"How do you feel about losing the first place award to Natasha Jackson despite you had the highest possibility of winning?"
"Do you have plans of starting again in another country?"
"Are you gonna join more international modeling deals?"
"Are you gonna leave your modeling society?"
"Miss. Isla Hollidae, wait and answer the questions. Fingers can't be pointed at you forever." Isla turned around to face the reporters.
"Leave me alone. I'm not in the right frame of mind to answer your foolish and annoying questions. And again, my last name isn't Hollidae. Stop calling me that!" She managed to get away from the crowd and left in her car.
She got home and ran upstairs to Cade's room. She hit the door impatiently.
"Get out of this room!!" On hearing her voice, Cade turned on the shower.
"Ugh. She's here to vent her anger on me."
"C'mon! Why did you turn on that shower?! Are you trying to avoid me?! Open the door!" Isla shouted. Cade stayed in the bathroom, rolling his eyes.
"I warned her. I warned her not to be so rude to her mother. Not only did Mrs. Rhea Sinclair lock her up in the dressing room, she even made sure that Isla lost that show to Natasha Jackson miserably! Let's hear what she's got this time." Cade turned the shower off and opened the door.
He only saw Isla's backview, running downstairs.
"Hey!" He followed her.
"Isla, why are you being grumpy?"
"You're grumpy too, let us both get grumpy and start avoiding each other!" She yelled at him and retired on her dad's favorite couch.
"I saw what happened online. Videos about you storming out of the stage heartbroken is all over the internet."
"How did they know I was heartbroken?"
"It was written all over your face." Cade sat beside her, concerned.
"Rhea Sinclair is a freak." Isla folded her arms, and kept an angry frown.
"But what if Rhea Sinclair didn't plan the whole thing? What if Natasha Jackson was the rightful winner?" Cade thought aloud.
"She did! I'm the fucking rightful winner." Isla's phone buzzed loudly and she stared at it. Cade peeped in curiously.
"Its Rhea." She sent a picture, captioned with a 'LOL' and a mockery emoji. Isla clicked on the picture and was shocked. It looked like the finalist results enclosed in an envelope, showing Isla as the winner of the Interstate fashion show.
"WHAT?" Cade gasped.
"How could she?"
"I told you. I TOLD YOU!" Isla flung her phone and it went crashing to one of the glasses on the dining table.
"How could a mother be so wicked?"
"Rhea Sinclair is..."
"Isla. Calling Rhea names won't solve the problem. It won't bring your medal or your trophy. She's part of your modeling society and if you don't sign out and end things with the society, Rhea will continue controlling your progress. You have all the money and connections. Why don't you sign with a Filipino society? They are also famous for their successful and fast rising models worldwide." Cade suggested.
"That would be really hard. It was my fault anyway. If I had followed my writing dream, I wouldn't be stuck in a modeling society with a selfish mother!" Tears rolled down her eyes.
"You killed the runway showcase, anyway." Isla felt proud on hearing that.
"Thanks. Right now, you're the only one who's on my side. Everyone else is for Natasha Jackson. Even Dad doesn't have time for me." Cade squeezed her hand.
"Its alright. You're the Interstate Showcase winner, you and I are aware of that. You don't have to feel ashamed of not being announced." Isla nodded.
"I heard you saying one time that drinking and hanging out with friends helps you to forget the bad scenes. Why don't you do that?" Isla went upstairs to have a chat with Daisy Damsels on video call. They talked, laughed, and even drank expensive wines simultaneously, in their rooms.
"Imagine what Julie said – her husband was on a business trip and he invited some five-year olds to come stay with his wife, so she wouldn't set the house ablaze." Isla burst out laughing as she shared their discussion with Cade.
"Can't she cook?"
"Julie's horrible when it comes to cooking."
"Wow. Can you cook?" Isla shot him a glare.
"Have you ever tried cooking?"
"Me?"
"I understand. All your life, you've been surrounded by chefs and so many other servants. I'm not sure you've tried to cook." Isla shook her head.
"I don't think I've tried to make a serious meal."
"Can we make a serious meal right now? I mean, for dinner." Cade asked.
"Sure! I...I'd really love to try something different."
"I've been at the grocery store, and I got the ingredients so, watch and learn!" He bragged to the kitchen, and Isla followed him. She watched him holding up each ingredient and talking to her about the usage, washing the pots, spoons, plates and food materials. Isla was staring at the food preparation, but her mind was far away.
