London, England – Caustically Beautiful

Shifting in place, John had one eye on Anna as she stood next to him and the other on the monitors giving him all the possible views of the stage. He stepped just to the left, to put the rest of the studio in his sights from behind the curtain that separated the backstage, and swept his gaze over it before tapping his ear. "Status?"

"All clear. Sweeping again in five minutes."

"Keep me updated." John took a breath and turned back to the stage where the interviewer straightened the blank cards in his hand and shifted his focus to one of the teleprompters while breaking into a wide smile at his audience.

"And welcome back everyone. I told you all, before the break, that we had a very special guest this evening and I promise, I wasn't jerking your chain. That's not what we do here at Simply Sampson. Here we offer a fresh perspective and, simply, we offer Sampson."

He grinned again as a playback of canned chuckles drowned out the huffs or snorts that accounted for the audience's take on the joke. Sampson swallowed, consulted his blank cards, and cocked his head to the side. "And so, without further ado, it is my pleasure to invite you to welcome our surprise guest for the evening: the acclaimed former model and current fashion designer, Ms. Anna Smith."

John flicked his focus to Anna as she took a deep breath and walked out onto the stage. Despite the height of her heels and the relative tightness of the dress the costuming department insisted she wear, Anna strode out with confidence. Her posture, with her shoulders rolled back, held the level of manufactured aloofness that models took on the catwalk and John smiled. The perfect defense already erected as Anna leaned forward to shake Sampson's hand over the length of his desk. Part of John prickled when he caught Sampson's obvious flick of attention toward Anna's breasts from the way the handshake forced her to lean toward the other man but Anna ignored it and perched herself on the edge of the chair near the pointless desk facade.

She smiled and waved at the crowd, flashing them a genuine but still tight smile. The movements of her arm and head echoed pageant behavior but still won over the polite applause of the audience. And, after a minute, she turned to address Sampson's attempts to bring the focus back to him and his blank cards.

"I must say, I'm so grateful you agreed to come on the show Ms. Smith." Sampson turned his shit-eating grin at a camera. "Especially since so many people said I could never get you to speak with me."

"In another life they wouldn't have been wrong."

"Then, I must ask," Sampson leaned toward her as if Anna might share a conspiratorial secret or declaration with him while thousands of people watched over the television. "Why did you agree to this interview?"

"Because we all sink to our lowest at some point Terry." Anna passed Sampson a smile and John noted the twitch of Sampson's lip at that. "But I thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity to come and promote my new line. And since you were the first one to offer the chance I thought I'd take the risk of making a fool of myself in accepting the offer because I'd be a bigger fool if I said no."

"Not sure what to say to that."

"Then it's best to say nothing at all." Anna smiled at him, the tightness of her lips matching the slight frown in Sampson's cheeks.

He cocked another false smile and clacked his cards against the desk. "True enough. But what I'd like you to say something about is your arson charge."

John noted the slight flinch Anna hid with a forced smile. "Now, now. We all know that I was never charged."

"Then your studio didn't burn down?"

"I didn't say that." Anna crossed one leg over the other. "I simply said that I was never charged."

"Then maybe I should ask this question differently," Sampson leaned toward her again. "Did you burn down your studio?"

"Well, I'll say this," Anna lowered her voice to a stage whisper, "Accidents happen when you're dealing with flammable fabrics."

"Luck no one was hurt in the fire."

"It's something I thank God about every day." Anna shifted in place on the sofa. "And one of the reasons I made sure my new studio only uses fire retardant materials, has strict fire guidelines, and even took inspiration from the event to design my new line."

"Your new line was inspired by fire retardant material?"

"No, my new line is inspired by fire."

Sampson quirked an eyebrow, "Isn't that tempting fate?"

"I think of it more as taking inspiration from tragedy." Anna took a deep breath. "We can't predict what will happen to us but we can take control of how it affects us. So I decided I'd own the tragedy of an accident and make it mine."

"By inspiring an entire line of design after fire?"

"It worked for Katniss Everdeen." Anna shrugged and smiled at the audience and their titter of chuckles. "No reason I can't see if I could let some of that good fortune rub off on me when I try to make my own version of the Girl on Fire."

"Fair enough." Sampson swallowed and cleared his throat. "But it must be said, Ms. Smith, that it's still a surprise."

