Fashion Victim Read online

  FASHION VICTIM

  Written by

  Kate William

  Created by

  FRANCINE PASCAL

  Copyright © 2015, Francine Pascal

  Elizabeth pushed down on the gas pedal, desperate to get away from the crazy driver. But like an evil shadow, the truck clung to the back of the Jeep. As they whipped around a sharp curve, tires squealing, he hit her again. The Jeep swerved dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

  Horrified, Elizabeth struggled to maintain control of the Jeep. Is he trying to run me off the road? her mind screamed. The answer became obvious as the truck slammed her again.

  "Hey, gorgeous!" the driver yelled to her. "Blow me a kiss!"

  Elizabeth held her breath as she pushed the gas pedal down all the way. Terrified, she fishtailed around the next sharp curve, her tires screeching. Before she managed to straighten out the wheel, the crazy truck bumped her again from behind. Elizabeth's heart jumped into her throat as the Jeep swerved close to the edge of the cliff—close enough for her to catch a glimpse of the shimmering blue water far below.

  Visit the Official Sweet Valley Web Site on the Internet at:

  http://www.sweetvalley.com

  To Anita Anastasi

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 1

  "Cameron, wait!" Jessica Wakefield pleaded as she watched the mirrored elevator doors slide shut, separating her from the guy she loved. She was left standing alone in the ninth-floor hallway of the Mode building, her heart sinking. What have I done? she asked herself.

  Silence surrounded her like a thick, suffocating cloud. Most of the employees who worked in the chic Los Angeles high-rise wouldn't be arriving for hours.

  Jessica had come in early, eager to catch a few minutes alone with her boss, Quentin Berg, to discuss the results of the photo shoot they'd done the previous day. Quentin was a world-famous fashion photographer, and even though Jessica was only a high-school intern, he'd allowed her to model for a very important fashion layout.

  Not that he had much choice, Jessica thought smugly. She'd worked hard to get herself into that shoot.

  Quentin had previously shot the layout the day before using Simone, a supermodel with a super-obnoxious personality, who also happened to be Quentin's former girlfriend. Part of Jessica's job—the worst part—was having to put up with Simone's temper tantrums and constant demands for French mineral water and raw vegetables.

  Jessica had taken the internship at Flair, the hottest new fashion magazine owned by the Mode Corporation, with only one thought in mind—to launch her modeling career. So yesterday, after Simone had left for the day, Jessica had discreetly opened Quentin's camera, exposing the film. There hadn't been time to call in another model, so Jessica had gladly stepped in to take Simone's place.

  Only a few minutes ago she'd been happy enough to touch the stars. Quentin had just told her that her photographs had received a thumbs-up from Flair's editorial board. Then he'd kissed her . . . at the very instant Cameron had walked into the studio!

  Jessica slumped against the cold marble wall next to the elevator and closed her eyes. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Talk about rotten timing! Jessica thought. Cameron Smith, who worked in the mail room, was one of the sweetest guys she'd ever met. He was also gorgeous—with curly brown hair, impressive muscles, and big brown eyes. Unfortunately he wasn't the world-famous photographer who could help her launch her career at Flair.

  Jessica opened her eyes and pressed her fists against the smooth fabric of her turquoise pants. Why did that jerk Quentin have to kiss me anyway? she fumed. Aside from being a talented photographer, Quentin was an egotistical creep. He probably thought any girl would be thrilled to kiss him.

  Fresh tears streamed down Jessica's cheeks as she recalled the expression of hurt and anger on Cameron's face as he'd gotten into the elevator. His features had appeared as if they'd been cut from stone, and his brown eyes had been glassy and cold. His parting words rang her in her ears: It's over, Jessica. No more chances. The memory felt like a hot knife tearing through her heart.

  Jessica pressed her fists against her eyes. Why can't Cameron understand how important my career is? she wondered bitterly.