"Take a look at your life, my dear. You've been a girl who the whole world looks up to. You've been a celebrity since you were born. And people get the mentality that celebrities like you would like suitors begging for your hand in marriage. But when a lot is spent on a wedding just for you, something comes up and the man runs out of the deal. What's wrong with you, Isla? Why don't you have anyone who...why can't you just have someone who lasts with you?"
"Its a shame, that even with your once bitten twice never shy destiny, you're still all around searching for fame."
"This thing about your inability to last with a man is strange."
"Why don't you just get a cute guy for yourself too?"
"Something's wrong with you, Isla."
"Aren't you never ever gonna fall in love again?"
"Isla Sinclair must be cursed."
"Do you have a habit that is quite disgusting to men? Does the tits behind the outfit disgust men? Aren't you sexually attractive? Don't you know how to decieve men with your body? Don't you know how to pull a man close?"
"If you wanna get a man all to yourself and never lose him, its not all about being of good and respectful character. Its not all about earning respect from everyone around. Guys are crazy about the juicy underneath."
"I wonder why I've got a daughter who's so beautiful and popular but doesn't have good luck with men. It's a stain on us, you know? You should really get a guy with ill luck, who you are compatible with."
"You should really get a guy with ill luck, who you are compatible with."
"Do you have ill luck?" The weird question escaped Isla's lips.
"Ill luck? What do you mean?" Cade dropped the spoon. Isla sighed.
"Of course – you're not like me. Once bitten, never shy. Despite being twice divorced and widowed, I'm still on the run trying to be Miss. World. I wanna take my modeling career to the next level and I don't mind other models."
"Dad asked me to get someone with ill luck. Someone who's also got my tragic story." Cade chuckled.
"I always thought I had that 'ill' luck. But, I will like us to forget about it right now."
"Tell me."
"Can we please, please Isla, save this folder for another day? Please." Isla wasn't satisfied, but was hungry already.
"Okay. Chapter temporarily closed." Cade smiled.
"Fried chicken or grilled chicken?"
"Grilled." Cade hit the kitchen table thrice before reaching out for the chicken.
Rhea relaxed in her cushion couch. Her feet were in a bowl of warm water, while her arms were massaged by two spa attendants. She had a soft furry scarf tied around her head, and a furry white robe on.
"There's nothing more relaxing and comfortable than the life of Rhea Sinclair. The one and only hottest fashion icon and society member, who has never experienced poverty. Ah. Don't you think?" She faced one of the spa attendants, and she nodded.
"Uh, uh. We're so happy for your modeling society." The attendants smiled.
"Shut up. I didn't call you here to make comments on my modeling group. Do your work, silently." She sounded stern.
"Miss. Rhea, your chicken soup and chocolate cake has been served." One of her chefs came to inform her.
"This is a special day! Cook more meals!"
"But....meals are all over the table. Are you inviting anyone?"
"Some models are coming to celebrate. Including California's current joy, Miss. Natasha Jackson. Bake some milky doughnuts for her. She's allergic to chocolate."
"Oh. Okay." The chef left.
"Change the bowl of water, its getting too cold."
"Ah. This is the happiest day of my entire life. The model I trained, winning the Interstate Fashion Show, and not just that, the whole country is singing my praises." The door bell rang and Rhea shouted at her maids.
"WILL YOU GET THAT DOOR?!" They ran to the door, shaking all over like palm trees. The door was open and seven models walked in.
"Good evening, house..."
"Hi..."
"Hi Miss. Rhea.." They all exchanged pleasantries, and Natasha Jackson was ushered to the dining. Other models followed.
"I'm so happy for you, Natasha. It was a honor to be the one behind your success. It's my pride." Rhea congratulated Natasha Jackson.
"Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair. It would be tough without you."
"It was a miracle anyway. Natasha had like 20% possibilities of winning that show." One model added.
"Pour us the wine! Will you just stand there and stare?" Rhea yelled at her cook and she poured the wine in each glass.
"Let's toast everyone!"
"To Natasha's success." One of the models said.
"Yeah, Natasha and the modeling society."
"Cheers."
Cade served the plates of hot grilled chicken and spicy fish sauce.
"It looks good, already." Cade sat and they tasted the chicken and sauce simultaneously.
"Hmmm. I love it!" Isla exclaimed.
"Its really delicious. I did a good job right?"
"Yeah, yeah." Isla nodded.
"I wish I could take some to Dora. Its her favorite." Cade said inaudibly.
"Who's Dora?"
"Um...My little girl."