Breaking the Rules

‘Yes. Would you like me to go and put them on?’

‘No, not for the moment. Agnes is going to copy this hairstyle here.’ He turned to the stylist, said in a firmer voice, ‘You must cut the front, though, because I want M to have bangs, and copy this upswept look, please. It’s a very elegant Audrey here … this photo is from Roman Holiday, I believe.’

‘But …’ Agnes began, and stopped when she saw the adamant expression on Frankie’s face. She had worked with him for years and knew when to stop arguing with him.

‘Bangs okay with you, M?’ he asked. He took the book from her, found the picture he wanted, then handed it back to M, pointing his first finger at a page.

‘Bangs are okay, very okay with me,’ M responded, and stared down at the book, then smiled at Agnes. ‘Let’s do it, shall we?’

Placing a cotton cape around M’s shoulders, Agnes picked up her most expensive scissors, took a deep breath and began to cut M’s hair at the front, creating the bangs Frankie insisted on.

M sat back in the chair, watching Agnes work, saying nothing, secretly loving the idea of becoming an Audrey Hepburn look-alike. That really was genuine reinvention, and then some. She smiled inwardly, wondering why she hadn’t thought of this herself. God knows her brothers had often teased her about having such a marked resemblance to the famous actress.

Frankie announced, ‘I’ll leave you to it, Agnes, and when Marguerite arrives I’ll send her in immediately.’ Resting one hand on M’s shoulder, he added, ‘Marguerite is another genius, and between Agnes and her they will turn you into the woman in these pictures. You’ll be the image of the real thing, par excellence.’

SEVEN (#ulink_3aadf542-da42-5118-bd88-9b3834c64d7b)

‘Wow!’ a male voice exclaimed in a soft but awed voice from the shadows at the back of the main studio. Finally walking out into the bright light, the man added, ‘Wow! Wow! Wow!’ and stopped just a few feet away from Frankie, who was in the process of photographing M seated on a tall stool.

‘Hey, Luke!’ Frankie cried, as he swung around and saw his friend. ‘You’re right, she is a wow, wow, wow, isn’t she?’

Instead of responding to Frankie, Luke looked at M and addressed her instead. ‘You certainly are spectacular, just as you were in Breakfast at Tiffany’s – you looked exactly as you do today.’ He shook his head, a wide grin spreading across his handsome face. ‘Of course I know you couldn’t possibly be Audrey, but you certainly could be her twin. So what’s your real name?’

M started to answer him, but Frankie cut across her. ‘This is M, Luke. She’s known simply as M, and she’s my new discovery. I’m going to launch her modelling career, yes indeedy, and I have big plans for her. I know what I’m seeing through this lens. And it’s something sensational.’

‘Congratulations, Frankie,’ Luke responded, and then walked towards M, his hand outstretched.

As they shook hands, the two of them sized each other up.

M found herself looking into a pair of light grey eyes set in a rather puckish face, one which appeared to be full of merriment, and with his short curly blond hair and slight build he reminded her of a choir boy, though perhaps a rather devilish one.

For his part, Luke was captivated by the young woman, dressed in the black sheath and wearing tons of pearls and sparkling drop earrings. A few minutes ago he had been talking to Agnes and Marguerite in the hair and makeup room, and both women had told him how Frankie had instructed them to play up M’s striking resemblance to the late movie star. There was no question that they had done a truly magnificent job. This young woman was stunning, but he knew she would be even if she weren’t an Audrey lookalike.

‘I’m happy to meet you, Luke,’ M finally said.

Luke cleared his throat, suddenly realizing he was gaping at her like a silly, dumbstruck schoolboy. ‘Me, too, er, what I mean is, I’m glad to meet you. You’re English?’

‘Yes, I am, but I’m living here now. I came over about three months ago.’ As she spoke, she gently extricated her hand from his tight clasp.

‘If you need someone to show you around Manhattan, need anything at all, I’d be glad to help you. Just let me know.’ He took out a business card and handed it to her.

‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at him.

‘Hey, hey, hey, not so fast, Luke, my boy! No poaching my talent. After all, I discovered her. And M’s going to be working for me exclusively.’

‘I was merely volunteering to be a friend.’

‘I know, Luke, I know.’ Stepping closer to the younger man, Frankie said in a lower tone, ‘Thanks for coming in to help with the ad agency shoot. The models are here, already changing before they go into hair and makeup. We’ll start shooting in about forty minutes or so, because I do want to finish up with M, need to do a few more shots.’

