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Green Rooms. Ugh.
Why the fuck are they called green rooms anyway? I’ve never sat in a single one that was fucking green. Mostly they’re cream or white or some boring shit like that. God. I hate this part of every show, the waiting. I sometimes feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, as they say. One of these days all these people are going to realize that I’m completely and utterly full of shit and all leave before I even get on stage.
As far as green rooms go, the one they’ve got me in at the Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia is pretty damn swanky. I’m laying on a really nice, plush, leather sofa that, surprisingly, is big enough for me to stretch my entire 6’ 2” frame on. I could probably go for a nap right about now.
Sometimes the travel kills me. I still feel jet-lag, even after all this time, and even if I’m only hopping one measly time zone. I flew in this morning from home. Chicago. The only place I’ve really ever felt at home. But now that I’m onto my fourth major speaking tour, I’m feeling just as disconnected from Chicago as I do from everything else. I live out of fucking suitcases for God’s sake.
I used to love home. White Sox games in the summer with my brother and father, and Bears games in the winter. My mother was always dragging me and Emmett to all the boring museums that she could think of so that we could gain some “culture.”, or so she said. Whatever the deal, our parents loved us and wanted us to be happy.
One of my favorite memories growing up was of our yearly 4th of July barbecue. Chicago was always buzzing the week of July Fourth. It coincided with the popular attraction, Taste of Chicago. Often, as a family, we would head downtown and wander around Grant Park going from food stand to food stand; eating, drinking and enjoying time as a family. And every year on the actual Fourth we would hold a big family party.
Dad would cook burgers, hot dogs and chicken on the grill, and Mom always made her famous potato salad. Our aunts, uncles, cousins, and even Grandma and Grandpa Cullen would come over to the house and we would spend the whole day as one big happy family. Grandpa never failed to set up the croquet set, forcing the kids to play a couple of rounds with him. It always resulted in us chasing eachother around with hammers. I’m still not quite sure how he never figured out croquet was a bad idea with the Cullen kids. In the evening, after heaping slices of mom’s apple pie, ice cream, and whipped cream - made from scratch - we’d all pile in as few cars as possible and head toward the lakefront for the fireworks. Something about those days just screams summer and family to me. I loved every minute.
Sighing, I sit up and lay my head on the back of the couch and stretch my legs out in front of me, flexing my feet back and forth. I always have this ball of nervous energy to contend with before a show. One of these days this is all going to blow right the fuck up in my face. I swear. I never should have let Jasper talk me into this shit.
Just as I’m finishing that thought, he knocks and opens the door, not waiting for me to answer. He’s wearing this stupid-ass microphone-headset-thing that I constantly make fun of him for. He always tells me it’s what PA’s and managers wear for these sorts of things. He wants to look like he’s “plugged in,” whatever the hell that means. The best part? The damn thing isn’t even plugged in. He pulled the cord out of it to use on one of his last projects. Boy loves to tinker with shit. Still, he wears the headset part around on his head and carries a clipboard. If anyone knew that the papers he was carrying around were just a bunch of naughty sketches he does when he’s bored, they’d laugh their assess off.
“Yo! E, 15 minutes man. You should see the crowd out there, fucking huge. I mean, come on. The Wells Fargo Center? Ever think this was possible?” he laughs.
“Nope, can’t say I ever did, Jay. Would never have expected this in a million years.”
“Okay, I’ll let you get back to your, um....what the hell were you doing anyway? You looked like you were trying to drive a paddleboat or something with your feet.”
“I don’t know Jay. Just trying to get rid of the nervous energy. Just give me a minute? I’ll be right out.”
“Sure thing. I’ll see you out there.”
He closed the door behind him and I stare into the mirror for a minute, and then scrub my hands down my face. He means well. He really does, but sometimes he’s just so ridiculous even I have to laugh. I’ve known Jasper since junior year of high school. He moved to Chicago with his family from somewhere in bumfuck Kentucky. He’s never even lost the accent. One day at lunch he sat down at my table, looked me straight in the eye and said “you sure are perrrty...” and proceeded to place his hand on my knee. After I kicked his ass, we laughed so hard about the whole thing that we’ve been best friends ever since. And no, Jasper isn’t gay, he just thought that shit was funny.
I run my fingers through my hair one last time and make my way out into the dingy, concrete hallway that will lead me to the stage of the Wells Fargo Center. Waiting in the hallway are Alice and Rose.
