A year with you.

Rhett

MEANWHILE, RHETT¶¶……..

3 months ago

As the sun set over the Los Angeles skyline, i walked towards the warehouse venue of a model casting. My crisp white shirt and tailored pants seemed out of place among the eclectic mix of models and fashionistas milling about outside.

Deciding to take a detour, i approached the back door, where the scent of chocolate perfume and cannabis wafted through the air, enticing me to linger. I stood there for a moment, trying to make out the figure smoking in the dark corner, but the shadows obscured their features.

Shrugging, i pushed open the door and slipped inside, my eyes scanning the room for my nephew, a model participating in the casting. I spotted him chatting with a stylist and made my way over.

I was in the middle of a conversation with my nephew, when my gaze drifted to the stunning woman who had just walked in. She stood at around 5'7" or 5'8", with a lithe, curvaceous figure that seemed to ripple beneath her fitted, knee-length dress. Her Afro, a vibrant, curly mass of brown hair, framed her heart-shaped face, accentuating her full lips and radiant caramel skin. Immediately she walked into the room, i swear i caught a whiff of chocolate and weed in the air.

Her outfit, a bold, geometric print dress with a plunging neckline, showcased her toned arms and shoulders, while her confident stride and sassy attitude seemed to command the attention of everyone in the room.

As she climbed onto the stage, I followed her every move, drinking in the curves of her body, the sway of her hips, and the sparkle in her eyes, her delicate fingers as she makes hand gestures while addressing everyone in the room, how her smile reaches her eyes. Every little detail I paid absolute attention to.

I was captivated, unable to look away, and fighting the urge to approach her, my experiences leaving me wary of rejection. With a quiet determination, i tore my eyes away, forcing myself to focus on another thing. I think she caught me staring. I close my eyes and try to think of other things, but my gaze lingers to her lips, her full lips, her smile as she thanks everyone for their participation and support. Her voice is music to my ears, it's soft but stern, it's commanding yet warm....I want to be the center of her attention, i want to see her smile up close, hear her hearty laughter....I'm already imagining what it'll sound like. Yeah, I need to leave before i do something stupid.

As soon as we leave the warehouse, i still can't shake the image of the mysterious woman from my mind.

As our sleek, black sedan navigated the LA traffic, my eyes fixed on my nephew, Julian, who was busy typing away on his phone; i turned to my nephew, and began asking questions, trying to sound casual.

"So, Jules, how was the casting?" I ask, my deep voice low and smooth, feigning nonchalance.

Julian launched into a detailed account of the casting, raving about the other models and the stylists. I listened intently, my mind wandering until he mentioned the fashion designer.

"And Debra, man... she's a genius," Julian said, his eyes wide with admiration. "She's got this incredible attention to detail, you know? She’s real nice and friendly. She was going around, adjusting every tiny thing, and making sure everything was perfect."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Debra, huh? What's she like?"

Julian thought for a moment. "She's intense, uncle. Really focused, but in a good way, she's got this vision, you know……."

No, no, I don’t actually, tell me…..’’ I love messing with Jules.

He smiles and rolls his eyes, ‘’it’s like she really loves what she’s doing, and she’s not going to let anything get in the way of it. I tell you, uncle, you can see it in her eyes.’’

I gasp, ‘’you looked into her eyes? Jules, that’s a weird thing to do’’.

Once again, he rolls his eyes and I laugh. It’s really easy to get to f**k with Jules.

During our conversation though, a mental picture forms in my mind. A driven, creative woman with a keen eye for detail. My interest was piqued.

"And the designs?" I asked, leaning forward.

Julian grinned. "They're fine, uncle. I mean, I've seen some of the sketches, and... wow. This summer collection is going to be huge."

"Who's the girl in the bold print dress? The one addressing everyone after the casting?"

He raised an eyebrow, perhaps taken aback by the dumb question, but i need to be sure: "Uh, that’s Debra.... uncle, keep up."

My eyes narrowed, interest piqued. I leaned back in my seat, my mind drifting off as i recalled the reason I'd attended the casting in the first place….. To pick up Julian. My mind was whirled with possibilities, as my nephew continued to chat, oblivious to my intrigue.

Soon after, we arrive at my pent house, Jules' eyes are still glued to his phone, the kids of nowadays.

My whole body is sore from a long day negotiating with investors and meetings with potential prospects. I need a long bath.

30 minutes later, and I'm all washed up and dressed in a comfy knitted sweater and black casual trousers, I head to the kitchen to make something quick and easy to eat. Jules is still sitting on the couch with his phone in his hands and his eyes glued to his screen. I make my way over to him and snatch his phone from his hands. "Heyyyyyyy" he protests....

"Helllloooo," I reply. "You need to shower, eat and rest.... you're not immune to stress, Jules."

"Alright uncle, but please give me the phone. I was in the middle of a very important conversation," he pleads.

"You know I'm not going to do that, Jules," I replied as I walked towards the fridge to prepare two cups of ramen.

Jules is my sister's kid. He's been staying with me ever since he decided to go into modeling. I help him get excellent gigs with my connections in the fashion and beauty industry. He tells me that he wants to do this on his own, but I know too well that the world isn't kind to people like us and neither is America. So I'm going to use my contacts and power to move mountains and obstacles for him. He's a good kid, he knows how to value relationships and opportunities. He makes the most of everything he has ever received with gratitude and responsibility. Sometimes I think he's adopted, he's nothing like his mum, my older sister....a real spoiled queen. She’s touring planet earth at the moment, but if you look closely, they've got the same big heart and warm personality.

A few moments later, Jules comes out of his room, all washed up and dressed in his comfy Winnie the pooh pajamas. I think he's still in touch with his inner kid, or maybe he's a weirdo who still wears Winnie the pooh pajamas at the age of 22.

Either way, I don’t say anything, and we have dinner, watch a little TV and retire for the night. It's been a long day and I need a long sleep.

...............An hour later and my eyes are still wide open, I think of Debbie, the way her hips swayed when she made her way up to the stage, the way her smile reaches her eyes, imagining her delicate fingers resting on my nape, I'm pretty sure she was the one smoking behind the warehouse. Oh, what I'd do to catch a whiff of her scent again.

I should've at least said hi, or found a stupid excuse to make Julian introduce me to her. The runway show is coming up, I'll find an excuse to congratulate her in person and make small talk.

"I can't stand this," I say as i jump off my bed and go to the mini-bar, desperately praying whiskey will drown the thoughts of Debbie and her f*****g fingers. I sound like a creep, thinking about the fingers of a woman I barely said a word to. Her. f*****g. fingers.

"Nae-ga michyeo-ga-neun geoya," I whisper to myself.

'Translation: I must be going insane.'

I take a big gulp of whiskey and go back to bed; it should help me fall asleep.

I lay down in bed, the warmth of the whiskey still lingering on my breath. I feel myself drifting off, the day's exhaustion catching up with me. Just then, my phone buzzed, emitting a soft glow from its screen. I groggily picked it up, expecting it to be a message from my secretary or maybe a notification from a social media app.

The message was from the same private number.

I opened it, and my heart skipped a beat. It was a picture of me, taken earlier that day. I was walking out of the warehouse where the model casting took place, with Julian, unaware of the camera's gaze. Underneath the picture was a message:

"You're playing with fire, Rhett. I'm watching you. Don't feel too relaxed."