"Twisted," Jonas smirked from behind the lens.
During their lunch break, they put their robes back on and huddled with the crew around the buffet table, piling their plates with vegetables and seared tuna. (Rare, thank God, Bliss thought.)
"Smoke?" Jonas asked, taking a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. "C'mon girls, join me."
They put down their plates and followed him and Anka out to the balcony.
"So, you both go to Duchesne?" Anka asked, taking out a long menthol cigarette and breathing in as Jonas lit it with his Zippo.
"Uh-huh," Bliss nodded, accepting a somewhat squashed Camel from Jonas.
Schuyler shook her head. Cigarettes made her ill. She was just out there for the company and the view. The balcony overlooked the abandoned railway flats next to the river. A barge was slowly making its way across the water. Schuyler looked out happily. She would never get tired of looking at the city.
"I went to Kent," Anka volunteered. "I met Jonas at RISD."
Jonas nodded. "We've been collaborating ever since." He blew out a smoke ring. "We're so glad we found you girls. We really wanted our kind to be the face of the campaign."
"Our kind?" Schuyler asked.
Anka laughed, and flashed her fangs at them.
"You're Blue Bloods!" Bliss gasped.
"Of course." Jonas nodded, amused. "Most people in fashion are. Haven't you noticed?"
"How can you tell?"
"You just know—in the shape of the eyes and a certain overall bone structure," Jonas explained. "Plus, we're also really, really picky. Just look at Brannon Frost, the editor-in-chief of Chic. Hello."
"She's a vampire?" Bliss goggled. But then, it made so much sense—the frail figure, the dark oversized sunglasses, the pale skin, the rigorous dedication to perfection.
"Who else?" Schuyler asked.
Jonas rattled off several more names: a popular «bad-boy» designer who had recently revitalized the goth-grunge look, a model who was the current face of a lingerie company, an acclaimed makeup artist who popularized blue nail polish. "There are tons," he said, tossing his cigarette off the balcony.
They changed the subject when several people from the crew came out to join them, and Jonas started to tell a series of raunchy jokes that only Perfection could match in grossness. Schuyler laughed with all the rest, feeling like she and Bliss were part of an ad hoc, slightly deranged family.
"Why isn't Mimi here?" Schuyler asked suddenly. It didn't make sense that she would have this experience while Mimi, who thrived on this kind of attention, had been left out.
Bliss suddenly laughed. She'd completely forgotten about Mimi. Mimi would die when she heard that Bliss and Schuyler had been chosen for the Stitched for Civilization campaign and not her!
"Yeah, where is Mimi?" Bliss asked.
Jonas scratched his head. Schuyler noticed the faded blue marks on his arms. "Mimi Force? We considered her for like, a second. Remember, Ank? What happened with her?"
"Linda told me her day rate," Anka said. "Apparently when she signed up, she told Linda she wouldn't get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars a day. Sorry, girls, but without any experience, that's just not realistic. I didn't even make an offer. Besides, we wanted you two."
"I guess sleep is just too important to her." Bliss smirked. "She doesn't know what she's missing." Bliss gave Schuyler one of her rare, genuine smiles.
"Right." Schuyler nodded.
Schuyler smiled back. She was starting to like Bliss Llewellyn even more.
They went back to the shoot, draping themselves over each other, and when Jonas shouted, "Fire! Fire! Give me fire!" they practically burned the lens.
CHAPTER 25
They let her keep the jeans! Schuyler was thrilled.
The shoot ended late, way past the six o'clock end time, and by the time they were done it was dark outside. She said her good-byes in a flurry of air kisses, waving madly to everyone at the corner. The merry gang dispersed—Anka and the stylists disappearing in a Town Car, the hair and makeup crew into taxicabs, Jonas and his assistants to the nearest bar.
"Do you want a ride uptown?" Bliss asked. "My driver should be here shortly."
Schuyler shook her head. "Thanks, but no. I think I'm going to walk a bit." It was a nice night, cloudless and brisk.
Bliss shrugged. She was already sucking on a cigarette, and in her tight T-shirt, new jeans, and purple monkey-fur jacket, she looked every inch an off-duty model. "Suit yourself. Don't forget, mi casa, tonight at ten."
Schuyler nodded. She hugged the plastic bag with her new jeans tightly. She was back to wearing her many layers—a black T-shirt over a black turtleneck over a black jersey skirt over a pair of gray jeans and white-and-black striped stockings, with her beat-up black combat boots. She meant to walk east toward Seventh Avenue, and continue to stroll up through Times Square, Lincoln Center, and the Upper West Side on the way home.
As she walked east toward Tenth Avenue, she felt a little wary. The streets were completely deserted; the warehouse buildings that housed new art galleries were dark and forbidding. The streetlights flickered and there were puddles on the ground from a recent rainstorm. Schuyler suddenly wished she had taken Bliss up on the offer of a ride. Feeling anxious, she began walking faster toward the well-lit avenues. If she could only get to Ninth, with its coffeeshops and boutiques, she knew she would be safe.
She tried to shake the fear off, thinking it was merely paranoia from the dark—and who was she to be afraid of the dark anyway? She was a vampire! She laughed ghoulishly, but she felt a prickle of fear just the same.
She couldn't deny it anymore.
Someone was following her.
Or some thing…
She broke out into a quick run, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and her breath coming in quick gasps. She turned around…
A shadow against a wall.
Her shadow. She blinked. Nothing. There was nothing and no one. You're just paranoid, you're just paranoid, she told herself. She forced herself to walk slower, to show herself she wasn't afraid.
Only a few more steps to the haven of Ninth Avenue… so close… she turned around one more time… and felt something reach around and grab her by the neck. She struggled to breathe, to open her eyes, to kick away, but she couldn't scream; it was as if something had locked her throat and was squeezing it tightly. A dark, giant creature… tall and strong as a man, a dense and noxious presence with… crimson eyes, crimson eyes with silver pupils shining in the dark, staring at her… boring into her brain… and then she felt it…
No! No! No!
She refused to believe it, but yes, there were fangs pricking her skin—but how could it be? She was one of them! What was this?
With all the strength she had, she pushed back at her attacker—but she flailed, scratching at nothing it was like the wind had her in its grip—it was no use, the fangs came down stabbing her neck—her blood, her bright blue blood, seeping the life out of her… She was dizzy and confused… she was going to pass out—when a blue-black blur suddenly materialized, barking madly.
Beauty!
The bloodhound snarled and leaped at the dark creature. The monster released her, and Schuyler staggered onto the dirty sidewalk, clutching the side of her neck. Her bloodhound ran in circles, snarling and barking loudly. The dark creature disappeared.
Beauty was still barking when Schuyler finally opened her eyes. Someone was holding her up.
"Are you okay?" Bliss Llewellyn asked.
"I don't know," Schuyler said, still in shock. She tried to regain her balance, leaning heavily on Bliss's shoulder, her legs still shaking.
"Easy," Bliss soothed.
Beauty was still barking, with loud, angry howls, and growling at Bliss.