  Jessica knew most people—even some of her teachers at Sweet Valley High—assumed that she wasn't serious about her future, that all she cared about were boys, shopping, and cheerleading. They seemed to think that her identical twin, Elizabeth, had inherited all the genes for logical thinking, maturity, and hard work.

  But they were wrong. Granted, Elizabeth was clearly the more serious-minded twin. Older by four minutes, she was hardworking and reliable. She got straight A's in school, kept her room impeccably neat, and always remembered to do her chores around the house.

  Elizabeth hoped to become a professional writer someday and spent most of her free time writing for the Oracle, Sweet Valley High's student newspaper. Her idea of "fun" was to curl up with a book, organize her closet, or hang out with her boring friends, Enid Rollins and Maria Slater.

  A bright spot in her sisters life—in Jessica's opinion—was Elizabeth's recent breakup with Todd Wilkins, one of the dullest guys in Sweet Valley. He'd started modeling for Quentin and was now dating Simone, but that didn't change Jessicas opinion of him. OK, yes, Todd was handsome, Jessica had to admit that. But he was still as boring as dry toast. She only wished Elizabeth would hurry up and get over him.

  The differences between Jessica and Elizabeth were enormous, despite their identical appearance. They both had clear blue-green eyes, silky blond hair, and slim, athletic figures. In the past Elizabeth had usually worn her hair in a ponytail or braid, while Jessica had preferred to leave hers loose. But now even that small distinction was gone. Both sisters had recently gotten their hair cut to shoulder length, angled longer in front for a more stylish, modern look.

  Jessica believed in living life to the fullest. Wild colors and loud music suited her best. Each day was a great adventure and much too precious to waste worrying about schoolwork. As long as her grades were high enough to maintain her position as co-captain on the cheerleading squad, she was satisfied.

  Compared to her sister, Jessica hardly fit the image of a serious, ambitious, and intelligent sixteen-year-old girl—but that's exactly what she was. She dreamed of becoming a glamorous celebrity someday, and she was just as determined as her twin to achieve success.

  Jessica sniffed and stood in front of the elevator. Pushing back her hair from her damp face, she stared at her reflection in mirrored door panel. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. I'm a mess! she thought.

  Jessica dabbed her fingertips under her eyes, careful not to mess up her makeup. She'd carefully selected her outfit that morning—slim-fitting, turquoise satin pants with a matching tunic and a pair of funky seventies-style platform sandals. The look was designed to make her appear taller. Jessica realized her height of five feet, six inches, was the biggest obstacle to her career since successful fashion models were closer to six feet tall.

  I'm going to make it anyway, Jessica vowed. I'll do whatever it takes. Her internship would end in a few days, and she wasn't about to leave without achieving a strong foothold in the business.

  But a small voice in her head asked doubtfully, Even if it means giving up love? Jessica groaned to herself. She would just have to find a way to make it up to Cameron, to make him understand that she wasn't interested in Quentin at all.

  Jessica stiffened as she heard footsteps coming down the hall. She knew it was Quentin by the distinct sound of his designer boots. Forcing her attention back to the present, she put on a cheerful smile and turned to face her boss.

  In his early twenties, Quentin Berg was tall, with broad shoulders, mysterious gray eyes, and shaggy, reddish blond hair. As usual he was wearing faded jeans, today topped with a black T-shirt and a pale khaki vest. Jessica considered him fairly good-looking in a rumpled artist sort of way. Too bad he was a totally conceited jerk.

  "What was that all about?" Quentin asked, his light brown eyebrows raised in question.

  Jessica swallowed hard. "It was nothing," she lied. "The mail-room guy was just upset because I forgot to put a return address on a package."

  Quentin smirked. "What a loser."

  Seeing the smug expression on Quentin's face, Jessica was tempted to tell him the truth—that kissing him was the biggest mistake of her life. Then she remembered the photo shoot . . . and the fact that he might use her for another layout. She felt torn. She didn't want to blow her chances with Quentin, but her heart ached over what had happened with Cameron.

