From Rags

CHAPTER TWO

A week later Jaxxon found herself standing outside Westwood Studios shaking her head and wondering what the bloody hell she was doing there. Her a model? Compelling character? Entrancing eyes? What a load of old shit. That Richie bloke had to be some sort of fruitcake if he really believed all that. She was just a person the same as everybody else. She didn’t see anything special when she looked in the mirror. For the life of her she couldn’t figure how being a bitch would land her a job. Particularly a modelling job.

Even if Jaxxon had thought ‘big’ in terms of her future, modelling would never have held any appeal for her. Nor would fame. Fortune might be nice. Or at least enough for her to move out of that shithole that Don had the nerve to call a flat and to escape the crap situation that she was currently in. But modelling…She couldn’t see how she could pull it off.

So then why was she stood there?

Two simple reasons: Firstly, curiosity. Wouldn’t it be nice to just go in there and have a peak into that world? Secondly, she had never been one to miss an opportunity, even if the outcome wasn’t likely to be in her favour. Jaxxon was pretty certain that when she got in there and dazzled Richie’s friend with her lack-of-charm she would be thrown out without so much as a pat on the head. But the fact was that she needed to get out of that mangy flat so why not go for it?

Had Leah ever been to a studio like this?

No, she wouldn’t think about Leah. Just like Leah didn’t think about her; she couldn’t possibly think about her considering that Jaxxon hadn’t seen or heard from her since that day Leah left her at the foster home alone. Shrug. Sometimes people who you loved just didn’t love you back, even if they were supposed to. Thinking about it or dwelling on it only wasted minutes out of your life. What was the sense in doing that?

With a clear mind and a loud sigh, Jaxxon allowed her curious side free-reign, and was soon stood in a stylish, bright reception area facing an extremely pretty redhead. Jaxxon would have shot her a brief smile if she wasn’t staring at her as though she had walked in with dog shit on her shoes. It seemed that the redhead didn’t approve of Jaxxon’s casual look; a simple black t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans. It was a proper Ugly Betty scenario.

“Whoa, tone down your cheeriness,” said Jaxxon with heavy sarcasm. The redhead forced a smile, though it seemed to kill her.

“Good morning and welcome to -”

“Yeah, thanks, I’m supposed to be meeting Richie Moore at nine.” Which was ten minutes from now. With a twist of her over-glossed lips, the redhead consulted the fancy computer which Jaxxon knew cost more than triple her own yearly expenditure, including food, rent and clothing.

“Mr Moore and Mr Miller,” muttered the redhead to the computer.

Jaxxon thought she sounded a mixture of impressed and bitter. Mr Miller had to be the friend Richie talked about. Hang on a sec…Miller? Miller as in Ollie Miller, the make-up artist on all the commercials for Storm Cosmetics? Bloody hell. Jaxxon wasn’t big on make-up and only really bothered with mascara but even she knew who he was. Not that she’d ever been able to afford any Storm stuff so she couldn’t say whether they were any good or not, but God they were international best-selling products. She hadn’t realised Ollie Miller ran the company. Well this might turn out to be an interesting morning.

“Jaxxon Carter, I presume?” said the redhead. “If you take a seat, someone will be down shortly to escort you to see Mr Moore and Mr Miller.”

Jaxxon nodded and slouched into one of the seats, which was really comfy she noticed. She also noticed that apparently her attire wasn’t appreciated by the girls seated around her either – particularly the one beside her who was wearing something that may as well have been a flannel. They all looked at Jaxxon as though she was a failed science experiment or something, though they were quick to look away if Jaxxon even half scowled at them. Inside, she was smiling. If her casual appearance made them feel uncomfortable then they had to lead very sad lives.

It was something like five minutes later when she heard her name being called by a familiar voice. Lifting her head, she saw Richie heading towards her grinning. She could only guess from the whispers and looks of shock on the other girls’ faces that it wasn’t commonplace for him to come and personally greet whoever he had an appointment with.

There was an incredible amount of awe and devotion on the face of the girl seated beside her but Richie didn’t spare her a glance, just as he hadn’t the others. Jaxxon murmured to her, “You should have worn your jeans.” Then she rose and made her way to Richie. “Hi.”

