Model Guy by Simon Brooke Read Free Book Online Page A

daft idea.
      "Just tell them I'm
dead," I shouted as I headed upstairs to my room, now more determined than
ever to do it - and to succeed at it just to spite them. What better driving force
for a career could you hope for than revenge on your parents?
      They relented slightly
when they saw that I was making a living and enjoying it - that being the order
of importance to them. I just worry sometimes that my career decision is what made
my Dad turn out the way he did.
      I haven't actually told
the agency about my new job. You know, just in case. Well, I told Karyn and she
said she couldn't believe it and she was very sad but she wished me all the luck
in the world. In the end we agreed that I wouldn't go to castings, unless they were
'requests' - in other words the client has specifically asked to see me - but if
jobs came up she would definitely pass them on and I'd take a day off to do them.

 
    I sign another form about being a director and then get introduced
to a guy called Zac who is the technical wiz, as Piers puts it. Zac sits in a corner
surrounded by two giant computer screens, a number of key boards, a computer graphics
drawing board, some CPUs, I think they're called, and an explosive spaghetti of
wires and cables.
      He avoids my gaze shyly
as we shake hands and says in an American accent:
      "Welcome aboard,
bud."
      "Thanks. This all
looks pretty impressive," I say, less out of interest and more by way of conversation.
      "It is," Zac
tells me. He strokes the giant Apple Mac between us. "It's some of the most
sophisticated software packages ever devised running on state-of-the-art equipment
and we're using it all to create the most beautiful images and the most exciting
experience ever on the internet."
      Stunned by this visionary
speech, I let his words sink for a moment.
      "We're all on a journey
here at 2cool," says Piers quietly from over my shoulder.
      I consider this thought,
too.
      How right, he was. If
only I'd known it at the time.

 
    Our secretary is Scarlett. She has bright pink dreadlocks and
is wearing a yellow angora cardigan, a tartan mini-skirt and jelly sandals. I find
myself looking her up and down but she doesn't seem offended - I suppose if you
dress like that you must be used to people giving you a stunned once-over whenever
they meet you.
      "Hi Charlie,"
she says over a firm handshake. "Welcome on board."
      "Thank you,"
I smile, trying to make up for my discourteous gawping. "So what's your background
then Scarlett?" It turns out that she used to work in film post-production,
but has decided that the internet will take over from conventional movie production
and marketing very soon as the principal creative medium of the future.
      I'm about to ask 'Won't
people still want to go to the cinema together?' but it seems churlish and besides
Piers has thrown a pile of glossy magazines on my new desk and is asking me to find
products and services that 2cool would have 'a natural market affinity with'.
      I start to look through
them but almost immediately he gives me a list of things we 'need' for the office,
such as a new stereo system, a visiting masseuse, laptops for him and Guy, and a
couple of company cars because apparently we won't look good arriving at potential
affinity partners' offices in a battered old cab. He also asks me to find out about
trips to Mauritius and some spas in East Asia. "We're going to have to get
away from here, all of us, at some point, and brainstorm. You know, get some distance
from this office so that we can see the wood for the trees."
      I like the idea of brainstorming
and seeing wood rather than trees while two babes give me a simultaneous massage
in a bamboo hut set on stilts above the rippling, azure waters of a secluded lagoon
but I'm not quite sure how to arrange it - or the stereo and the laptops.
      Piers looks slightly surprised
and annoyed.
      "Just ring them up,
get them to send the stuff over and tell them bill