"People take inspiration from weirder sources."

"It's more that you're willing to so publicly bare your source of inspiration." Sampson almost leered at her with his next comment, "And yourself, if the latest spread you did for the magazines was any indicator of your devotion to the bit."

Anna's jaw shifted and John stiffened a moment as he noted the clench of Anna's fingers into the material of the sofa under her. After a second she flashed a smile to the audience, offering a placating gesture with her half-shrug. "You've got to be daring in this industry to make waves."

"I don't think the waves you're hoping to make in the industry will come from your fire-based designs or an upcoming line Ms. Smith." John ground his teeth at the note of contempt in Sampson's voice.

"No?"

"Of course not." Sampson passed another hollow laugh toward the audience but they did not respond.

Anna frowned, "I'm not sure I follow."

"I'm saying that your career wasn't founded on your designs or even your ability as a model." Sampson sat back slightly, as if holding a position above Anna.

"Then what could I possibly have built an image and a brand on, Mr. Sampson?"

"Your body obviously." Sampson snorted and turned to the audience to address his next comments, "I can't be the only one here, and I'd bet good money I'm not, who never saw you transitioning into design after you finished modeling."

"It's true, not many people saw it coming."

"And why would they?" Sampson leaned back toward Anna, his tone cutting enough that John saw Anna's flinch. "No one saw you as a serious designer."

"You might be surprised, Mr. Sampson, to learn I'm not at all surprised by that particular sentiment." Anna's body took on a rigid quality that spoke of an icy wall of armor erecting itself around her as she continued to speak. "You're not the first person to suggest that. You're not even the most inventive in your delivery."

"Then you're aware that most models don't do much after they change careers." Sampson adjusted his posture in his chair, leaning over an arm on his desk as he held up his blank cards and pantomimed reading from them. "In fact, most models peak at the age of thirty and are never heard from again."

Sampson made a face at his audience, "They weren't usually popular because of their brains and when the bodies weren't attractive anymore, neither were they."

"That's in the eye of the beholder."

"Well, no one wanted to behold them anymore." Sampson's comment earned another dose of canned laughter to cover the cough from the audience.

"Perhaps that's true." Anna's smile tightened. "I admit, I've been exceedingly lucky with not only my career but also with the trajectory I've gotten to take so I could seek a new career when the first one finished."

"Then you agree that it must be said, there were few expectations for your work."

"No, I don't think that can be said."

Sampson's eyebrows almost achieved the impossible task of rising to meet his receding hairline. "You don't think it can be said?"

"Of course not since there weren't any expectations at all for me." Anna leaned toward Sampson but her posture no longer invited comment or brooked argument. John even flattered himself to think Sampson shrunk back slightly under Anna's icy tone. "And if we're addressing 'what must be said' about the world of modeling, it's worth noting for your lovely audience that no one expected anything of me when I entered my career in modeling so why would they have expected anything after that?"

"Exactly." Sampson's hand half-slapped his desk. "That's what I've been saying. There's not a-"

"I wasn't finished." Anna waited the half second it took for surprise to register itself over the moment of self-congratulations etched on Sampson's face. Now the twitch in the man's jaw was one from fear and not irritation. A twitch that offered Anna another step of gain as all her comments directed at Sampson as if the audience were no longer there.

"What I wanted to say was that no one expects anything of women. Except to do all the cleaning, earn a salary less than most of her male coworkers, take care of children, feel guilty about life choices, feel guilty of wanting or daring to take pleasure during sex, bear the burden of sexual harassment alone, and then try to enter male-dominated careers while breaking glass ceilings and risking slitting their own throats on them."

Anna shifted in her seat again, "No one expects anything of women. And they especially don't expect anything of them in an industry as horribly competitive and misogynistic as modeling and fashion. They're nothing but dolls to dress up, show off, and then gawk at while wanking off in bedrooms and bathrooms."

Anna shrugged, "But I was lucky and I was smart. Smart enough to figure out that since I was only valued for the size of my waist and the shape of my tits and the alignment of my ass, I could use those assets to my advantage."

"You can't say-"

"What?" Anna blinked, as if completely caught off guard by the uncomfortable tone in Sampson's voice. "I can't say 'tits and ass'? Is that what I can't say?"