Luke nodded. ‘Are we shooting in this studio? Or one of the others?’

‘The big one at the back. The scenery’s already set up for the first session, and I’m sure Ted is in there already, looking at the new backdrops that came in last week. Why don’t you go and introduce yourself, and have a few words with him? He’s a nice guy, genuine, and he’s been throwing a lotta work my way lately.’

‘Okay,’ Luke responded, giving a wave to M and hurrying off, fully aware that Frankie preferred to shoot without spectators, unless it was a ‘civilian’ like Ted Langton, or some other friendly agency guy. Even he himself was only tolerated when he was actually working for Frankie as his first assistant, otherwise he was forbidden to enter just like the others.

Once they were alone, Frankie explained, ‘Luke’s one of my protégés, and he’s already on the way to becoming a great photographer. He’s got a small studio of his own, and has a couple of regular clients, but I give him as much work as I can. I want to help him get ahead.’

‘That’s nice of you, Frankie,’ M said, meaning it. She and her siblings had been brought up to be helpful to others; it was one of the family rules.

‘I’ve always believed that everyone is worth helping, and most especially if they have potential, and talent.’ Frankie put down his camera and walked over to her, studied her for a moment. ‘I think you should take off all the pearls, M, and the long earrings for the next few shots. I’d like you to look simpler. Your hair is fine, but Marguerite needs to powder you down. I’ll go and get her.’

Before she could volunteer to go to hair and makeup herself, Frankie had hurried down to the far end of the studio where this room was located.

In his absence, M walked over to a trestle table, took off the many strings of pearls he had draped around her neck earlier, and the earrings as well. She placed them in one of the boxes that contained costume jewellery; in the others were artificial flowers, small kerchiefs and ribbons, all kinds of accessories. On the spur of the moment she took out a piece of black velvet ribbon, went over to the mirror on the wall behind the trestle table, and tied the ribbon round her neck. Standing back, she eyed herself.

M was thrilled and excited that Frankie Farantino had liked her, had seen something so special in her that he had spent so much time photographing her. She realized that this might be the break she had been waiting for. Perhaps Lady Luck was with her today. She suddenly thought of her big brother, who always gave such credit to Lady Luck, and decided he would have been proud of the way she had worked this afternoon. He had instilled one thing in her: be professional.

As M turned and walked back to the centre of the studio, Frankie reappeared with Marguerite in tow, the latter carrying her basket filled with the tools of her trade.

‘According to Frankie, you need a touch-up,’ the makeup artist said, smiling at her, peering at her face appraisingly. Marguerite took out a damp sponge, went over her face with it, patted her dry with a tissue, dipped a brush in powder and flicked it over her cheeks. ‘You’re not as shiny as I expected. Now all we need is a little blush on top of the powder, and you’re ready. Your eyes are fine, M, they don’t need anything.’ Marguerite finished her work, stepped back and said, ‘You’ve weathered the hot lights very well.’

‘Thanks, Marguerite,’ M answered and went back to the middle of the floor, sat down on the stool.

Frankie, who was busy reloading film, looked across at her and exclaimed, ‘The ribbon looks great, honey, and that’s all you need.’

He photographed her for another twenty minutes, moving around her, taking shots of her from different angles, praising her, telling her to hold a certain pose, until he finally had everything he wanted.

‘That’s it, M. At least for today. And you’ve been a great subject. You know what: you’re good at this, honey.’

‘And thank you, Frankie. Actually, I’ve enjoyed it,’ she told him. Walking across to him, she now asked, ‘Did you mean it when you told Luke you were going to launch my modelling career?’

He was taking the film out of his camera and he glanced up, nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘I’m so pleased about that! So, where do we go from here? What happens next?’ she asked, her excitement reflected on her face.

‘I have to start using you in some of my fashion shoots for the magazines. That’s how we’ll begin.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘Not for a few weeks,’ Frankie murmured, putting the camera down on a table. ‘I have to go to Morocco on Monday, to do a fashion spread for Harper’s Bazaar.’

M nodded, gave him a quizzical look. ‘So when should I plan on being here, Frankie? When will you need me?’

‘I’ll have to let you know. You see I’ll be in Morocco for a while, honey – it’s a big spread, time consuming.’

‘And there’s no way you could include me in that?’ she asked, her eyes riveted on him.

He shook his head. ‘No, the models have all been selected. In fact, some are already on their way over there.’