"Do we have any other Rhea Sinclair in the modeling industry?"
"I'm coming downstairs." She opened her closet and took out a skimpy flowery dress. Few minutes later, Isla Sinclair got out and saw her mother waiting.
"Mom, you could have taken a seat." Isla's good mood made her say that.
"I don't just go into people's houses and feel comfortable. We're colleagues. We should be formal with each other." Isla shrugged.
"If you think so, then. As a colleague, I'm asking you to take your seat now." Rhea Sinclair walked to the biggest chair and sat comfortably.
"I came to get some documents from you."
"What documents?" Isla was confused.
"The ones you used for signing in. Illinois is on the finalist lineup, and we need to get more models to beat other states. You can't do it alone."
"Rhea, I'm not in for this craziness. I know your plans. You'd derive joy in sidelining me and holding on to unexperienced models. You'll get the money for yourself. Why are you so self-centered?"
"Excuse me? I don't understand these proverbs."
"Leave my house." Isla snapped.
"I'm not going anywhere until I have those documents. Why are you so stubborn, huh? Why are you always scared of being sidelined? Why are you so obsessed with this modeling job, and this thing about being noticed? Its a shame, that even with your once bitten twice never shy destiny, you're still all around searching for fame."
"What do you mean by once bitten twice never shy?"
"Get the documents already, Isla. Else..."
"Else what? Will you go to the society, and try to end my career? I've built love and support all by myself, Rhea. I'm now an independent woman. You can't stop me so easily. I've built a strong name."
"Shut up, Isla. You've done enough. You've reached the finalist lineup. Please allow other models to shine. We have a group of over 100 in the modeling team. Why are you so desperate to be number one girl?" Rhea yelled at her daughter.
"Of 100 people, there's always one who stands out. And its me. Are you satisfied now? LEAVE. Leave, Rhea. I can't believe you're my mom." Rhea held on to her handbag and stormed out of the house.
"Ugh!"
"Is she really your mom?"
"Are you asking me that question?" Isla looked around.
"Yes. Rhea Sinclair is my mom. She's wicked, self-centered and stupid. All she wants is chances to rule us. And I won't let that happen. I won't let her have the society's money all to herself. She's nothing but a thief!" Isla said with gritted teeth and clenched fist.
"I advise you shouldn't be at loggerheads with Rhea. Remember, she gave birth to you."
"I DON'T CARE. It doesn't really matter. Rhea and I will fight till one of us wins. It'll surely be me."
"She was right when she said you wanted everyone to notice you. It's good for celebrities to be private at times. You shouldn't be a media wannabe all the time."
"I can't believe you're saying this, Cade. Go be her son."
"Never."
"Wait...who are your parents? You've never said anything about them."
"My parents are in L.A."
"Wow. Hollywood? Its strange. Then why do you work here, if your parents are LA residents?"
"I wanted to gather my own savings. I was advised to go out and be a man. That was why I started managing houses. I managed two houses before this one."
"That means, you're experienced. I'm proud of you." Isla clapped.
"What?" He shot her a glare.
"Yeah. I've never met anyone more dilligent and strict with business. Its not a good thing you work with me, tho. I expected you to be fun."
"Since you want someone fun, then fire me."
"I can't. Its interesting watching you being grumpy and trying to catch up. And back to Rhea, we should learn to avoid her in this house. Not her shows, not her pictures, not her videos."
"Yes boss!" Cade replied Isla professionally, and she smiled with contentment.
The duo learnt to accept each other's differences.
The finalists were called upon to the American Fashion Showcase, for the winner to be announced after seven rounds of outfit show. Natasha Jackson, Harper Loom, Victoria McKindry, Olivia Jux and Isla Sinclair were in their stunning forms, letting out irresistable fashion sense one after the other.
"I love the makeup, but can you add a bit more?" Isla pointed at the eyebrow thickening pencil.
"Isla looks like an idol right now."
"I'm so proud of you, Isla. I'm sure you'll win with this."
Suddenly, Rhea Sinclair made her entry in the dressing room and told everyone that it was time for the last round. Everyone walked out, leaving Isla in the room. She admired herself in the mirror before getting up and heading towards the door.
"Uh??" She struggled with the door knob more than five times.
"What the...what's going on?" Isla kicked the door with her right leg slightly and gasped.
"Who locked the door? Hey!! Someone open this freaking door! Open up, someone please open up!!!" She paid attention to the hallway, and there was dead silence.
"Damn it! That bitch! I'm sure its her!" She bit her finger and sat on the chair worriedly.
"Someone open up this door!!!" She screamed at the top of her voice.
"Ugh!" She searched the dressing table where her phone was placed, then she realized that her phone had also been stolen.
"Rhea Sinclair! Why are you doing this to me?!!" She burst out in angry tears. She opened her handbag and took out another phone. She dialed some models' contact, but they didn't pick up. Her eyes met Rhea's contact and she just had to give her a piece of her mind.
"Rhea! What is your stress? How dare you lock me up?"
"Me? Oh. That must be Judy Keen. She gets cheeky sometimes."
"WHAT? You asked Judy Keen to lock me up! How could you, Rhea? How could you?!" Isla thundered on the phone but Rhea had hung up.