Alice is my head of security. Now when most people hear that they laugh uncontrollably for about 15 minutes and then ask, ‘no seriously, she’s like, your stylist or something, right?’ But no, all 5’ 1” of Alice is my head of security, and trust me, she can be scary as fuck. She’s a former Marine Sergeant Major and holds more black belts than she owns Prada bags. And trust me, that’s a lot of black belts. You should see how many suitcases she brings on tour. Jesus, that woman loves to shop. And her dear husband lets her, the jackass.
~ALM~
Alice and Jasper have been married for about three years. Before we started the whole motivational speaking gig, Jasper was working as an engineer and was contracted out to a US Marine Corps unit stationed somewhere in upstate NY. The commanding officer of the unit was none other than one Ms. Alice Brandon. The two had to work closely together on some top-secret project that the government had ordered and long nights spent draped over a drafting table, turned into long nights draped over a drafting table, if you know what I’m saying. The two have been inseparable ever since. They dated and did the long distance thing for a few months until both of them were worn out, and strung out, from not seeing each other often enough. Alice took an option for early retirement from the Marines and moved to Chicago where Jasper’s firm was based.
Alice was looking into starting her own security company in Chicago when she met Rose, her sister-from-another-mister, as they like to say. Alice thought with her background she could start a private security firm that would hire out to the rich and famous of Chicago for protection details. Rose was working for the CIA at the time, but was looking for a change as well. Rose worked in intelligence, which meant long hours at her computer analyzing threat information and looking into potential terror cells. Although originally she loved what she did, she hated being stuck in an office all the time. Fate brought the two of them together over coffee and a CraigsList ad that Alice had placed looking to recruit for her team. They hit it off immediately and went about discussing NDAs, possible client contacts, and pay rates over an afternoon of Jimmy Choo’s and Burberry bags.
One night, a couple weeks later, Alice and Jasper were coming over for beers and video games at the apartment that Emmett and I shared. So what if it happened to be the in-law apartment in the basement of Mom and Dad’s house? It was our place and we could do what we wanted.
At any rate, they brought Rose along to hang out for the night. She and Alice had been attached at the hip pretty much since their meeting. Plans were running along smoothly for their security company and Rose had officially left her job with the CIA to help Alice get things off the ground. They’d actually agreed to a business partnership rather than Rose just working for Alice.
Mom had been down at our place earlier in the day to get it all presentable for our guests. I loved when she thought of things like that, because cleaning up the pizza boxes and laundry just wasn’t something that crossed my mind on a daily basis. If it wasn’t something I thought of, it sure as hell wouldn’t have passed through the airspace in my twin brother’s head.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother dearly, but more often than not he is the laziest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. Emmett is in law school, but I can tell you that I’ll be surprised if he ever finishes. He’s in year 4 of a 3 year graduate program at the University of Chicago, but as far as I know he might actually be almost done. Emmett was never one to stress himself over...well, anything. He was brilliant, funny, and happy-go-lucky. I can’t remember a time when anything has bothered him. But, that was part of his problem. Living in mom and dad’s basement never bothered him. Not finishing school never bothered him. Having absolutely no job prospects if he actually did accidentally finish school never did either.
At that point in our lives, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do either. I had done well in school, attending Morgan Park Academy, and was assuming I’d go on to college for something or other when I’d graduated. That plan was thrown for a loop one day shortly after graduation from high school. I was at the local mall, looking for a necklace for my girlfriend at the time, Tanya. We were about to celebrate our one year anniversary, and I supposed that I should get her something nice, or so mom had suggested. So, armed with Dad’s AmEx, I had found myself peering into brightly lit, glass-topped cases at my local Kay Jewelers.
~ALM~
My cousin, Elizabeth, offered to go to the mall with me and be my “girly” set of eyes when picking out Tanya’s gift. We wandered in front of what Lizzie called “the sparklies and shinies” and I randomly pointed to things, asking for her thoughts. I really had no idea what Tanya would like or what was appropriate for a one-year anniversary when I was only just 18 years old. I mean, I wasn’t shopping for an engagement ring, that was for damn sure.
I got Elizabeth’s attention as I pointed to a little silver heart pendant that I thought might be a good fit for what I needed. Suddenly, from across the case I heard a small gasp.
“My God, your hands!!”
“I’m sorry? What? Am I not supposed to touch the case? I...uh...shit...I’m sorry.”
