A Crime of Fashion by Carina Axelsson Read Free Book Online

and the rest of the bookers were looking at me as if I were a plate of rotting leftovers that they’d just found shoved in the back corner of their refrigerator. Only Mr Leather Jacket with the wicked grin seemed to find the whole thing amusing. I could see his smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he fiddled with his phone.
    â€œEllie, honestly, that kind of decision can only be made by Miriam! In case you have forgotten, this is her agency!” Hervé was apoplectic with rage. Only the thought that the agency could not afford to lose Ellie kept him in check.
    â€œWell, I think she looks great,” Ellie said with a shrug of her shoulders. She knew full well I didn’t, and she also knew exactly how to irritate her bookers by throwing her weight around. “I think it could be fun,” she said turning to me. “We could model together for as long as you’re here. How long are you here for?” she asked.
    â€œA week.”
    â€œFantastic! Then please say you’ll model for the week. We’ll have fun together – I know it. Besides, at this point I could use a new adventure to keep me going. You can be the holiday the agency never lets me take!” Here she paused to smile at the roomful of angry grimaces directed our way. “Besides, fashion loves a new face – especially an interesting one. And don’t worry – I’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know. So, what do you say?”
    My mind was racing. I began to think about the fact that I hadn’t worn a dress since that cheesy family portrait my mum had insisted we take two years ago. Plus there was my hair and glasses… I’d been living for so long behind the wall of anonymity they afforded that the thought of being shorn of my “disguise” was nearly terrifying. Then again, Ellie had inadvertently given me the best possible disguise for this case, the one I never would have thought of: fashion model.
    I stood transfixed, surprised and anxious in equal measure at the idea of modelling. Visions of high heels and lip gloss whizzed through my mind. I’d never tried modelling before. Could I do it? Could I make the leap from being Jenny’s makeover guinea pig to the pages of Vogue (as if I’d ever get that far)? And, more pointedly, could I really use this opportunity to get close to the La Lunes? The last thing I wanted was to get stuck modelling for a week with no pay-off for the case.
    I didn’t hear the ringing phones and non-stop chatter. I stood in a cloud of indecision, waiting for some kind of signal to drop from the sky. Yes? Or no? Ellie was waiting. Now she was the one silently pleading, her eyes willing me to join her for a week of fun. Before any kind of fear bit back at me, I said… “Yes!”
    You could have heard a pin drop in the agency.
    â€œGood, that’s settled then,” Ellie said.
    Hervé looked as if he was going to go straight home from work to stick long sharp pins into the little voodoo effigy he would surely make of me during his lunch break.
    At this moment Aunt Venetia and Miriam strode into the silent room.
    â€œWhat’s settled?” Miriam asked breezily.
    Within two seconds the story was out. I stood next to Ellie, saying nothing.
    Unlike the bookers, Miriam seemed to find the entire situation amusing. “Don’t worry about Spanish Vogue ,” she said, “I’ll speak with them. And Ellie deserves to stop jetting around for a couple of days, don’t you think?” Miriam then turned to me and, cupping my chin in her hand, turned my face this way and that. “Hmm… Well, perhaps…why not? Since Kate Moss, the industry also wants girls who aren’t conventional… Look at all of these London ‘It’ girls – they can hardly be called beautiful in the traditional sense. And, petite Axelle, you do have nice cheekbones.”
    â€œYou cannot seriously expect