Chapter 7

God. My meeting with Mark really upsets me after all. I like this guy but I'm not worth his friendship any more. If he knew what I’m capable of he’ll despise me and will never see me again I guess.

I’m very impressed by what he has achieved so far. I remember the sudden change that happened to him our last year of high school. Nobody got it. Not even his parents.

He started to arrive on time, sitting always in the front rows in class. He who used to be rather dissipated and a bit provocative with the teachers, turned into an attentive student, taking notes, thinking during class and even after.

There was a firmness unknown until then and at home, his mother herself didn’t know what to think. Should she be worried or rejoice at this turnaround?

I remember how his marks skyrocketed, how the teachers were surprised and some on the defensive or suspicious waited for any sign of cheating or failure. But Mark, against all odds, was unshakable and remained incredibly focus, spending all his time studying on line or in his books.

He also managed to enroll his pal Samy in this new adventure. Mark has this kind of charisma.

He trained him to understand and learn his lessons, and fill in his gaps. They stood together, checked and worked together as soon as possible at Mark's home or in cafes near the school. That’s when Samy the geek adopted new glasses. His round mounts, added to his blond curls and his big blue eyes emphasize his big-child side. The contrast with Mark's thick-haired brown head, which emphasize his square face with his determined chin and dark, penetrating gaze, was striking.

Mark maintained his course, being motivated and a hardworking student, while I was getting more and more into drugs and sex to pay for my dope.

Finally when June arrived Mark passed his final test with great marks while I hardly managed to pass the exam myself.

The following summer, he spent it working for a Japanese restaurant delivering sushi throughout the capital. He seemed to enjoy discovering Paris and its unknown neighborhoods.

He used to talk like a big kid about the sumptuous apartments near the Trocadero and around the Eiffel Tower.

Above all, he took great pleasure in riding around Paris at night on a scooter. The aesthetics of the city moved him every time. He said then that to work as a deliveryman under these conditions was not really working.

I admired him for that and felt even worse, doing nothing to earn my living or becoming an adult. I continued my way downwards instead.

Like today. To avoid suffering … let’s go out.

Let’s forget my life as usual by going out to a party, just to escape reality. I’m well aware of what I’m doing. Destroying myself. But who cares really except Mark maybe?

My whole life is an escape, a runaway from everything.

Thanks to my family, I’ve kept many contacts in some upper class circles of Paris and after a few phone calls I’m invited to a party in a mansion near the Champs-Elysees.

Well, this handsome middle-aged man is attracted by me, as usual - I don’t know why I attract this kind of men, slightly gray hair, close to their forties.

He’s pretty much outright.

‘Are you looking for work by chance, young lady?’

At first surprised, I think it could be a good sign. So I reply laughing.

‘You’re incredible. How did you guess? Or is it so obvious?’

‘Not at all. I assure you. In fact I’m the one looking for people like you. Slim, with class, simple but stylish. Let me introduce myself. Fabrice Descamps. I run a modeling agency and you know we are always looking for new faces or new lines and you would be perfect for this job. Have you never thought of it?’

‘Me? A model? You're kidding.’

‘Not at all! On the contrary! You’re perfectly in tune with the times.’

‘And for what kind of brands?’ I ask.

'Top secret. If you feel like it, you must first have a shoot with my favorite photographer. Tomorrow morning is it possible?’

‘Oh well ! You at least, you’re direct. Yes, give me a number and I'll call you tomorrow.’

‘You don’t know your schedule? Or you have to move something else maybe? he asks

‘Exactly’ I answer laconically, not wishing to expand on my schedule with a stranger.

‘Okay, I don’t insist. Here's my card. I'm waiting for your call tomorrow. And your name is?’

‘Emma’ I say taking the card from his hands and putting it into my bag.

Then I turn on my heels and walk away to show him we’re done for now.

I need to think about his unexpected request.

I’m mingling for while, catch a few delicious small sandwiches. I refuse the glass of champagne that was offered to me and opt for a simple fruit juice.

Then I’m looking around the room, looking for the trays on which run free coke lines.

Discreetly I sneak into the back of the room, near the DJ who is struggling to liven up the evening. Once I’ve snorted some lines, the euphoric side made its effect very quickly.

I got in the center of the dance floor and let myself go to the rhythm of the music, just to forget everything. Let’s go and get another line.

I’m dancing I don’t know with whom. I hate his palms on my bottom but I don’t care to argue.

Let’s take a last line and go home before the nice effects disappear.

A joint would relax me on my way home, facing my loneliness.

During this time inside…

Fabrice followed Emma with his eyes and understood her little game.