“No, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all. Here, let me see...” the voice said as she gripped my hand firmly with both of hers.
Elizabeth looked at me and silently asked ‘what-the-fuck-is-she-doing?’ with her eyes. I just shrugged.
As I turned my attention back to the sales lady, Sarah, according to her nametag, she was repeatedly flipping my hand back and forth and studying my hands.
“Did you know that you have amazing hands?”
“Uh...no?” What the hell does that even mean?
“Well, you do. Your fingers are so long and gorgeous. They’re just perfect. I’m actually a bit of an agent on the side. Modeling agent that is. And we’re always looking for strong hand models. Would that be anything you’d be interested in checking out?”
“Um, well...I’ve never really thought much about it, to be honest. Uh, what...what would I have to do?”
“Oh nothing much actually. I’d just need you to come to the studio, maybe tomorrow afternoon, while we take some test shots. Then I will send them around to some clients and see if you’ve got what they’re looking for. That’s really it.”
“Really? That could be okay, I guess.”
“Let’s do it! Here’s my card. Stop by that address tomorrow around 4pm and we’ll get you all set up. You could make some serious money, uh...” she trailed off, holding out her hand for me to shake.
“Uh, Edward. I’m Edward,” I replied, shaking her hand in return.
“Well, Edward, I will definitely see you tomorrow. Now, was there something here you were interested in?”
I shook my head slightly to get it back on track after the random ambush. “Uh, yeah. My cousin here was helping me pick something out for my girlfriend. It’s, uh, our anniversary. I was thinking that heart necklace, maybe.”
I felt like such an idiot, stumbling over all of my words all of a sudden. She’d certainly thrown me off.
“Oh, she’ll love it! Let me just wrap it up for you!”
“Uh, yeah, thanks.”
She gave me my total and as I slid dad’s black AmEx across the case I swear I saw her eyes flash. Her smile grew wider as she handed over the card and a slip for me to sign.
“Mr. Cullen,” she said sneaking a peek at the name on the card as she handed it back, “thank you so much for stopping in today. It’s been a pleasure. I cannot wait to see you tomorrow.”
I took the little black bag, emblazoned with Kay Jewelers’ logo, and headed out of the store and toward the food court with Elizabeth. We decided to grab some lunch before we headed home. Sitting down at a table with our plastic trays covered with large slices of pizza and fountain sodas, Elizabeth turned to me with a concerned look on her face.
“E, listen. I don’t know what your thoughts on that woman back there are, but I just have to say this. I’ve seen tons of this stuff before, here at the mall with my friends. These modeling agents are really just out to get money from unsuspecting idiots. Just think about things before you get too involved, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing. I’m not too worried about it. Fourteen year old girls might fall for their crap, but I’m smarter than that. I’m just going to go check out what they want to say. Don’t worry about me.”
We finished lunch and I dropped Elizabeth off at home before heading back home to Logan Square.
The next day, as I walked into the offices and studios of Smith Modeling, Elizabeth’s words from lunch the previous day flashed back into my head. I quickly shook them away, however, knowing that I wasn’t stupid and I wouldn’t be fooled by someone just telling me what I wanted to hear.
Sarah greeted me with a warm smile when she saw me enter. She explained that she works at the mall part time mostly to be able to interface with different people and to scout for the agency. She led me down a hallway, which was lined with simple black frames showcasing model after model that the agency had found and promoted. At the end of the hall we stepped into a large workspace, complete with backdrops for taking pictures, a few high topped design desks, and a couple of closed doors to what I assumed were either bathrooms or changing rooms.
Sarah continued walking toward one of the desks. She chatted with what I’m assuming was one of the other agents and one of the photographers and then brought me over to one of the photo backdrops.
“OH. MY. GAWD. Sarah! Is this the piece of man-meat you were chattering on about yesterday? Look at that face! That hair! He’s simply gorgeous. We simply MUST do a full work up on this one. We just have to. He’s going to be HUGE! And I bet he is too...if you know what I’m saying.”
My head is spinning. The most fabulously gay photographer I’ve ever seen is walking circles around me wide-eyed and gushing as he pokes and prods at my shirt, my tie, and my hair. I’d dressed up a little for the meeting, and suddenly I felt very, very self conscious.