"We're on-"

"I'm sure some nice person in a booth somewhere is bleeping out what I say if it's not safe for children. And if they are, I hope they also realize that you don't actually care about those conventions unless it's convenient for you."

"I assure you that's not-"

"Not true?" Anna scoffed, "We both know that the real threat I represent isn't with the language I use but the fact that I used my sexuality to my advantage while I was forced to sell products as stupid as chicken sandwiches and sneakers. Or how I knew I was used as an object of sexual desire for people like yourself."

"Ms. Smith you've-"

"Only just started." Anna addressed the audience now. "I know you're not stupid and neither was I. Neither am I. I know that no one expected anything of me. They only wanted a walking object. A sales mannequin. A living fleshlight they could focus on as they wanked to naked pictures of me while claiming to enjoy the smell of the perfume the ad claimed to want to sell when, really, it only wanted to sell me."

Anna paused and shook her head, "It's a real shame that the greatest accomplishment I can claim in my life is knowing that my twisting this system to my advantage irked people and made them squirm because they could do nothing to stop me. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is worth any of the claims of failed expectations."

"Ms. Smith you shouldn't-"

"In fact," Anna bowled over Sampson's attempts to counter her argument, holding out a finger as if that would stem any attempts at an oncoming tide while also condemning him with the implied accusation. "You had an article, when I first retired, that said I was only ever good at walking, sitting, and laying down in clothes that showed off my body. A statement you followed up with, and forgive me because I forget the exact quote, 'but you'd be willing to let me walk to you, sit on you, and then lay down for you'."

Anna met Sampson's eyes, "All that was before you said that it was a waste for me to try and do anything else because I couldn't possibly have the brains for it and, if I did, I'd realize that I had an expiration date like all women. And then you said I shouldn't waste the time between then and now trying to do anything but smile and look pretty."

"I think you took my quotes out of context and-" Sampson fumbled, "Out of context the quote sounds like I-"

"Like you what, Mr. Sampson?" Anna waited but Sampson had no response. "Like you don't value women, or even seem to like them very much? Is that what they sound like they say because that's what I get from what you wrote about me."

"It's all in-"

"If you say 'good fun' I've more things I could say." Sampson almost bit through his lip rather than response. "Good move."

With a swallow and a deep breath, Anna continued. "All those quotes, by the way, are only made worse when you consider that you whispered, in my ear, at a fashion show where I couldn't find a seat that I was welcome to take one on your face… or your dick, you weren't fussed either way about the semantics of it."

Sampson, fully flustered now, looked almost like a deer caught in headlights as he tried to find salvation in an audience and crew that were riveted by the sight of his demise like a dumpster fire. "I never meant-"

"For me to take the comment seriously?" Anna snorted a derisive laugh. "Did you think I couldn't hear, Mr. Sampson? Or did you think I wouldn't read the rubbish you published about me?"

"I never thought-"

"That I could read?" Anna waited but Sampson only gaped like a fish at her. "Because I can. And so can my parents and any friend I've ever had. And they all read what you wrote about me too."

"I have to admit," Anna stood, "When I sat down for this interview, I had different expectations. Now I'm seeing that I was the idiot for thinking that."

"Ms. Smith, I think you-" Sampson reached out, as if to stop Anna from leaving.

"Should go?" Anna nodded, "You're right. I shouldn't have agreed to this interview in the first place. But, in case anyone watching your program is hoping for something with a bit more meat to it, I'll let you know that if you'd asked a relevant question about my next line, the one inspired by fire, I'd let you know that fire is refining. It's consuming and powerful and brightening. It's a way to cleanse and move forward into the future. Which is exactly what I'm trying to do."

Anna turned on her heel and left the stage, to the confused stares of the audience and crew and the red-faced fumbling of Sampson as he tried to rescue himself and send the show to an unplanned break. John stepped to the side as Anna ignored all the bustle and set about removing the myriad of wires and mics that imprisoned her and handed them to a gobsmacked intern. With a quick smile to the poor girl, Anna turned to John.

"Can we leave now?"

"Right this way." John opened his arm to lead Anna away and touched his ear. "We're on the move. Close ranks and exit please."

They took the exit, John checking that Anna had all of her things, and entered the car. A few minutes later they were away from the studio and on the road. It was not until that point, once they were far enough away from the studio to be sure no one followed the car, that John finally turned to Anna to gauge her reaction.

It was not good.