He was glad to see her approach the lines of coke. Obviously, it explained her diaphanous air, her fragile look and the slight trembling of her hands she had taken care to hide in the pockets of her pants.

Good to know for the future he thought.

He spent the rest of the evening observing her dancing, being flirted, looking elsewhere, indifferent to both men and women. Then she went back to find another line of powder. Her little game lasted until midnight.

During this time outside…

Matthew was here in the evening when she came in this mansion.

He took the opportunity to note the comings and goings of some celebrities. There were some great names in the world of finance, politics, fashion, modeling and showbiz. He took some pictures with his cell phone and notes on his notebook. Many faces were familiar to him but he couldn’t put a name on them. He usually had other fish to fry than reading about the so called ’People’. But with photos and recognition programs in the office, he would find out that the next day. He patiently hid in his car, until Emma’s departure.

With her smile and her pace, he guessed that she was high on something and thought he had been well inspired to note all these comings and goings of famous people: he’d been right in suspecting her to have come here to get some dope. Coke usually in this kind of parties.

Recently arrived, she must already be suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Or she was seeking contacts.

The evidence accumulated tonight could still be used someday. The case was growing even though, in fact, drug consumers didn’t interest him really.

But his job had taught him for a long time that chance was often a good thing and some details, insignificant at first, could be crucial to trace back to some important people.

Fortunately, criminals always ended up making mistakes. Matthew was growing fond of Emma, and when he saw her get into a Mercedes that had stopped by her side, he had some chills for her. He was hoping that it is not one of these bastards, taking advantage of the situation.

He followed them.

The car just stopped at the her front door. Matthew, curious, continued to follow him.

The driver stopped at what appeared to be his home. Matthew took photographs of him and noted his license plate.

Too tired for a second night of hideout in front of Emma’s home, he called his colleague Ezio to replace him.

Ezio slept in his car. Starving at seven o'clock in the morning, he went out to stretch his legs and have a coffee-croissant at the bar counter at the corner. Then he waited again until Emma came out about ten o'clock.

Well dressed and made up, she headed for the subway. Ezio nearly lost her several times. She went out to the George V subway and walked down the avenue of the same name. There, she rushed into a beautiful building. Ezio approached and noted "Model Descamps Agency".

This matched up with the name of the owner of the car that had taken her home the night before. Things started to fall into place.

What's the point of continuing his spying? He called Matthew who actually told him to go back to the headquarters. He had interesting news.

Back to Emma…

I get up this morning feeling both exhausted and excited. I pick up the card from my bag and give a phone call to the manager of the modeling agency. ‘ Come as soon as you can. We're waiting for you’, he says and hangs up.

I take the tube and walk down to a large, luxurious building.

I go inside in a large, spacious hall decorated with some piece of art.

I give my name to the receptionist.

‘Emma Larson for Fabrice Descamps please’.

She shows me into a shooting studio.

Fabrice comes to meet me and introduces me to the photographer.

‘Thank you for coming so fast. Jean-Louis will do you a little shooting session.

First of all, Sophie will give you some clothes to put on and she will make you up.

You're just as pretty as you are, but it's just for the lights.’

‘Fine with me’ , I say and enter her make up studio.

I don’t like the style she chose: the clothes are too baggylike, the make-up makes me look sad. But I know, that’s the last fashion in modelling.

I guess Fabrice liked me because I’m long, slim--almost too skinny. With my way of living, I’m seldom hungry for some reason.

Then Sophie brings me back to the shooting studio.

‘Come in, feel comfortable’ Fabrice says and shows me to the spot in the room with lamps on and a green screen behind.

‘Why is it green’ I wonder.

‘That way we can add whatever we like behind’ Jean-Louis replies.

Then he turns on some strong fans so my hair is flying away…

'Don’t look at me, move, feel free, imagine you’re in the mountains somewhere or one of your favorite places, as long as it’s not a café or a pub, haha’, he adds laughing at his own joke.

Maybe he’s trying to make me feel relaxed, but I definitely don’t think he’s funny.

'You know you look great, very photogenic indeed.’ Fabrice nods while looking at the results.

'Thanks. So what’s next?’

‘I’ll meet the manager tomorrow so I’ll let you know as soon as I know. But he should be pleased with your profile.’

I go and change clothes before leaving. I’m not sure I like doing this. I felt so much like an empty doll. A rather strange feeling.

But my whole life is quite empty anyway so what am I complaining about?

If it’s good money. We’ll see if they liked me.

Outside

Outside Matthew is observing and taking notes and pictures of who comes in and out, and recognize some familiar faces. No wonder… When it comes to drug dealers it’s a little world indeed.

Still, he’s suddenly astonished to see an unexpected person coming in the studios…