  "Guys like that don't understand how meaningless their jobs are," Quentin said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I could have him fired, but what's the use? Another loser would just come along and take his place."

  Jessica nodded, pretending to agree. But inside she knew Cameron was anything but a loser. She vowed to herself that as soon as her career took off, she'd drop Quentin and concentrate on getting Cameron back into her life. But until that time Jessica was stuck with the number one creep of the fashion-photography field.

  "So Quentin," Jessica began, hugging his arm as they walked back toward the studio, "when is
my next shoot?"

  Quentin chuckled. "I'll have to think about it."

  "What's to think about?" Jessica asked, batting her eyelashes up at him.

  "I'm not sure you're ready for a full-fledged modeling career," he told her. "The fashion world is rough, Jessica. Modeling is more than a job—it's a lifestyle. We're talking lots of hard work . . . total commitment, with cutthroat competition every step of the way."

  They'd reached the studio and were standing in the doorway, facing each other. "I know all that," Jessica insisted. "Believe me, I'm not afraid of hard work, and I'm one hundred percent committed. I know I have what it takes to make it as a supermodel."

  Quentin gave her a long, measuring look. "Maybe you do." Then he pushed open the studio door and went in.

  "I definitely do," Jessica countered as she followed him through the main area of the studio, a huge, cavernous room strewn with ladders, lighting fixtures, small tables, and various props. "As a matter of fact, I think I'd be great in the swimsuit layout we're shooting tomorrow," she declared, even though she knew Simone had already been lined up for the job.

  Quentin stopped at the door of his private office, one of the smaller rooms off the main area, and turned to Jessica. "You're certainly ambitious," he said, chuckling.

  You have no idea how ambitious, Jessica thought wryly. She wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted. By taking advantage of every opportunity that came along, Jessica created her own good luck. She was determined to move in on Simone's position as a top supermodel—no matter what it took. I'll even suck up to a total jerk if I have to! Jessica thought.

  Jessica stepped closer and gently placed her hand on Quentin's elbow. "I'm a lot easier to work with than . . . some models. More fun too," she added suggestively, trailing her fingers up his arm.

  Quentin stared at her hand, then at her. "You're something else," he said wryly.

  "How sweet of you to notice." Jessica draped her arms over his shoulders and flashed him a saucy grin.

  Quentin leaned back, as if to put distance between them, but at the same time brought his hands up to frame the sides of her face. "What's going on here, Jessica? A few minutes ago I got the distinct impression you weren't interested in this sort of . . . extracurricular activity."

  Jessica shrugged. "You caught me off guard, that's all."

  "I see," he whispered, moving in for a slow, smooth kiss. Jessica closed her eyes, willing herself to respond as much as she could—or at least not to recoil from him.

  When the kiss finally ended, Jessica exhaled with relief. "I should start getting the sets ready," she offered, looking for an excuse to avoid another kiss.

  Quentin winked, obviously unaware of how she really felt about him. "If you're going to be a fashion model, we're going to have to work on your image . . . get you seen in the right places, with the right people." He paused. "I'm going to take you to the Edge tonight. That place is always good for a photo op."

  A flash of excitement shot through her. The Edge was a very exclusive hot new techno club in downtown L.A.

  "I'll pick you up at nine," Quentin said. "Be ready." Abruptly dropping the subject, he glanced at his watch and let out a low whistle. "Time's flying, babe," he said, snapping his fingers. "I'll be in the darkroom for a few hours. If Gordon Lewis calls, put him through. Otherwise take messages. There's a list of supplies we need on my desk. . . ."

  Lost in her thoughts, Jessica nodded absently as Quentin barked out a few more orders. Excitement surged through her like electricity. A photo op with a world-famous fashion photographer and my very own layout . . . I'm about to become a bona fide supermodel! she mentally cheered.

