Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

1. Willow

Chapter 1

Willow

“ Frigid Nepo Princess . Seriously? That’s the best headline they could come up with?”

I set my phone on the marble countertop of my family’s New York penthouse. I had just returned from a whirlwind trip to Paris to shoot the cover of Elle , dragging my best friend and fellow model, Heena Badahl, with me.

“Hey, at least they’re calling you a princess.” My sister Aspen shrugs before wrapping me in a hug. “Nice to have you home, Will. And you too, Heena.”

She gives Heena a tight hug, too. Heena doesn’t have a great relationship with her family, so she’s an honorary member of ours.

“ Scorned by the Starlet: Frigid Nepo Princess Willow Jordan Rolls Eyes at Young Fan ,” my other sister Maple reads the full headline as my parents engulf me in hugs of their own. “Yikes, Willow. What did you do?”

People like to poke fun at the fact that my parents named us Willow, Aspen, and Maple. But really, as far as Hollywood names go, my parents kept things pretty tame. Our names never bothered me—although as the first-born, I was given the most normal one. Maple might feel differently.

“I didn’t do anything,” I defend. “The fan in question was some Elle employee’s daughter who shouldn’t have even been allowed into the models’ dressing room to begin with. I mean, she interrupted my entire glam team—they all had to stop their work and back up—so that she could get a photo with me. Not to mention the security and privacy concerns. I wasn’t rolling my eyes at the fan. I was rolling my eyes at whoever let her into the dressing rooms in the first place. Those are, understandably, high-security areas.”

“I agree wholeheartedly.” My mom nods. “But, unfortunately, being captured on your worst days and having moments taken out of context are just a part of living in the limelight. I remember all the accusations they used to hurl at me. Uninventive stuff really, like ‘trailer park trash,’ ‘white trash,’ or ‘gold digger.’ Once they find someone new to bully, they’ll leave you alone.”

“But it’s been six years since I first started modeling, and they haven’t gotten tired of hating on me yet. And really, I’ve been in the spotlight since the day I was born,” I add, motioning to my famous parents.

My father, Robert Jordan, was born famous. Both his mother and grandmother were well-known actresses, and his dad was the heir to a large real estate fortune. My mother, on the other hand, Isabelle Michalski—AKA Izzy Michaels—Jordan, was born to a single mother in Indiana before being scouted at sixteen while working at a fast food restaurant. She quickly rose to fame as a model before meeting my father, who had already made a name for himself as a talented young director. He inspired her to switch paths and become an actress, which in turn classed up her image.

“I just don’t understand why they keep dragging me through the mud, persisting with this mean girl reputation they’ve given me. I’m not mean, am I?” I continue, asking my family earnestly.

I know I shouldn’t believe what the media says about me, but it’s hard to ignore insult after insult. At some point, they start to stick.

“Don’t even ask that. You’re not mean, sweetie. Far from it,” my mom assures me, moving behind me to gently rub my shoulders. “Don’t listen to a word they say. They’re just trying to make a headline.”

“Anyone who knows you will know that what they’re reporting is the furthest thing from the truth, Willy,” my dad adds. “You’re one of the nicest girls on Earth.”

“Why does Aspen get the good girl reputation?” I turn my head to look at my sister. “How did you do that?”

Aspen shrugs. “Honestly, I think it’s because I play an innocent, good-girl type on Fairview Ridge . People think I am my character.”

Around the same time that I started modeling, Aspen began acting. She’s almost as well-known as I am, having played the lead role in the most popular teen drama of the decade for the past six years. The show is gearing up to start filming its final season, which has given Aspen a mid-life crisis at twenty.

Since we stepped out from behind our parents’ shadows and into the limelight, Aspen and I have become known as a sort of dynamic duo, especially since we attended most events together for the first few years of our careers. Even now, it’s incredibly common to hear our names in the same sentence. It doesn’t hurt that we look similar enough to be twins (both the spitting image of our mother) despite Aspen being two years younger .

“Maybe prancing around in lingerie while scowling makes people think you’re a bitch, Willow,” Maple offers.

“Maple!” my dad gasps, shocked, as always, by his youngest daughter’s frankness.

Maple is sixteen, and my parents often call her ‘the greatest surprise of their lives.’ But age isn’t the only thing that differentiates Maple from Aspen and me—she’s decided to stay out of the spotlight, and instead tries to live as normal of a life as possible.

“It’s the truth.” She shrugs. “I’m just trying to find a constructive answer.”

“Well, if that’s the case, why don’t other models have that reputation, too?” I challenge.

“Most of them do, to be fair,” Heena says. “Me, Polina, Lottie, Anja, Seraphine, Vivi–”

“I think we get it,” Aspen interrupts her, trying to spare my feelings.

“But none of them have it as bad as I do. You have to admit, it seems like I’m being dragged through the mud every day for something,” I complain. “And you guys get to be mean girls in the cool way, while I’m a mean girl in the rude bitch way.”

“You’re the most famous model in the world. Naturally, you would get the brunt of the hate,” Heena offers.

“Maybe that explains it. But it sucks either way.”

“It does,” my mom sympathizes. “I know you’re tired, honey. It’s been such a long day for you. What time did you leave Paris? Five?”

“Four.”

“You should get some sleep,” she prescribes. “I guarantee by the time you wake up, the tabloids will have found someone else to torment.”

I sigh. “I hope so. ”

“And besides that, you need your energy for New Year’s Eve tomorrow,” my dad points out.

The Jordan Family has cemented itself as a staple of Time Square's New Year’s Eve celebration. For the past twenty-five years, my parents have introduced an act together, and six years ago, Aspen and I began introducing an act together, too. Maple wants no part of any of it, but she still comes along and sits in our VIP tent every year.

Making it back to New York in time for New Year’s Eve was the main reason why my Paris trip was condensed into only two days. I’m so messed up from all the traveling I’ve been doing lately, between modeling and the holidays, that I don’t even know what time zone I’m operating in anymore. I just hope whichever time zone it is, it allows me to stay energized all night tomorrow.