Sarah giggles at her photographer and looks at me expectantly. “Well? What do you say? Want to do a full shoot instead of just your hands? I can shop it around a little bit and see what some of the reactions are. Laurant really is right, you could do great things with your bone structure.”
Suddenly I feel Laurant, who has continued to poke and prod while Sarah was talking, pinch my ass.
“Fuck! What was that for, man?” I can feel my cheeks begin to heat up in embarrassment.
“Sorry! Just had to see. Just as I suspected. Tight little ass on this one. Nice pick, Sarah.”
Sarah giggles again. “Don’t mind him, Edward. He’s harmless. Now, let’s get started shall we? We can get some photos and then we’ll talk over the process.”
“Um, sure. Okay.” I slowly make my way over to the backdrop where Laurant’s camera is set up, all the while rubbing my ass. That shit hurts.
The rest of that day passed in a blur of flashbulbs and consent forms. Before I knew it, I’d forked over almost $1500.00 and had signed a contract with Smith that would last for the next two years. I’m not entirely sure how all of that happened, but when I got home my mom could tell something was up.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked, putting a plate of dinner on the table in front of me.
“Mom, I think I might have done something really dumb today, but I’m not sure.”
“Tell me about it, and we’ll see.”
So I told her the whole story, starting the day before at the mall with Sarah, and then what Laurant had said, and what I’d signed, and lastly, how much I’d spent on headshots.
“Well, honey. That certainly is a lot to take in. How are you feeling about it all?”
“I’m not even sure Mom. It all just happened so fast. I mean, I probably just wasted a ton of money and nothing is going to come from it at all, I’m sure, and I just feel like I got duped.”
“You still have school starting in the fall. If this doesn’t work out, we’ll just call it a loss and you’ll know better next time. But, hey, you never know.”
“Yeah I guess...” I trailed off, lost in thought.
The rest of June came and went with little interest. I was just enjoying this time off before I was supposed to report to the University of Chicago as an undeclared freshman in August and I still hadn’t heard anything more from Sarah or Smith Modeling. Still really having no idea what I wanted to do made getting excited for college a little difficult, but I was sure that there would be fun to be had either way. A couple of weeks after our big barbeque my phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Hi, yes, is this Edward Cullen?”
“Uh, yes, who’s this?”
“This is Bianca from Smith Modeling. Sarah asked me to give you a call and have you stop by the studio. She has an offer she’d like to go over with you. Are you available tomorrow afternoon?”
An offer? Holy shit. Smith Modeling is calling me with some sort of offer. Of course it’s probably to stand outside of our local Abercrombie and Fitch without a shirt on and hold shopping baskets for the customers or something equally as dumb. I probably did have to check in with them since they have me under contract.
“Um, sure. What time do you want me there?”
“How does 3:00 sound? Can you make it?”
“Sure. Thanks for calling. See you tomorrow.”
“No problem. See you tomorrow! Bye!”
I wasn’t sure what awaited me, but I knew tomorrow would give me at least some answers.
~ALM~
As I entered the studio the next day, my palms were sweaty. I don’t know why I was so nervous. This was never the plan. If it didn’t work out it’s not like it was the end of the world. But even still, I felt like I was shaking uncontrollably. I’m wasn’t, not really anyway, but I was a little jittery and nervous. Sarah greeted me and lead me back to a small, but comfortable office.
“So Edward, I bet you’re wondering what kind of offer I wanted to talk to you about. I usually don’t call the models in for offers until I know they’re interested, but I just had to have you here in person for this one.”
“Uh...okay.” I felt like I was stuttering again.
“Well, you see, I got a message from one of my contacts this morning and they are really very interested in working with you. This is kind of huge, Edward. Are you ready?”
“Sure?” I swallowed thickly, waiting for whatever news Sarah had for me. I couldn’t help but be cautiously excited because she seemed really pumped about whatever she has to tell me.
“It’s Ralph Lauren, Edward. They want to use you for their new campaign. Seriously. Ralph. Lauren. Do you know what that means?”
“Uh, not really. I’m not really sure what any of it means.”
“Edward, it means Laurant was right. You’re going to be huge!”
~ALM~
Turns out, Sarah had been right. For the next six years, I was one of the biggest faces of Ralph Lauren. I did fragrance ads, clothing ads, hell, I even did ads for comforters and shit. I made a ton of money. I traveled. I met a lot of really interesting people. I met even more totally uninteresting people. I felt like I was on top of the world. Then, at 24, they decided I was too “old” for the brand and didn’t renew my contract. I was too old for modeling period, not just for Ralph Lauren. So once again, I found myself looking at the next few years of my life with absolutely no idea where I was going to go.
