The Modeliser Read Online Free

day and the sun already shone over London, with the
weather forecast promising a fine summer day. As she passed the hallway mirror,
Talia sighed as she caught a glimpse of her deep brown hair, which was already
drying in untidy curls around her face, so much for the sleek look she’d hoped
to present for the meeting that afternoon. Her eyes darted to the clock; she’d
probably miss the train anyway, she might as well take the time to tame her
hair. Decision made, Talia allowed her battered workbag, an ageing leather
satchel, to drop to the floor and she made her way into her room, grabbing the
hairdryer. As she vigorously dried her hair, a man emerged from Nina’s bedroom.
Talia was relieved to see that he was dressed; they weren’t always. The man was
heading out but he stopped as he spotted Talia through her open bedroom door.
    “Hi,” Talia nodded at him, surprised that she actually
recognised him. In the seven months she’d lived with Nina, she’d gained a
breezy insouciance in dealing with strange men who never made a repeat
appearance but this one, Javier, had been around several times in the last few
weeks. If any man could make Nina give up her life of one-night stands, she
supposed this was a pretty fine choice. He was tall, around 6ft, she guessed
and could very well be in the dictionary next to the description for tall, dark
and handsome.
    “Good Morning Talia,” he smiled at her as he spoke, his voice
deep with an accented inflexion that hinted at his Cuban roots.   “Good party last night?”
    Talia nodded. “I didn’t wake you when I came in, did I?” She
felt a moment of guilt, perhaps she’d been less than considerate when she’d
tottered in, unsteady in her heels.
    “Of course not. It’s good to have some fun, no?” Javier
smiled, “I’ll see you later,” he said as he moved to the front door.
    She watched him go with a small twinge of irritation. Why did
everybody think that she didn’t have any fun? She heard the front door open and
close and she continued briskly straightening her hair till it framed her face.
Digging into her bag, which was heavy with scripts, rehearsal drafts and story
documents, Talia pulled out her battered make up bag, the same one she’d
carried for years, most of the make up contained in it hadn’t been changed in
ages. She dabbed on some foundation and followed that with a dash of bronze eye
shadow, an unevenly drawn line of black across her lids and then she pouted
into the mirror as she layered a thick gloop of gloss on her lips. Talia smiled
at the effect, it was rare for her to take the time to wear make up and she’d
always thought that one day she would like to take a make up class and learn to
apply it properly. After all the sacrifices she’d made to make it as a
storyliner and cross over to writing, perhaps now she might get the chance to
take that make up class, or do yoga – maybe, she’d finally do all those
things she’d been meaning to do the last few years. Talia smiled a rueful
smile; she wasn’t fooling herself. She was a workaholic, always had been.
Whatever she turned her mind to had always consumed her. She glanced again at
her watch, still a few minutes before she had to leave home to catch the next
train to the studios. It was a sunny morning and she decided to walk slowly and
grab a coffee on the way to the station. Just then Nina’s door opened once
again.
    Oomph! Before Talia could say anything she was enveloped in a
hug from Nina.
    “Morning Tal.” Slowly Talia untangled herself from the
embrace. She looked into her roommate’s face looking for some sign that might
explain this utterly uncharacteristic display of affection.
    “What’s wrong?” She asked. Nina laughed, that deep dirty
laugh that wouldn’t be out of place in a smoky club but which in broad daylight
always seemed slightly indecent and rather too filthy for company.
    “Silly, nothing’s wrong,” Nina said as she took Talia by the
arm and walked her to