb in a happy-go-lucky shot around a pink Cadillac.
"Oh! I didn't mean for anyone to see that, it's just that, well…it's was on the news last night, they were found dead! I couldn't believe it! I've worked with these girls for six months and we became real close, like best friends." She pointed to the Spanish girl in the center. "Ana was my roommate too, a tough chick, but utterly feminine. She always had our backs, she said. I wish I could have had hers before someone killed her. Did you hear about their deaths, Mac?"
Mac heard Crystal choke as she paced the lobby and stared at Lindsey uncertain.
"I don't think I have."
"Oh it was horrible! The news says it was some kind of skin disorder that affected their vital organs. I can't imagine. They didn't even show the photos of the disorder. I would have really like to have seen them."
Mac stared at her oddly. "Why on earth?"
"Because, maybe it's something catching or recognizable. If modeling doesn't pan out, I'd like to be a nurse."
"If it were recognizable, I'm sure the news would have reported it."
"Oh no. They wouldn't want to scare everyone."
"Why would they be scared?" Mac pressed.
"Well, because like I said, it might have been catching and disfiguring maybe…oh, I have to run, my boyfriend is waiting for me." She waved toward a tall brown-haired fellow who entered the lobby, a college football type, still insecure, yet hotheaded. Mac backed away.
"Go ahead. Don't want him to see me talking to you and have him get jealous."
"Oh, Brian always gets jealous, but he really has nothing to worry about. I have him convinced that most of the male models umm, are…well, that they…"
Mac grinned and dipped his wrist. "Sway the other way?"
Jodie sighed relieved. "Yeah, that. Do you?"
Crystalyn's warning gaze nearly burned a hole through him and he shook his head. "That I ain't, but if Brian has any doubts, you can just tell him you're not sure, I can live with that."
"Thanks, Mac! You're really down to earth I guess. Gotta run!"
Lindsey flew past Crystal and grabbed her boyfriend's arm before he made a move toward Mac and they left the building. Mac returned to his lip chair.
"I see you were quick to add Lindsey to your hit list. You're really roping the herd in, aren't you?"
"Yeah, she has a weird fascination with wanting to see the damage on the girls, and isn't it funny how she assumed it would be something disfiguring?"
"Hmm, she did mention she would have liked to have helped her friend Ana from the killer."
"Exactly, Mac. Who said they were even murdered? That's hypothetical. Of course they were."
"Most likely the news, they need the ratings. But they also reported that the 'disfigurement' left acne and pock like scars. That's the worst thing that could happen to a model. It's like losing a limb."
Crystal shrugged. "What would I know? I'm not model material."
Mac shook his head. "That's not true at all." He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "Ya got great legs."
She blushed and shoved him away. "Yes it is true, that I'm not model material, I mean. I'm too short, not skinny enough and I have too much of a tan."
"You're only thinking of the runway models. They're the willowy ice queens." Mac noted.
Crystal discreetly stroked his cheek. "Speaking of tans, I knew we forgot to do something. Your natural Norwegian Pallor has returned ever since you stopped working with Dani. I can see your inner marshmallow."
"What? It's not that bad! Don't worry, they'll tan me up and roll me in a baby-oil bath in no time. It's swimsuit season, remember?"
"Uck, I hope not too much!"
"I'll tell them I want slightly toasted, not roasted."
"Sure, like a toasted, crunchy, carmelized, almond praline, custard rich vanilla…mmmm! That's fine."
Mac stared at her skeptically. "Are we still talking about me, or Good Humor?"
Crystal snapped to attention. "Why, Good Humor Ice cream of course! Toasted almond pops are the best."
Mac grinned slyly. "Oookayyy. Speaking of tans, where does yours come from when you're a Dugan."
Crystal grinned. "My dad may be Dugan but my mom was Catalano, from Palermo, Sicily."
"Oh, so that's where those deep, dark and mysterious eyes of yours come from."
Crystal smiled. "You make me sound like a vamp. And don't forget the dimples, well, they're from my mom anyway."
Mac gazed at her, deciding no matter how plain she tried to look, her natural attractiveness shone through. "I like the dimples. Sweet, yet saucy."
Crystal had a sudden, desperate urge to kiss him on the spot, but instead she glanced down at the floor and twisted her feet shyly. The door to Claude's studio swung open and he emerged flustered. Mac could already tell his manner was somewhat high-strung.
"Paulo? Paulo? Stella, where's Paulo? I told him I wanted a lemon Iced tea almost a half-hour a go! Now the lemon will be soggy and the iced tea too bitter. When he does come with my lunch, send him back immediately for a new tea. I don't know what a person has to do to get good hired help these days…and there you are! I told Stella to send you in an hour ago."
Mac approached confidently. "Aww, it was only five minutes really, besides, she's terribly busy with the phones."
"Don't contradict me, young stud. Come!" He snapped.
Claude pulled him by the arm toward his studio and Crystal followed along, almost getting the door slammed in her face. However she came in, not surprised to see his studio had the same gaudy pop-art décor as the lobby. She quietly took a seat on the electric blue leather sofa. Claude pulled Mac's jacket off and had him stand in the center of the room.
"Let me get a full body look at you, turn…now the other way…stand in profile. Nice jaw line, love those tense, rounded muscles that bulge out of it. Those can give you a steely, animalistic dominance of the feline persuasion or a soft and boyish look. The hair is much too sixties Robert Redford, we'll have to change that, perhaps go a little lighter, it's looking like day-old mushy oatmeal. Brown is much too harsh for you. I want Male models, not A-sexual ken dolls." He ranted.
