Free Behind the Facade by Rebecca Heap, Victoria

legitimate agency. I’ve written the time and place on the
back.  We don’t normally operate this way, so forgive my intrusion. But
please give it some thought. There’ll be other girls but I think you have a
real chance. No harm in giving it a go, right?” He’d smiled - and what a killer
smile! Squeezed her arm and left.
    It was only when he’d gone and she’d picked
up the card that she’d even realised what he was on about. “Sebastian Sethos ,” it had declared. “Business
Agent. Faces of the Future Modelling Agency.” She’d flipped it over. The address on the back was somewhere she could vaguely
place. One of the new shiny office blocks on Queen Street, she thought, and the
interview time was only an hour away. She’d been cautious of course. This could
just be a trick of some kind.  Then she’d shaken her head. She’d read too
many thrillers lately. This was real life. But nothing like this ever happened
to her in real life!  In the end, the safest thing to do, she’d decided,
was to take her friend Stacey with her as back-up.
    She’d turned up with a giggling Stacey
in tow, who’d had to miss her last class but had been more than willing to
share the adventure. The man at the front desk had directed them to the fifth
floor. There they had found other girls sitting on a line of chairs in the
corridor.  This had both reassured and frightened Brenna. So much
competition! She had no chance. They’d all looked immaculately made-up and had
what looked like portfolios on their knees. She’d nearly turned away.
    But then an efficient looking,
matronly woman with a clipboard had addressed her, asking for her name. Brenna
hadn’t given it and, blushing with embarrassment, instead she’d said, “I think
there’s been some mistake. You won’t have my name. I don’t think I should be
here.”
    Raising her eyebrows, the woman had
retorted, “I’ll be the judge of that. Now why are you here? Did someone invite
you?”
    Brenna had stuttered something like,
“I think I’ll just go. I’m sorry to have troubled you…” as she’d backed towards
the lift.
    It was then the woman had spotted the card
clutched in her hand. She’d prised it from her and nodded. “This is your
invitation. Good.” Taking her arm and taking control, she’d admonished, “Don’t
be shy. Come with me,” giving Brenna no choice but to acquiesce.
    Stacey had made to accompany her but
had been stopped. “No, no. Not you. You must leave.”
    Stacey had looked disgruntled but
Brenna had mouthed, “Don’t worry. It all looks OK. Speak later.” She had been
led swiftly past the other girls, who had fired daggers at her because of her
special VIP,   jump the queue treatment.
     At the end of the corridor
there’d been some double-doors. She’d been ushered through into an open,
well-lit room before a long desk with three extremely serious looking, suited
people behind it. A large man sat in the middle with two very attractive,
well-groomed women on either side of him, one blonde the other dark-haired. All
of them had immediately focused on her, eyes all different in colour but no
different in intensity. Feeling like a contestant on one of those wannabe pop
star shows, she’d made an attempt to flatten her awry hair and had looked
pleadingly at her chaperon for rescue.
    Smiling, her escort had said to the
waiting audience, “This is…” and leaning down had quietly asked Brenna her
name, before finishing off her introduction. 
    Then the man on the panel had said,
“Welcome Brenna.” He’d stood and held out his hand. His smile had looked odd as
though not suited to his face, which was rather pug-like, but it had seemed
genuine enough. “I’m Harry, and this is Hilary and Margot.” He’d gestured first
to his right then his left, introducing the two chicly dressed women.
    “Hi,” replied Brenna nervously as
she’d instinctively moved forwards and taken his hand. His grip had been firm,
his large hand