“Very nice to see you again, Jaxxon.” When she simply nodded rather than return the sentiment, he grinned. “I like that you don’t tell people what you think they want to hear. It’s very refreshing. Now, let me introduce you to my newest business partner, Oliver Miller.”

After a short elevator ride and a series of lefts and rights that made Jaxxon feel as though she was in a labyrinth, they finally reached a small, modern office. Ollie looked up from the computer as they entered. Up close he resembled Bob Hoskins. Used to Richie’s gentle, eloquent voice, it was slightly surprising to hear Ollie’s rough and deep cockney accent.

“Alright, luv, you must be Jaxxon.”

Unlike Richie who was all suited-up, Ollie was dressed in a pair of jeans and a thin jumper. Oh yes, she and him would get along just fine. “Yep.”

“Odd name,” he mused, “but I like it. Unique. Memorable. If someone was to refer to ‘the model, Jaxxon’, there wouldn’t be much mistaking who they were talking about.”

Richie and Jaxxon both took a seat opposite Ollie as he leant forward in his chair, fiddling with his pen. A lot of girls had walked through that door but none had done so without looking a bag of nerves. The one in front of him was as cool as a cucumber; someone who had nothing to lose. For her not to be twitchy and jittery at the thought of what she could gain she had obviously entered that door believing the answer was a resounding no. “So,” he finally said, “you want to be a model.”

“No,” she replied honestly. “What I want is a better job and better life than what I’ve already got so I can get out of where I’m living before I end up bashing my landlord’s head against the toilet that he denies needs fixing. Richie just happens to have come along at the right time. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if I’m not all that keen on the horse.”

Ollie smiled approvingly at her before looking at Richie. “You were right, she’s very different.”

“I’ll give you the same warning I gave Richie Rich,” said Jaxxon. “I’m not easy to have around, you’ll never find me full of the joys of spring, and I don’t mince my words.”

Ollie’s smile widened. “Then I think you’ll find that you and I have a lot in common. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Older than I usually like, but not too old. Especially since you look around eighteen anyway and our range is aimed at young women. Ever done any modelling work before?”

Jaxxon shook her head. “In fact, I don’t really like cameras much.”

He laughed silently as he made his way around the table to stand in front of her. Just as he raised his hand to touch her face, Jaxxon reflexively raised her own to block his move.

“Jaxxon has a slight aversion to touch, especially when it comes to strangers,” explained Richie quickly.

Ollie supposed by the kind of background that she had that she hadn’t known much gentleness in her life and perhaps had also encountered much roughness. It would make any touch seem too intimate. Dropping his hand, he said, “Could you please slowly move your head from side to side for me. That’s it. Like that.”

Studying her face very closely, he was pleased to see that it was almost completely symmetrical. Not too long, not too round. Full, sensual lips. Well-proportioned nose. Perfect lashes and brows. No blemishes, moles or spots. Her skin was practically flawless and her bone structure made her a photographer’s dream. It was a wonder no one had snapped her up before now.

“Lovely. Now, what we’d like is to take you down to one of the studios for a few test shots. Richie told me that he explained to you that he and I have joined on a project together and are bringing out a whole new range of cosmetics. We intend to call the range Allure. If today goes well, it may be that your face will be what sells those products.”

Jaxxon couldn’t imagine her face inspiring anyone to buy anything, but let these poor sods figure that out for themselves after the test shots.

“So let’s get you down to make-up and then after that you’ll be brought to one of the studios where we’ll be waiting.”

It sounded so much like an order that she could only reply, “Copy that.”

After an hour of being handled by make-up artists, hairstylists and wardrobe assistants Jaxxon was ushered over to a mirror. She had expected to look extremely different, to not look at all like herself, but that wasn’t the effect at all. She was still in jeans and a t-shirt, although both were skin-tight and the t-shirt showed off her cleavage. Her curls had been smoothed with some kind of serum which didn’t take the wildness away but hid the split ends and made it look as though it had been polished. Her face had been treated with a minimum amount of make-up apart from her eyes which had been mascaraed to death and her lips which had been heavily coated with a rich cherry gloss.