Her chest rose and fell too fast. Her fingers twisted and clung to one another between the process of dry-washing her hands. And when air proved difficult she interlaced her fingers at the back of her neck and leaned over to put her head between her knees while her body shuddered as it racked itself for breath.

John knocked his knuckles against the divider between the cab and the driver and it lowered. "Pull over somewhere we can have a minute of privacy."

"Sir?"

"Pull over somewhere we can get out and have privacy."

"We're in the middle of town."

"Then find a damn alley."

A few moments later the car pulled over and John opened the door for Anna. She practically bolted out of it, found the nearest wall and vomited. The racking chokes as her body continued to wretch and gag until there was nothing but tears and shakes left for Anna to release.

John exited after her, checked their surroundings, and grabbed two of the water bottles from the back of the car before joining Anna. He waited, just out of range, for her to finish and push herself to a standing position. When she had, John approached with a handkerchief and one of the water bottles. As he held both out to her, Anna took the handkerchief and wiped her mouth before flushing with a few spits of the water bottle.

She offered him a weak smile before swirling and spitting again. "Thank you."

John merely nodded and gathered his breath, "Do you need anything else?"

"You don't happen to have gum do you?" Anna rinsed her mouth a final time and then drank the rest of the water bottle. She traded the crinkling husk for the full bottle in John's hand and then drank half of it before speaking again. "I need something for the taste in my mouth."

"Here." John dug into his pocket and offered one of the sticks, "It's mint."

"I'd take Wild Berry Cherry or whatever other weird flavors they've got these days if it meant my mouth didn't taste like acid." Anna finished the second bottle and immediately set to chewing the gum. "Much better."

"It's the least I can do."

"I don't do either of us the insult of telling you that's not remotely true."

John shrugged, "Then I won't do either of us the disservice of asking if you're alright."

"Don't I look it?"

"Honest answer?"

Anna snorted and shifted away from where she was sick. "Best not to give me that at the moment, all things considered."

"Then I'll keep my thoughts to myself."

"Probably for the best." Anna sighed and leaned against the relatively cleaner wall. Her eyes closed as her jaw worked furiously to coat the taste of the gum over her tongue and erase the acid. After a moment she opened her eyes and sighed, "That was stupid."

"Vomiting?"

"Leaving the interview." Anna shook her head. "Responding like I did. I should've kept my cool but I'd already let Green rile me before the show and then… Then Sampson got my hackles raised and I couldn't back down so…"

"So you snapped back."

Anna nodded, "It wasn't overly dignified. But what other choice did I have? If I hadn't said anything then I… I had to…"

John held up a hand and noted the small sigh of relief Anna seemed to give at the gesture's unconscious motion giving her permission to stop speaking. "You don't have to explain it to me."

"Because you were there?"

"Because I don't think you did anything wrong."

Anna eyed him a moment. "I really don't want to think you're only saying that because you work for me…"

"But?"

"But I've got this niggling feeling you wouldn't say it like that if you didn't."

John shrugged up a shoulder, "Maybe I wouldn't say it like that but I'd say it nonetheless. My position on your detail has no bearing on my personal opinions."

"Then I'll accept that you have that thought."

"Thank you."

"That being said, though,," Anna coughed and made a face, spitting her gum to the side. "I still think you might be full of shit if you really think I didn't royally cock it all up."

"Why?"

"Because women aren't allowed to do that." Anna took a breath, "We're supposed to be graceful and eloquent and elegant and respond to insults by taking the high road or having a stiff upper lip."

She waved her hand at the air, "We're not supposed to react because that makes us emotional and, therefore, easily dismissed. React with any emotion at all, even the male emotion of anger, and you're not to be taken seriously because you're controlled by your hormones or you're on your period."

"I don't think that's what you are."

"Emotional or on my period?"

"Either?" John frowned and then shook his head. "I think the way you reacted is the way dozens, if not hundreds, of women wish they could react when put in similar positions."

"Doesn't give me the right to it."

"Why not?"

"Because why me and not them?" Anna flung her hand out, as if she could encompass the whole world with a motion. "Why do I get to bitch and complain on live television where so many other women don't?"

"Because you had the chance to do so and you took it."

"That doesn't excuse what I did."

