Charlotte and her Mum walked into the Elite modeling agency at 9am on a Friday morning. She had called in sick to school, grateful her mother had let her.  She had one of her favorite outfits on: a black, A-line pencil skirt that went to the knee, black flats, and a lady-like white satin blouse. Her long auburn hair was loose, and curled at the ends. She tried to appear mature and professional, but inside, her stomach was doing cartwheels.

           

They were led inside a large office, with floor to ceiling windows that gave a beautiful view of Piccadilly Circus. A woman in her late-forties, with a perfect, glossy black bob complemented by creamy, olive skin stood up from the chair at her desk and extended her hand to Charlotte, and then her Mother.

 

“Hello, I’m Rosalie Adams, President of the Elite Modeling Agency.”

 

“Pleased to meet you” Charlotte could barely get the words out of her mouth.

 

“Wow, you are quite a beauty, how old did you say you were?” Rosalie said, as she looked at Charlotte’s face.

 

“15 Ma’am.”

 

“Great! I’ll have my colleagues come in and get your measurements, okay?”

 

“Okay sure!”

 

A small crowd of people, men and women came in, with measuring tapes and notebooks in hand. They led Charlotte to a small platform, where they critiqued her from head to toe and then had her stand on a scale.

 

“Okay, measurements: 31-22-23. Height: 5’7”, Weight, 115.”

                       

“You are quite tiny my dear!” Rosalie said

                       

“Yes, well I haven’t quite matured that much” Charlotte said apologetically

                       

“Oh no dear, its fine! Really! The sample clothes will just have to be tailored, you are very young and haven’t grown yet!” Rosalie was warm, and motherly.

           

The crowd left, and Rosalie sat down at her desk, motioning Charlotte to sit as well.

                       

“Okay, my verdict? Your perfect, and I see big things in your future my darling! I want to start you off today, so I’m going to send you to our modeling coach to get you started. “

                       

“Really? That’s fantastic! What will I be doing?”

                       

“To start off, editorials, advertisements, and eventually high fashion editorials, and a major campaign. First off, makeover time!”

 

Charlotte’s heart stopped. Makeover? That meant they would touch her precious hair! All for fame she thought.

 

            ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She was ushered to a large salon that was next to the agency, and handled all of the agency’s girls. It was called Vidal Sassoon. The man himself came out, and gave her a smock to wear. Charlotte’s new modeling coach, Richard was standing next to him.

 

“Beautiful girl, needs grooming though. Too teenage-ish”

 

“Yes, well Mr. Sassoon, do your magic!”

 

“First things first, cut the hair. I want it short, and I mean short. Also, it’s too Irish. Yes, lovely paddy red, but I want a light yellow, something that will jump from the pages. “

 

“But Sir, I am Irish.”

 

“And there’s nothing wrong with that sweetheart, it’s just not that cutting edge right now. We all must make sacrifices in the name of fashion.” Richard added

 

 

And five hours later, Charlotte was a new woman.  She returned to school the next day, and she got stares from everyone at school. Her self-esteem plummeted, and she retreated to her best friend, Peter’s, locker. He was the ultimate mod, and very handsome to boot.

 

“Pete, I need to get out tonight, anyplace good you’d suggest?”

 

“Okay, I’ve got the goods on a great place near by. On Oxford Street, in London. Called the Marquee, the hottest bands play there. Great blues club. We’ll go tonight, be ready at 9.”

 

Charlotte had no problem with getting out, she was so well behaved and basically perfect, that her parents let her do whatever she wanted. So by 9, she was waiting in the large foyer of her parent’s Tudor. The doorbell rang, it was Pete, and he was decked out perfectly, and so was Charlotte. With her new haircut, she looked at least 17. They hoped on Pete’s Lambretta scooter and rode to the club. When they parked, Charlotte could hear the muffled sounds of blues music coming from the club. It was a little brick building, sandwiched between a record store and a delicatessen. They walked in together, but Pete saw some friends waving to him from in front of the stage.

 

“I’m going to go talk to some friends, get us a table, love.”

 

“Okay.” Charlotte sat down at a table. She wasn’t used to places like this, all grotty and smokey. But she loved blues music so much, it was worth it. She scanned the room of blues aficionados, only to be drawn to a gorgeous creature. He wasn’t very tall, at her guess, only about 5’8 or so. He was also very, very thin. His golden blond hair was in a short Beatle crop, but a bit messy. He wore a white oxford shirt, the first few top buttons undone, with a skinny black tie and black trousers. He looked like something out of a Jack Kerouac book. Poetic, a messy beatnik with an intense look in his eye.  He was holding a brandy, and smiling away while talking to an older fellow, a white man with a crazed Afro. Before she knew it, the stranger had met eyes with her. She quickly turned away, as her favorite song, “Boom Boom” by John Lee Hooker came on the speakers.  

 

“This seat taken?” She heard a soft, whispery voice ask her.

 

“Um, well” She looked up to see the blonde mystery man standing by her table.