"Shit!" She went to try the door again. When she realized there was no way, she cried out profusely.
"I can't lose this finalist round. I really can't." She ran to the fruit basket, pulled out a knife but it couldn't penetrate through the door.
"I give up." She sighed and buried her face in her palms. Her phone buzzed from the handbag and on seeing the caller id, her face brightened.
"Cade! Cade... I'm..."
"Hey Isla. Where are you?"
"Cade, I was locked in the dressing room."
"What?" Cade exclaimed.
"But how are you gonna get to the stage?"
"Cade, look. You have to come and save me. The door has been locked from outside."
"But..."
"Listen. Cade, just ask someone to give you directions. You have to save me, this finalist is my dream, its my life. If I don't win, someone else will get my spot." Isla pleaded.
"Isla, I'm on my way. Just calm down, okay? You don't have to cry. Wait for me." Cade hung up and Isla sniffed. There was hope.
About 15 minutes later, she heard someone struggling with the door.
"Cade? Is that you?" The door opened and Cade walked in. With overwhelming happiness and relief, Isla was swift enough and pulled him into a tight hug. Cade slowly broke the hug, embarrassed.
"You should get going."
"Yeah." She grabbed her ruffles tightly and ran out of the dressing room with Cade.
Isla Sinclair shone brightly on stage. With her red tight cleavage opening top, decorated with the finest of beads and the skirt was a puffy one, filled with ruffles and long straightened linen.
"We welcome America to the greatest of all shows – previously the Interstate fashion showcase, which brought about these elegant finalists. Natasha Jackson, Harper Loom, Olivia Jux, Isla Sinclair and Victoria McKindry."
"We'll be handing the microphone over to our finalists, because this is the avenue to speak their minds, in the presence of their large fandoms. Natens, let's have a talk with Natasha Jackson." The crowd gave cheers and applauses, waving their flags in the air.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, its a great honor to be here... I wasn't really prepared for this Interstate Fashion Show, because all I was after, were the magazines. I wanted to trend for a hair extension advert. I needed help, I needed support. But I was surprised when my role model, the only woman who has got me anytime, Rhea Sinclair told me I was gonna be in the Interstate Show, representing California. I grew up in California, with ridicule from the residents. I never realized that one day, I'd be someone respected in California. So respected that they'd want me to represent them in a fashion show. This show means everything to these girls. Its an amazement that we get to be the finalists. And I'm not tensed in anyway – I'm not hoping to win. Representing my state through seven rounds wasn't an easy task, and my people got enough hashtags, so I'm happy." The crowd couldn't help but applaud Natasha for her humility.
"Hello Loomers, I actually wanna say I'm proud of myself. I'm proud of my state, and my country. I've managed to get to the finals, not by my power or might, but by Loomers who has been there every step of the way. I'm not bothered about my fandom, and I'm not begging anyone to join it. My people has done enough for me and I'm grateful." Harper Loom spoke.
"This is a great benefit for me and the whole of Dallas. I wouldn't have been here without my friends, my fans and of course, Rhea Sinclair. She must be really proud of me." Victoria McKindry smiled.
Isla and Olivia just shook their heads, and one of the judges spoke.
"Its time for the announcements of the finalists' results." The presenter got off the stage and went to the judges' table who handed an envelope to her.
"The fashion star of the Interstate Showcase for the year is...." The presenter opened up the envelope and the models closed their eyes, praying silently. Cameras clicked at their faces, and videos were being recorded.
"Natasha Jackson!!!" The crowd let out the loud cheer, and live videos instantly got millions of views worldwide. Confetti and roses were blown on Natasha, and she covered her open mouth with her palms, her glittering teary eyes. Isla's eyes widened, with shock and confusion.
Some men in suits came with her belt and trophy, and standing before Isla, one of the men helped Natasha tie the California belt, which had the American flag. The other man handed her the trophy, and she took a picture with it, her eyes filled with tears, with a big smile on her face. Isla didn't wait for the announcement of the second, third place, closing speech, before she got off the stage abruptly.
"ISLA! ISLA! Isla, where are you going?" The show had ended, and Victoria McKindry had seen her leaving in anger.
"Isla, c'mon stop!" Victoria pulled her wrist.
"Let me go, Victoria!" Isla saw the third place medal on her neck and iconic sash.
"Wow, you got third place." There were tears in Isla's eyes.
"I did. But why are you crying?"
"Natasha was first place. Meanwhile, the society had assured me that I had...I had enough votes to win. I had high possibilities. Everyone knew this thing...this show was my dream. I..I've always wanted to represent Illinois. I've always wanted to represent America. Natasha has chances to do that now." Isla sobbed.
"Hey. You don't have to cry."
"Of course, I have to."
"Things will be fine."
"Easy for you to say! You've got the third place."
"Isla..." Victoria tried to console her.
"Why am I even talking to you? You work with Rhea Sinclair." Isla gave her a disgusting look. Victoria chuckled.
"Everyone works with Rhea Sinclair..."
"I don't. I don't work with that evil woman. I should be busy thinking about saving my career. I shouldn't be caught frolicking with Rhea's WRETCHED servants."
"Goodnight." Isla jerked Victoria's hand off and stormed into the car with her bodyguards. The driver drove off immediately.