Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

17. Willow

Chapter 17

Willow

T he next day, Heena and I surprisingly both finish our last shows in the late afternoon, meaning we have the entire evening to spend as we please in Paris before we go back home in a few days. We find ourselves sitting side-by-side at an outdoor cafe, looking out onto the bustling street in front of us.

Since even supermodels are rarely allowed to keep the clothes we model, we’ve changed into our own outfits. I’m wearing a black pleather trench coat with knee-high black boots, a black minidress, and a white scarf and beret…because when in Paris, right? Heena is wearing wide-leg grey trousers with a matching vest and blazer. Neither of us are bothering to disguise ourselves tonight—because we have a collective six bodyguards here with us, including Tito and my recently promoted permanent guard, Justin—which is garnering a lot of attention from passersby.

“Hello,” our wide-eyed waiter says as he approaches our table, obscuring our view of the street. “What can I get for you two ladies?”

“ Nous prendrons deux martinis expresso, s'il vous pla?t ,” I say, dusting off my Fre nch skills, thanks to my childhood French au pair. The waiter’s eyes somehow widen more .

“And some truffle fries,” Heena adds. I see she’s taking advantage of being away from her nutritionist.

“Coming right up,” the man says through his thick accent.

“Merci.” Heena winks. The man nods quickly before walking away, fisting his trembling hands.

“That’s pathetic,” Heena says to me with a laugh, as the man passes over the threshold and disappears into the cafe.

“Heena, don’t be mean,” I scold. “He was probably so nervous already. You didn’t have to wink.”

“It’s not my problem he’s nervous. Why should he be? We’re just people,” she scoffs. “It’s not my fault he can’t handle a wink.”

“Do me a favor and look in the mirror. Then tell me that again.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. Last time I looked in the mirror, I was stuck, entranced there for a full day.”

“It must be hard, being so jaw-droppingly beautiful.”

Heena nudges me with her shoulder. “You would know.”

“So, you’re coming with us to Kiawah next week, right?” I ask, changing the subject.

“I wish I could.” She groans. “But I already committed to a Versace fragrance shoot in New York next week.”

“That can’t last more than a day. You could come with us for a day or two.”

“Yeah, but that’s a lot of traveling. To be honest, I’m already burnt out from fashion week. I think I’ll just hold down the Jordan fort in the city, if that’s okay with everyone.”

“You don’t even have to ask. I’m just sad you can’t come with us.”

“You don’t need me. You’ll have your sisters to keep you company,” she says as the waiter returns, delivering our martinis and fries while impressively avoiding eye contact with us.

“Excuse me?” Heena asks the retreating waiter with a predator’s grin.

“Yes?” the man asks.

“Could we get some ketchup?” she asks, blatantly looking the waiter up and down.

“Sure,” he says shakily before practically running away.

“Heena,” I scold.

“Let me have my fun,” she waves me off.

“It’s not very funny to him. The poor guy looked like he was about to piss his pants.”

Heena laughs. “Now that would have been a sight.”

“And anyway, French people hate ketchup. You know that.”

She shrugs. “But I don’t hate ketchup.”

“You’re horrible.” I laugh, taking a sip of my martini. “Holy shit, these are better than the ones we had in Milan.” I take another sip.

“Really?” Heena takes a sip of hers. “God, you’re right, these are incredible. I’ll have to tell Vittoria. She’ll have a stroke.”

“You just live to piss people off.”

“That’s why you love me,” she croons in a tone that would bring a man to his knees. “So, you’re coming back to New York after Kiawah, right? I have prime tickets to the opera.”

I pause, knowing she won’t like that I’m going to see Riley.

“Come on, they’re doing Carmen , your favorite,” she prods.

“Actually, I’m going to visit Riley in North Carolina after Kiawah.”

“What? Riley? The country singer?”

Our waiter delivers the ketchup quietly, without being tormented by Heena, for once. She has bigger bait now.

“Yeah. He told me that no one would recognize me, and he’d take me to do a bunch of normal people stuff. You know, like dive bars.”

“You want to go to dive bars ?”

“Why not? I think it’ll be fun. It’ll be nice to have a break from the public eye for a few days.”

“Okay.” Heena shrugs. “I can understand that. But just…be careful. You know, with whatever this situation is.”

“It’s strictly platonic,” I clarify.

“I know. Just stay on guard. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Riley’s a nice guy.”

“I believe you, but I also have zero trust in men.” She eats a fry before adding, “I want to meet this guy. Not that he needs my approval, but I still want to vet him.”

“Oh God, I don’t think I’d ever subject him to an interview with you .”

“What does that mean? I’d play nice,” she says, even though she’s laughing deviously.

“I don’t think you can play nice, Heena.”

“Probably true. But if he can handle the heat, he’d probably get my approval.”

We each sip on our martinis, falling into a comfortable silence while the sun slowly sets over Paris.

“To answer what you said before…about no man of mine needing your approval,” I start.

“Mhm,” Heena hums, looking at me.

“Of course they would need your approval. You’re my best friend. If the man I’m dating isn’t approved by you, they’re gone.”

“Hey, if they impress you, they’d impress me.” Heena shrugs. “I’m not as tough to win over as people think. If only they’d stop being paralyzed by fear.”

“Most people are different from you, Heena. They don’t have your innate self-confidence. ”

“Well, I don’t see why not. Everyone should be their own champion. If you don’t take pride in yourself, who will?”

“Sometimes it's easier said than done.”

“Willow, you take plenty of pride in yourself. You’ve never met someone you were afraid to walk up to and strike up a conversation with.”

“I guess that’s true,” I muse. “I think it manifests in different ways with me.”

“Like feeling insecure because the press shits on you every chance they get? That would affect most people, Will. Not that anything they say about you is true.”

“Like that I’m a spoiled, talentless, nepo baby?”

“Okay, except the nepo baby thing,” she teases. “But I’ve told you, you have so much talent and charisma that you would’ve made it big whether you were a nepo baby or not. It’s just their favorite insult to hurl because this isn’t that alternate universe where you weren’t born famous, so there’s no way to prove that you could have made it on your own. But look at some of the other nepo babies in the industry—none of them are consistently opening and closing for the biggest designers in the industry. Designers want you . Not your name.”

“That was inspiring,” I say, rendered a little speechless.

“You know I’m always here to give you a pep talk. Let my excessive arrogance actually do something for someone else for once. And besides, speaking of my excessive arrogance, would I, Heena Badahl, be best friends with a spoiled, talentless, pathetic excuse for a model?”

That cheers me up. “No. Only the best for Heena.”

“Exactly. Remind yourself of that,” she says, tipping her glass at me.