I had declined my acceptance to the University of Chicago when I signed with Ralph Lauren, so there I was, 24 years old with just my high school diploma, a portfolio full of magazine ads, and no clue what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.
I’d been living mostly in New York while I worked for Ralph Lauren, and had traveled quite extensively, but now that my contract was over I’d decided to move back home. Apparently, Morgan Park Academy, my old high school, had also heard that I was back in Chicago. They called one day shortly after I’d moved back and asked if I’d be interested in coming to speak with the students about following your dreams and thinking big and all of that shit. Little did they know that modeling was never my “dream” and I hadn’t even thought about it at all until that fateful day at the mall. But, I didn’t really have anything else going on in my life right at the moment so I figured, what the hell? Why not?
Well the ‘why not’ part, as I found out, was that writing speeches was hard. I sat for huge lengths of time trying to figure out what to say to these kids who I was supposed to inspire. I couldn’t think of anywhere to start, let alone how I was going to fill forty-five minutes. Luckily, I knew what to do. I would turn to my good friend Google. Into the search bar, I typed “inspirational speeches” and started reading. I picked themes and tidbits from here and there, putting together something that sounded pretty damn impressive if I do say so myself. Besides, they’re high schoolers. How hard could they be to impress?
Jasper and Emmett both came with me for my appearance at the school, saying they thought it’d be fun to check out the old stomping grounds again. I’m pretty sure they just wanted to come watch me make a fool of myself.
The kids were pretty receptive to my talk and clapped and cheered when I was done. What surprised me more, however, was the reaction from the teachers. So many of them, teacher’s I’d had just a few years earlier, were asking me if I would be doing any more speaking engagements now that I was done modeling because they loved what I’d had to say. My response to this line of questioning was a series of “maybe”s and “we’ll see”s as I tried really hard to figure out what exactly I’d said that had them all falling all over each other, and fawning over me. I shook hands with Mr. Banner, my former principal, and he thanked me profusely for coming and handed me a check, signed by the school board, for $2000.
As I got in the car with Emmett and Jasper, I still couldn’t figure out exactly what had just happened. I’d been so nervous going into the speech because I really wasn’t sure what I was doing. I’d always made fun of the speakers they had come talk to us in high school, thinking how lame those idiots were, spouting off about ‘reaching for the stars’ and ‘following your dreams’ and all that hyped up bullshit. But now, I’d just done basically the same thing, and made $2000 for 45 minutes of work. Of course, at this point for me, $2000 was kind of a drop in the bucket, since Ralph Lauren paid some big money for me over the years, but still, overall it was fairly easy money.
We reached the apartment and Jasper joined me and Emmett inside. We decided we were going to order a pizza, drink some beer, and play some Xbox. As we went around stealing cars and picking up hookers in GTA: San Andreas* we got to talking about the day’s events and how stupid it is that people actually make a living doing that motivational speaking shit. I mean, seriously, I would never in a million years pay for a ticket to see some douche in a sweater vest and blazer with patches on the elbows tell me how to live a happier life. Mostly, I’d be much happier if I wasn’t listening to his bullshit, I’m sure.
Of course this conversation devolved into other speeches I could have given the kids, on topics ranging from how best to beat Grand Theft Auto, to how to give the perfect blow job. Of course, I know better, and I’d never actually do something like that in a school, but man, if those kids knew what was good for them they’d learn actual life skills like that quickly. Somehow, in the end, we were all a little drunk and spouting off the most ridiculous ‘inspirational’ quotes we could think of.
Turning to look me square in the eye, Jasper said to me, “Dude, I think we just found your next career move.”
“Shit, yes, that’s totally what you should do, it’d be awesome,” Emmett agreed, nodding his big-ass head.
“Oh man, I think you just might be right.”
~ALM~
Alice cleared her throat next to me, bringing me back to the here-and-now. I’ve got a show to do, and my public is waiting. This may have all started as a joke, but I certainly hope I don’t end up as one when they figure me out.
*Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas - Released in 2004
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A/N: Thanks for reading, and pretty please, leave us a review and let us know what you think!! We really do thrive on feedback. Chapters 2 and 3 are in the works so we hope to have you some more of these two very soon! Until next time!!
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