Free Stolen with Style by Carina Axelsson Page B

On the far corner of the same table, conveniently within reach of the clothes racks that stood against the far wall, sat the steam iron for taking the wrinkles out of the garments.
    Cazzie wanted us to try on a few outfits and walked to the clothes racks to choose them. Good , I thought, this is my moment to get started by asking Misty some questions . Although starting a conversation wouldn’t necessarily be easy. So far she couldn’t seem to draw her eyes away from her own image in the mirror.
    Misty’s skin reminded me of the alabaster urns we had in our living room at home: smooth, white, and cool. Her movements were measured and poised, and even without makeup and with her long, wavy, blond hair falling naturally, she was mesmerizing to watch—just how you’d imagine a screen star from an earlier era to look. I could understand why she was being predicted as a natural for film. In fact, I knew from my online research that she was about to start acting in her first movie role.
    I moved closer to her and finally asked, “How was the shoot last Friday? Cazzie told me a little about it. She said the photos look great.”
    Misty turned her blue eyes to me and shrugged her shoulders. “If they really looked good, we wouldn’t be here reshooting,” she answered.
    â€œThat’s not true, Misty,” Cazzie interjected as she brushed some lint off a jacket. “This isn’t a reshoot. Friday’s shots really do look good—but as I explained earlier, we felt strongly about also doing an editorial with the Paris fashion show dresses that arrived late. If they’d arrived sooner, we would have shot them on Friday. But shooting them today works out well anyway—it allows us to do totally different hair and makeup.”
    Cazzie’s excuse for gathering all of us together sounded so convincing that I was beginning to believe it myself.
    â€œWe’re going to do six shots today—and another cover try,” Cazzie continued as she looked right at me.
    Cover try? Why was she looking at me as she said that? I wasn’t supposed to be in the cover try, was I?
    Cazzie saw my panic and laughed. “Don’t worry, Axelle. You won’t be in the cover shot. Surely Pat said you’d be doing our ‘Style for Less’ section.”
    I nodded. She had—but I’d forgotten.
    â€œYou’ll be doing three shots, and although these pages go near the front of the magazine, we keep the text to a minimum and each shot gets a full page—so you’ll definitely get something for your book out of it. The pages usually end up looking like they could have come from the back of the magazine.”
    Ellie had told me that magazines often booked new girls they liked for their “Style for Less” pages to try them out. If a magazine was happy with the results, that could lead to the model being booked for the prestigious editorial stories at the back of the magazine.
    I turned back to Misty, ready to try again with my questioning, but just as I started to speak, she put her headphones into her ears and said, “I have to listen to my music now. We’ll talk more later.” Then she sauntered out with a wiggle of her hips.
    Cazzie shook her head. “Don’t worry about Misty,” she said. “She’s always been like that—self-obsessed. And I think it’s become worse with her film career taking off. Although,” Cazzie continued as she peeked out through the gap between the wall and the hanging divider curtain, “it could be that she just wanted to talk to a certain someone.”
    I looked out through the same sliver of space as Cazzie and watched as Misty sauntered toward Brandon. At least I presumed it must be him—he was the only one I hadn’t met properly yet. Judging from his profile and tall build, he was as good-looking as Cazzie had said he was. He’d been busy setting up the lighting when I