"But it might help others have the courage to do the same." John risked a step closer. "Imagine, for the first time, a woman didn't have to take the sexist or rude comments someone plied to them in a public forum. They saw, possibly for the first time, someone say 'no, I won't take that treatment' and walk out instead of having to gracefully grin and bear it while they died inside with each passing moment."

"You make it sound like I started a revolution."

"I wouldn't be so naïve as to think the world shifted off its axis because you were tired of dealing with bullshit."

"Then what do you think I did back there?"

"I think you set an example people might look to for comfort and guidance. People need to know that they can't treat others that way and people also need to know that they don't deserve to be treated that way." John bit at the inside of his cheek a moment. "You didn't deserve what he said to you. You didn't deserve what he wrote about you. And you didn't deserve how people treated you or saw. Or how they treat you and see you now."

"You think that?"

"Of course." John swallowed, "As someone who… Was one who objectified the image of you when I was younger, I'm not above admitting it was wrong."

"And you won't try and argue that you too were a victim of sexual advertising?"

"If I did I'd just be admitting that I'm part of the problem and that I'm also a subject of my hormones controlling me." John shrugged, "I'm not above admitting that I had an image of you when I was younger that wasn't true."

"It's not like we didn't all have fictions of people we fancied when we were younger." Anna sighed, "Mine was Will Smith."

"Not Tom Cruise?"

"Him too." Anna sighed, "And thank you."

"For the water?"

"For what you said just now."

"Because you buy into it?"

"Because even if it's shit and a hundred percent just your imagination," Anna took a breath, "It's nice to hear that someone's in my corner."

"I'd like to be, if you'll let me." John offered Anna his hand. "And at your side if there's a place for me there too."

"As long as you're protecting me, I'll have a place for you." Anna took his hand, "And… And I need to apologize to you."

"For?"

"For how I treated you after what happened in my studio." Anna shook her head. "It was rude and… You didn't deserve that."

"No." John helped Anna back into the car and joined her. "But why don't we take this as a chance to start over. Set a new record here and treat this as Day Zero."

"I'd like that." Anna extended her hand to him. "Anna Sarolia, formerly Smith."

"John Bates." He shook her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same." Anna sat back and released the shake. "I'm not sure what to do now."

"Go back to work?"

"Obviously." Anna teethed at her lip, "But what if that's not enough anymore?"

"I think we've had this discussion before."

"We had a variation on this discussion before." Anna leaned back into her seat. "A discussion that, in all honesty, did open me up to the fire-inspired line I'm releasing."

"I'll take whatever compliment was nestled in that."

Anna offered John a small smile. "It's yours, with my compliments."

"Then I'll treasure it all the more." John paused, chewing the inside of his cheek a moment before speaking. "But, if I may be so bold as to offer another tilt of your access, perhaps you've room for another spurt of ideas."

"Not any that would fit into my upcoming line."

"No one says you have to do these things linearly."

Anna nodded and tapped her half-interlaced fingers against each other a moment before flexing them as she spoke. "That who fiasco did give me a new idea. Or a few ideas that are… They're cluttered and I…" Anna bit her lip and shook her head. "I need to think about this."

"About the new idea?"

"About what to do with a number of scattered thoughts."

John frowned, "How'd you mean?"

"Seeing Green today and the line of Sampson's questions…" Anna chewed the inside of her cheek before speaking again. "They, completely unintentionally, inspired something and I need to act on it before I lose it."

"Act on it how?"

"I need a sketch book." Anna's fingers practically played the air as they flexed and twitched in the space above her lap. "I have to get these down before I lose them."

John dug in his pockets and came up with a pen and a small notebook. "It's not much but it's something."

"It'll do. Thanks." Anna took them and immediately started scribbling.

John waited a minute before speaking. "Do you need anything else?"

"If you could get me back to the studio, that would be fantastic." Anna only took a second to flap the notebook at him. "I need to get this down before I lose it."

John rapped his knuckles on the divider again. "The design studio please."

"Sir?"

"We're heading back to Ms. Smith's studio."

"But there's another interview on the schedule and we're already-"

"Very late for it, I know." John shrugged at the half-look Anna spared him between sketches. "I'll cancel it."

"Are you sure sir?"

John smiled at where Anna, completely oblivious to him now, scribbled madly on the pad and turned pages so fast she almost tore them. "I'm sure that Ms. Smith needs to work and she needs to get back to the studio now."