  Sitting at her desk in her bedroom, Elizabeth pushed up the sleeves of her pale blue sweater as she reread the last few sentences on her computer screen. This plan just might work! she thought, pleased with what she'd written. Her internship at Flair had turned out to be a disaster, but she was ready to fight back. At lunch the previous day she and her friend Reggie Andrews, an assistant fashion editor at Flair, had come up with an idea to help Elizabeth get revenge for the terrible way she'd been treated during her internship.

  Elizabeth hit the command to print the document, then stretched her arms high over her head. Her neck, shoulders, and back felt painfully stiff. She glanced at her wristwatch and was surprised to discover that it was nearly four-thirty in the afternoon. She'd been sitting at her desk since early that morning, totally absorbed in her writing.

  Elizabeth got up and began pacing across her room. As part of a new career-education program, Sweet Valley High students had been given the opportunity to work as interns during the school's two-week miniterm. Elizabeth had been thrilled to land a position in the editorial department of Flair.

  From the start she had given her all to her work, putting in extra hours and sacrificing her personal life when necessary. Although many of her assignments had been dull, routine chores such as filing and opening the mail—"scum work," her boss had called it—Elizabeth had also been allowed to do some higher-level tasks. She'd proofread articles, drafted a letter to a writer, and researched various topics. She'd felt driven to prove herself capable to her boss, Leona Peirson, whom she'd idolized.

  Leona had appeared to be exactly the land of woman Elizabeth hoped to become someday—bright, ambitious, energetic, and assertive. Her respect had meant everything to Elizabeth. When Leona had implied that her look could use some improvement, Elizabeth had dipped into her savings for a fashion makeover.

  Besides all that, Leona had often encouraged her to share her thoughts and ideas for the magazine. Elizabeth had been determined to come up with at least one brilliant idea during her internship, something that would really impress her boss.

  She had put together a proposal for a new column to be written exclusively by Flair readers. But Leona had treated Elizabeth's hard work as if it were nothing more than a toddler's scribbled crayon drawing.

  And then, to top it all off, Elizabeth had been devastated to discover that Leona was planning to propose the new column to the publisher, Gordon Lewis, and Flair's editorial board as her own idea!

  I wish I'd listened to Reggie sooner, Elizabeth reflected. Her friend had tried to warn her about Leona's true nature—nasty.

  Elizabeth stopped pacing and sat down on her bed, drawing her knees up to her chin. Leona was a cold-blooded snake. But even if Elizabeth did manage to get back at her—then what? My life still won't be perfect . . . or even as good as it used to be, she realized dejectedly. She pressed her forehead against the soft fabric of her faded blue jeans. She knew she couldn't blame all her problems on Leona Peirson.

  Elizabeth's own self-centered ambition had caused her to sacrifice her relationship with her two best friends, Enid Rollins and Maria Slater. Her boyfriend, Todd, had started getting resentful because she didn't have any time to see him. And he'd walked out of her life after he'd been "discovered" by Quentin Berg. Now he was working as a fashion model—and dating one. Elizabeth groaned as she remembered the time when she'd walked in on Todd kissing Simone in the photography studio at the Mode building. The memory sent a sharp pain right into the pit of her stomach.

  Elizabeth lifted her head and pushed her hair back from her face. She needed her friends more than ever. Although Reggie would certainly be a sympathetic listener, Elizabeth didn't think she'd understand. Reggie was much older—in her twenties. And she didn't know Todd. Elizabeth longed to share her sorrow with Maria and Enid, her best friends in the world. She knew that having them around would make everything seem . . . less horrible.

  I've been such a jerk, she told herself, her heart sinking as she remembered how badly she'd treated them. Elizabeth now realized that some things were more important than getting ahead in the business world. She wondered if they'd ever forgive her.

  "I'm going to find out right now," she resolved, reaching for the telephone next to her bed. Just as she was trying to figure out what she would say to them, she heard a soft knock on the door.

  Assuming it was her mother or father, Elizabeth softly answered, "Come in." The door opened, and Elizabeth's jaw dropped.

  Enid and Maria were standing in the doorway, each holding a small paper bag. Elizabeth stared at them, speechless . . . and incredibly happy.