The studio she was then escorted to was not anything like she had pictured. It was massive and almost perfectly square. Everything in it was either black or white. The walls, floor, seats and even the small, simple kitchenette were white. The ceiling, cameras, lighting equipment, laptop, shelves and the mirror frames were all black. Weird, but not in a bad way.

Standing near the kitchenette was Richie, Ollie, a tall, shaggy-haired bloke and an equally shaggy-haired teenager. All turned and appraised her from head to toe and toe to head. “What?” she snapped, uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

“Perfect,” said Ollie. “It’s you, but with everything enhanced.” Seeing the surprise on her face he added, “I don’t want to turn you into someone else, Jaxxon. I want your identity just as much as I want your appearance to represent the new range. Now, meet Tony. You’ve probably worked out that he’s a photographer going by the fact that he’s holding a camera. He also has massive shares in Storm Cosmetics so he’s who I use. The young lad behind him is his son, Ant. He’s sort of like his apprentice.”

“Very intense,” commented Tony as he once again appraised her.

She was getting a little sick of being called that. “Can we get this over with? I’ve been pampered and groomed like a bloody poodle so I’m not in the best of moods.”

Richie smiled in amusement. “If you’re already frustrated this should make things go quite quickly and smoothly.”

As directed by Tony the pushy photographer – who she was pretty certain was instructed to purposely irritate her – Jaxxon stood on a small platform with her back straight, one shoulder slightly down, neck arched, head tilted to one side, lips parted, and glaring into the camera. He was talking at her, not to her, and it was cheesing her off. His barking earned him a lot of expletives from her, which seemed to amuse them all no end.

“Well as I live and breathe,” drawled Tony as the three blokes and the teenager examined the test shots. “Would you look at those eyes. The heat in them. It’s like the look of primal lust you see shooting out the eyes of like a jungle cat or something.”

Richie pointed at him, smiling. “Exactly. I couldn’t think of any words to describe it.”

“I’ve truly never seen anything like it.”

Ollie was shaking his head in disbelief. “The look shoots through you like a spear, doesn’t it.”

Tony nodded. “What’s amazing is that it’s all eyes. Her face is completely expressionless. She’s not scowling or snarling or even frowning, it’s all coming from the eyes.”

Jaxxon was getting rather sick of being spoken about like she wasn’t there. “Well?” she demanded, hands on hips. “Can I get down from this sodding platform now or what?”

“Congratulations,” said Ollie in a smooth voice as he shot her a wide, excited smile. “You are now the face of Allure Cosmetics.”

Two Months Later

At forty years of age and after twenty-four years in the cosmetics industry, Ollie was no stranger to campaign launches…but this was like no other. Oh everything was normal in terms of schedule: there had been no delays and the reporters were waiting patiently in the elegantly prepared convention room of the five-star-plus hotel for the speakers to introduce the face of Allure. Everything was normal in terms of the preparations; the presentation platform was all set up, the impeccably packaged Allure products were on display in a neat yet arty arrangement, everyone was where they were supposed to be, and everything was ready for the Launch Party that was due to start shortly in the ballroom of the hotel. But what he saw when he walked into the upstairs suite where Jaxxon was being ‘groomed’, as she called it, knocked him for six.

Usually he would have to make an entrance with a booming voice to attract the attention of all the people nervously fussing and busy-bodying around while obsessing over every little detail of the model – hair, make-up, clothes, posture – but in this suite was total silence. Not only that, but there weren’t make-up products lying here there and everywhere. Not one soul in the room was standing. His instinct was to seize up; something had to have gone wrong. But it wasn’t a mortified or nervous silence.

His eyes were drawn immediately to the stunning young woman perched on the arm of a bulky chair. She was dressed in the stylishly casual D & G outfit that was designed especially and exclusively for her: a pair of sea-blue, skin-tight jeans that were a kind of velvety denim, and a light-lemon V-neck top that casually drooped at one shoulder. They hadn’t wanted her in an extravagant dress; that just didn’t suit her character – which was just as well because she was refusing to ‘look like an ornament’ anyway. As casual as her outfit was designed to be, it was still chic and cutting-edge and it highlighted each of her sinful curves. That along with the subtle yet eye-catching use of Allure products on her face and Jaxxon looked as glamorous as all hell.

