Sweet Serendipity

Junior walked up and down the row of men, inspecting each one carefully. He only picked the best to model his clothing before, and nothing was changing now. He had already picked four our of the ten that were there and the remaining six were all hoping to be that last pick.

It was an honor to model Junior Davis. He was one of the best designers out there, and he did solely men's clothing.

He stopped at one particular young man, shoulder length brown hair and green eyes that sparkled with the life and energy that surged through the lithe body he possessed. "Take off your shirt," he instructed him. If his abs fit the bill, he was to be the final pick for his newest line of clothing named Deluxx.

John nodded and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his godlike abs. John had modeled for the best in the world. Armani, to Abercrombie to Gucci, to Louis Vouitton and Calvin Klein. The only reason he left was that John was always looking for the next best thing. He heard of this new guy, Junior Davis and decided his cloths were definitely worth modeling.

He dropped his shirt and let Junior inspect his perfectly sculpted body. He worked out a lot, dieted and always kept himself in shape. It was no wonder he was a world famous model.

Junior's eyes roamed John's exposed body. He definitely had all the right assets. He ran his finger along John's abs, the skin warm and velvety. He was and defined, but not all muscle. He was lean, but his body was pure strength, something Junior knew a lot about. He smiled and looked at him. "You're it," he said and stepped back. "The rest of you, dismissed. You are not needed."

The other 5 left, upset that they weren't able to model Junior Davis. A lot of designers - Marc Anthony, Louis Vuitton, Calvin Klein - didn't handpick their models because they didn't understand that you need the right model to make your clothes look the best they could Junior understood. And he never went to college for design.

John smiled slightly. He had always been personally asked by other designers to model their clothing. He knew he'd be in. He was upset thay hadn't been chosen first, but he shrigged the thought off.

One major reason why he left a couple designers, like McQueen, was that they starved their models. He hoped this would be differant. He looked at Junior, waiting for his mext instructions.

Junior sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up. "I don't know why you're still here. You're picked. You can go... do whatever you models do," he said as he pulled out his sketchbook so he could continue sketching his new designs.

The thing was, he was lost. He didn't know what to do for his next line Flashed. He knew the idea, but he didn't know what to do for the clothes. He just couldn't think of anything. For the first time in years, he wasn't inspired. Maybe it was because he had been feeling lonely lately. He shrugged. Nah, that wasn't it.

John shook his head. "Newbies..." He chuckled and left the office. When new models were chosen, their measurememts were supposed to be taken in the same day as the casting call. John knew this buissness, and had seen a hundred Juniors. Designers who thought they were hot shit because of either their family, or they were too confident of their skill.

The kid'll learn. John thought to him self as he lit a cigarette outside the building.

Junior sighed, running a hand through his hair. He seriously needed to come up with some new designs. He was thinking of changing the name, too. And having some of the outfits be green and brown. Though, he didn't know why. He shrugged it off and but the sketchbook away, grabbing his keys and his wallet, locking his office and heading outside.

He didn't notice John as he walked over to his 458 Italia Ferrari. He unlocked it and got in, sighing at the comfort of the satin seats.

John glanced Junior ad he smoked. Fashion Week was in three weeks. He had better be ready. He put out his cigarette got into his Audi R8, driving to a club to meet up and party with a few other models.

Junior drove to the club as well, though he went straight to the VIP section overlooking the club. He ordered a drink and sat on the comfortable couch that was right next to the window. He watched all the people dance, though his eyes immediately found John. Something about that man made Junior always look at him.

John amd the other models laughed and dranks. It was better tgey thought, than being isolated in the VIP section like a loner. He and other models always talked about their bosses.
"He forgot to measure us! This kid will learn the hard way." John laughed as he downed a drink.
Cody nodded and laughed along. "Damn straight he will."

Junior sighed as he watched them and drank his vodka and redbull. He knew what he was doing. This wasn't his first show, damn sure wasn't his last. He was different from the other designers. He didn't measure the models the day he picked them because the show wasn't for three weeks. Next week, everything would be taken care of. People shouldn't be so quick to judge him by his age and looks.