Mac just stood at attention and forced down laughter as Claude made his observations and patted down his arms.
"A perfect piece of white meat and white bread. Wonderful muscle tone. I can only imagine what's underneath. Take your shirt off."
Mac was about to protest until he saw Crystal nod quickly. He had to play this up like it was all old hat to him. He reluctantly removed it. Claude gaped at the scar that ran across his left side.
"Ruined! What is that?"
"Uhh, bar fight? You should see the other guy."
" I didn't figure you for that type. Fine, we can work around it. It's not too noticeable."
Mac had to grin, remembering when Dani said the same thing after he lifted his shirt for her first inspection.
"Such a wide smile! Clean, white teeth. A bit gummy, but nonetheless good-natured and pleasing, very boy next door." Claude slapped his muscles. "You're all upper body, massive amounts of chest hair, but fortunately for you, Tom Selleck has made it in vogue."
"Right, because I can take razor if I have to for some pictures, but nobody is coming near me with hot wax."
"Fine, fine, but we'll still need pruning shears. Your back is smooth, the shoulders, we can work with these tufts. Now, moving lower, I can tell the legs are a bit scrawny, but you do have quite a package."
"Uhh…hey! And my legs are not scrawny, they're lean. I run a lot and swim regularly." Mac tried to defend himself.
"King Louis the XV would have just said he was a great lover, that's why he was always posing leg out in his portraits. At least he had good legs, because he was ugly as sin. Your modesty is disarming, but you can't fool me. I've been in this industry too long and seen too much."
"I'm very athletic, and was always slim as a teenager and stuff so…" Mac was growing riled.
"Calm your nerves. I'm being honest. There's no such thing as perfection in this world. You'll bulk them up soon enough, just like we'll get rid of the Casper the friendly ghost skin tone. It may work for models in Iceland, but this is America, home of tan and the brave."
He peered uncomfortably close in Mac's face. "Fantastic complexion, but we'll need to trim those eyebrows, there should be two. If Groucho Marx and Grace Kelly had a son, it'd be you! Those Adriatic eyes are compelling, but they are a little too big and rounded. It kind of gives you a dazed and goofy-you caught me sneaking in the cookie jar look, but nonetheless, it also accentuates your obvious charm and supposed innocence. We can work with that."
Mac was growing annoyed with being on display and Lindsey was right. He could drive anyone into the dirt with his fleshly opinions. He could only imagine the scrutiny Claude put women under.
"Are you almost finished?"
"Raise your pants, I just want to see what lies beneath."
Mac did as he was told and Claude squeezed his calves. "Solid as a rock, but slightly bowlegged. We'll have to definitely work on your strut; it's horrendous! You bend your knees too much, as if you're about to tackle someone. This is modeling, not the NFL. Turn your feet in when you walk; you're a full-grown man, not a penguin trekking across the North Pole. I know your type, you're the guy who sits on the subway and takes up half the row because you have to spread your legs wide open."
"Paaaaahahahahaha!" Crystal had to grab her gut from her laughter and Mac could have sliced her with his stare. Claude suddenly realized there was someone else present in the room. He frowned.
"Who is this person? Why is she here?"
Mac craned his neck, trying to control his temper. "That's my personal assistant, where I go, she goes. You have your demands, and so do I."
"Fine, we'll keep Jane Eyre."
"Her name is Jodie, and anything financial and business related goes through her, plus, she's my make-up artist."
"I can only imagine what else she does for you." Claude pulled Crystal under the spot light with Mac.
"Who is she trying to kid here?" He pulled off her glasses, and immediately undid the French braid she had worked over an hour on. He tousled his fingers through her hair and twirled her in a circle while he took off her jacket.
"If she is going to be seen walking around here and being your representative then she needs a make-over too, and pronto! We only appreciate quality here."
"Excuse me? I like myself just the way I am." Crystal retorted.
"Yes, Frieda Kahlo said the same thing I'm sure, but she also didn't have to shove her god-awful ugly self portraits down our throats either. I will not have you staining Jezebel's pristine reputation. You are obviously a beautiful woman and if you want to step foot into my building you will show it. Is that clear?"
Mac nudged her with his elbow. "Yes, that's clear, Mr. Dupont. But I thought you said nobody is perfect in this world."
"Ahh, I forgot to add, until they come to Jezebel's modeling studio! You will only call me, Claude. The both of you come with me. When you return here tomorrow, I expect to see you come in with the same care and precision in your appearance that we're about to bestow upon you now."
Crystal smiled giddy. A free makeover was every girl's dream. Mac was less than enthusiastic, but it was all part of the cover game. As they followed behind Claude toward the dressing and make-up rooms Mac spoke to Crystal quietly.
"I have a feeling that somebody in this building was severely burned by Claude."
"Ya think? And now they exact revenge on all his new models to make him look guilty…or just shove it in his face like a Kahlo painting. Although, for someone who just lost six clients to horrid deaths, he doesn't look too broken up about it."
"I know. What if he's truly demented? And these poor girls didn't follow his instructions so he mutilated them? He's definitely staying up high on the list."
"Yeah, and I also added Paulo, because he doesn't know how to deliver Iced tea in a timely fashion."
Mac ducked his head to hide his smile. "You're really something, Crys."
"I am taking no prisoners, Mac. Somebody in this hot air balloon is going to pay for what was done to these girls, I promise you that."
Mac gripped her arm assuredly. "I know, Crystal. And they're gonna pay hard."