“You alright?” Jaxxon asked Ollie, who seemed a little odd at the minute.

“Just wondering why there’s a deathly silence in here.”

“I haven’t threatened them with the loss of important body parts if that’s what you’re wondering. They’re fine, watch.” Then she smiled as she sang the nursery rhyme words, “If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.”

There was then laughter and clapping. Ollie could only shake his head and chuckle.

“She told us to put everything away,” said Louisa as she gazed at Jaxxon fondly.

Ollie found that he hadn’t been able to look at Louisa very long without laughing since Jaxxon had pointed out that she had a Morticia Addams vibe about her. Jaxxon hadn’t been poking fun or making an insult, it was purely an observation. Louisa even agreed with her. Oh Ollie did love her bluntness.

“Yes because there was a bloody self-correction epidemic going on,” said Jaxxon. “They were all done with the grooming ages ago but kept constantly coming back fixing what didn’t need to be fixed and seeing mistakes that weren’t even there. Then Louisa nearly had a panic attack when she discovered that I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said that no matter what brush or gel or spray she used these curls of mine always did their own thing.”

“That’s what I like about them. They’re wild like you and those eyes of yours.”

Just then Richie appeared behind Ollie and experienced the same confusion and panic. “Is something wrong?”

“Jaxxon insisted we pack up our stuff and just sit and relax,” said Kieran, the chief make-up artist. “We’ve been talking about that new soap on telly about Scousers. Did you watch the first episode last week?”

Richie stared at the young woman in awe. Dear God, he and Ollie in all their years had never mastered the art of calming the team. She had won people over so effortlessly, even the rather antisocial wardrobe assistant. “Who sent the flowers?”

“Oh they’re from Tony and his wife,” she said. On the day that Ollie and Richie had chosen her as the face of Allure, Tony had insisted on giving her a lift home after the photo-shoot – then he had seen the block of flats she lived in and turned right back around, refusing to let her go back there. After much disputing Tony apologised for his daddy approach and, in a much gentler tone, offered for her to rent – because she refused to stay there for free – the annexe of his house. Only when he agreed for her to bring Bronty was the deal sealed. Both he and his wife were trying to discourage her from getting an apartment and to stay in their annexe but Jaxxon had been looking forward to having something that was hers. Plus, as much as she adored Lily and Tony, they tried to baby her through the process of going from one lifestyle to another. The gentle approach wasn’t Jaxxon’s way. She wanted to face all the sudden changes head-on and find her own two feet.

“Now remember, Jaxxon,” said Ollie in a serious tone, “because your name was leaked to the tabloids they’ll have done some digging and will know a bit about you and there’s a good chance they’ll shoot some questions at you that you might find uncomfortable.”

“You mean about my past. Personal stuff.”

He nodded. “If there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable answering just signal to me by tucking your curls behind your ear and I’ll tackle the question for you.”

Richie shot her a reassuring look. “I’m sure you’ll be fine but I know this is all new to you so if at any time you feel overwhelmed just signal to me by joining your hands behind your back.”

“Jesus, you’re making this sound like a covert operation,” said Jaxxon, which received plenty of chuckles. “I take it you’re here to take me down now.” She would never have admitted it, but she was so nervous she was close to shaking.

“Indeed we are,” confirmed Richie, ushering her out of the room. He waited while everyone from the team wished her good luck and told her how amazing she looked, something he very much agreed with. Something that he was sure the entire world would agree with.

Once they reached the convention room, Ollie – as Chairman of the cosmetics house – and Richie – as vice president of it – took their places on the presentation podium, keeping Jaxxon hidden behind the curtains at the rear of it. The two men each made a speech about the innovative and stylish Allure products themselves and revealed that the release date was exactly three weeks from this day. Then, after indicating the free samples around the reporters, Ollie introduced ‘the face of Allure’.

