In a way, I almost felt sorry for her. Then I looked at her fake smile...and I didn’t.
Nick didn’t want to do it. I had effectively guilt-tripped him into it. Jobs were depending on it. His father had forced his hand.
This girl?
She’d step on anyone and everyone she could just to claw her way to the top.
“Congratulations,” I said politely.
There was no reason to be openly mean. In fact, in the long run, I was actually doing dear Ella the biggest favor of her entire career. Bestowing her a gift that was entirely undeserved.
“So...Ford Models, what then?”
It was a standard question. She gave me a standard answer back.
“Well, modeling is how I’m hoping to get my start, but acting is my one true love. I’d love to branch out into feature films as soon as possible. From there, the sky is the limit. Maybe I’ll transition into music? Start my own clothing line?”
Yeah, because I’m sure you have the talent for all that.
My eyes narrowed slightly, but I kept that fixed smile plastered on my face.
Don’t judge it now, Abby. She’s absolutely perfect!
I shut the folder with a smile, and slid it across the desk.
“Let me tell you a little about Nick...”
Chapter 14
Two hours later, I was convinced I’d found my girl. Everything from the snake-like eyes, to the heavily made-up face, to the cheap blonde dye job. It was perfect.
She was striking, don’t get me wrong. But striking, not beautiful. The kind of girl that you’d fantasize about once or twice in college, feel dirty for it, then find someone else instead.
Nick had dated striking, don’t get me wrong. At one point, I’d gotten a panicked call in the middle of the night saying he was in Vegas—about to elope with a porn
star.
But striking wasn’t his type.
Nick liked the finer things in life. Nick liked beautiful.
We drove into the city together, scheduled to meet Nick at his favorite place. She texted him on the way and asked to change locations.
He liked spontaneity—I’d said. (Just not exactly like that.)
Instead, she’d asked if he’d meet her at a Japanese restaurant.
He loved seafood—I’d said. (Just not at the moment. Not since the lobster.)
Nick agreed, as I knew he would. He was a gentleman, after all. And just twenty minutes later, our cab was pulling up against the curb.
Ella fussed and primped and applied so many coats of lip gloss, I bet she’d added a good half an inch to her face. When she was finally finished, she turned to me for support.
“What do you think?”
That same devilish smile started creeping back up my face, but I forced it down—pursing my lips with a professional assessment.
“I think...it’s going to be a day to remember.”