Cody looked at Junior in the VIP section and back at John. "Go ask him to join us. He looks lonely."
John rolled his eyes. "Fine." He huffed and went to the VIP section. The guard looked over John and instantly let him in. John went over to Junior. "Come join us. Don't be such a loner." He said over the loud music with a smile.

"I'll pass," Junior said, not even looking at him. He didn't take well to pity, nor disrespect. His anger was a touchy thing. Say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, you were going to hate yourself. Especially if you were supposed to model. Disrespect him and he would kick you out without a second thought.

John raised a brow. Snob...He thought and led Junior to the other models. John downed a few more drinks. He needed it now that Junior was here. He wasn't very social, which caused a bit of awkwardness.

Junior didn't move from his spot by the window. "I don't know what you don't understand about the word no, but it's the opposite of yes, which is what you assume my answer is. And when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me," he said, taking a small sip of his drink.

"I'd rather make an ass out of myself, than be an asshole. Because that's what you are. An immature asshole who thinks he's hot shit. You think you know what your doing, well you don't. You really don't. The pre-show is in two days and you haven't put us in any cloths. I can tell you right now, your models hate you. They may be honored to model for you, but the feel the same way I do. And when your models aren't happy, they make your cloths look like shit. I've modeled for the best in the world, so maybe you should step up to the plate." John hissed, crossing his arms.

Junior chuckled. "You aren't going to get a rise out of me because you're a prissy ass bitch who doesn't know that there are different ways to do things. I know exactly what I'm doing. I've done this show before you, I'll do it after you. You're opinion couldn't mean less to me than it does now. I've made it in this business by loving what I do and not taking shit from other who think they're hot shit. So you can start respecting me, or you can go to another designer. You're honestly the least of my problems. Thousands of people want to be in your shoes. You're simple replaceable and if I must, I will," he said calmly, taking another sip of is drink.

John growled and snatched Junior's drink, dumping it over his head. "Replace me. Dior, Calvin Klein, or Dries Van Noten will gladly have me back." He spat, not mentioning Alexander McQueen for a specific reason.

Junior froze. "You just made your life hell. Security, take him away," he said, shaking his head a bit as the guards took him away. Junior would make sure that John regretted what he just did. And he knew the right man for the job. He smirked as he got up and left the club, getting his Ferrari and driving home. He would make the call in the morning.

John shrugged away security. "I can find my way out." He huffed and walked out of the club, going to his Audi and driving to his condo. The next morning, he was called to Junior's office. "What do you want?" He asked, crossing his arms, having no idea where he was going to be sent.

"I made a few calls, talked to a few friends. Seems like Dior, Calvin Klein, Luis Vuitton, Dries Van Noten, they all have all they need. But Alexander McQueen, he needs one more model. I told him I had one that I no longer needed. He thanked me, so that's where you're going. Have a nice time. Goodbye," he said, going back to his drawings.

John's face paled a little. "McQueen? But he's..." He trailed off and shook his head, knowing Junior could care less. He stormed out of the office, tears threatening t spill over. He knew McQueen. he would starve John, slap him if his walk wasn't right, force him into cloths that cut off his circulation... but he had no choice.

Junior rolled his eyes. "All models are fucking divas. If they weren't so important to my work, I wouldn't deal with them at all, what-so-ever," he mumbled as he began sketching a new outfit.

John looked down as he was sent to McQueen's office when he arrived to the building. "You wanted to see me, McQueen?" He said quietly, looking down.

Alexander looked at him. "Ah, Jonathan. Long time. Well, you know the drill. Go get your measurements and such, watch what you eat. I'll be keeping a close on you. Last time, you got very rowdy. I asked Junior who he was sending to me. Told me some 'prissy diva bitch' - his words, not mine - and I just went along. That boy has got a temper that should not be messed with."