He watched as Jaxxon – in that natural catlike grace that she had – came to join them at the front of the podium. She was as breath-taking and mesmerising as always and received a massive, welcoming applause. She didn’t smile and pose for the flashing cameras, just as he knew she wouldn’t. But she wasn’t distancing herself from these reporters, it wasn’t an act of ignorance. She somehow managed to make eye contact with each person in the room, as if she was acknowledging them. Didn’t everyone enjoy the idea of being acknowledged by a woman so entrancing and captivating? More amazingly, all this was done on a subconscious level on her part. She clearly had no idea of the kind of effect she had on others around her.

It wasn’t long before questions were being shot at her from all angles. The first few were benign and related to the campaign and her contract and what was happening next and the designer of her outfit. Then, of course, the subject of her past was brought up. First it was relatively simple questions such as where she grew up, but then a particular question made Ollie tense even though he had been expecting it.

“Is it true, Jaxxon, that you spent the majority of your childhood in foster care?” one reporter asked.

“Yes,” Jaxxon answered simply and clearly. There was no shame or discomfort in her tone, and she noticed that that seemed to have surprised people. Why should she be embarrassed?

“And is it true that your mother committed suicide?” the same reported asked.

“Yes,” she said just as clearly and, still, with no shame or embarrassment.

Then a question was fired at Richie from a different reporter: “The rumour, Mr Moore, is that you discovered Jaxxon when she was working in a run-down pub.”

Richie smiled. “It’s always a surprise when a rumour is true. In this case, yes.”

After another series of questions at Richie a new male reporter: “Did it not concern you that her poor upbringing might make it extremely difficult for her to deal with a lifestyle that is at the other end of the spectrum? That perhaps she might find the pressures hard to bear?”

“You know, I really don’t like it when people talk like I’m not there,” said Jaxxon with a sigh. “Here’s something for you all to jot down on your little pads: a crap upbringing doesn’t make someone weak, it makes them strong or how else could they get through it? I’ve never liked that people seem to think that anyone who’s been brought up in care are destined to lead a life of poverty and crime. It’s postcode lottery.”

“I hope this shows those prejudiced people and those who are brought up in care that it doesn’t always have to work that way,” said Richie.

“That they can find themselves a fairy Godmother” – the reporter gestured at Richie, smiling – “and have a happy ending.”

“Oh no,” Jaxxon quickly objected as she heard the reference to Cinderella. “If you were hoping to find that despite my background I’m some kind of lovely young lady who birds tweet at, prepare to be disappointed. I’m a moody cow and I know it. This isn’t a Cinderella story, this is more like Harry Potter and the Gob of Ire.”

Ollie had to admire her straightforwardness; and it seemed like everyone else did as well. They chuckled and smiled and were totally taken in by her and how refreshing she was. More questions were fired at her but she handled them all with the same ease and bluntness as the others. Oh he could see she was still frustrated. The trouble was that her frustration only seemed to please the reporters, bringing that feral gleam to her eyes. He was truly proud of her and also relieved to see that she might just be able to handle how being the face of Allure was about to catapult her to the peak of success.

He hadn’t mentioned to Jaxxon that he was a little concerned about how some might treat her at the Launch Party. There were some guests he knew of who would enjoy flinging a few degrading insults at her, things aimed to eat at her confidence or belittle her or test her responses; jealousy and prejudice, of course, being the main motives. He couldn’t visualise her crumbling, but he had to remind himself that this young woman came from nothing and was about to enter a world where people competed over who had the biggest yacht or wore pearls and sapphires. He wondered if Jaxxon had any real concept of how famous this was all going to make her. As from tomorrow, her life was going to be dramatically different.

“One last question,” a reporter quickly shouted as the presentation ended.

Jaxxon groaned internally. This was something like the sixth time someone had launched a ‘last question’ while they were trying to leave and she was getting cheesed off now.

“We’ve noticed that haircare products are included in the beauty range, which isn’t usual. Any comments on that?”

“Yeah,” answered Jaxxon snappily. “Lather, rinse, repeat.”