LU Chapter 9

# Chapter Nine - "A Unique Opportunity"

### Junko

    Once our private audience with Ms. Rossi had completed and nearly everyone had their strongly suggested itinerary for today, it seemed that one more surprise was still waiting specifically for me.

    "Miss… Junko, please remain behind for a moment. There's something further I wish to discuss with you privately."

    I watched as my friends exited the room ahead of me. Akira gave me an awkward look and a shrug on her way out. Meeting with the boss unexpectedly all alone is seldom a good thing, is it? It feels a lot like getting told to stay behind after class, then being told to stay again once all the other troublemakers were let go.

    Is this detention?

    Can you get work detention?

    I'm much more used to my producer kicking me *out of her office*, rather than wanting to spend even more time with me. Rinko and Eimi seemed to think nothing of it though, walking off to their next stations without so much as a glance, leaving me behind to face my fate alone. So, how bad could it be?

    Et tu, Rinko?

    "Come closer, please, if you would. I'd like to get a better look at you." I walked a full four chairs closer to the head of the table, and Ms. Rossi further beckoned me to come even behind the imaginary line created by the furthest edge of the conference table. "Ms. Nanasawa, would you please leave us as well?"

    "Ms. Rossi? Are you sure?" The aide nervously looked at her boss, shrugging and standing up when elaboration wasn't forthcoming. Unsurprisingly, Ms. Rossi isn't one to repeat herself when it isn't necessary. "I'll be outside when you need me then…"

    That doesn't seem good either…

    Left alone, the atmosphere in the room was a little awkward. Had I already done something to offend her? Perhaps she's changed her mind, believing it was a mistake to bring me in for that last meeting, especially given that I was ignored when she handed out assignments. Rinko's our leader, so her inclusion was a must, and they made excellent points about both Eimi and Akira, though in Akira's case I'm not entirely sure it's a completely positive inclusion. Why exactly was I in that meeting except for being Rinko's roommate? While I wondered what it was that had landed me in this situation, Ms. Rossi spoke in the same commanding manner as before. Or maybe it's just that everything she says sounds like that? If her grasp of Japanese is overly formal, it isn't hard to think that maybe it's the only way she's been taught to speak it.

    "May I trouble you to lend me a hand?" Ms. Rossi was extending her right hand to me in a clear gesture. Without speaking - what was I to say? No? - I stepped closer to her seat and offered her my assistance. She stood, with some clear effort, bracing her left hand against a hitherto unseen straight silver cane as she drew herself upright, gripping my left arm firmly with her right. Once on her feet she was able to relax and stand unaided, letting go of my arm. "I would consider it a personal favor if you would refrain from discussing this even with your friends and producer. I loathe being seen as merely my condition."

    "I won't… What happened?" I immediately felt foolish. Of all the terrible things to ask right after being instructed not to talk about it…

    "An all too common story, I'm afraid. A handsome young man with more money than sense and more horsepower than control and a young woman all too eager to indulge him. I'm sure a beauty like you knows how young men can be, and of course how young women are all too willing to place their trust in them no matter how poorly it's deserved. On occasion, we pay a price for handing out our trust unwisely. Consider it hard-won wisdom from your elders. Now, please, come into my office."

    Ms. Rossi gestured toward the door behind her which has, so far, not been seen by any of us opened more than a small crack. She waited for me to enter of my own accord before following after me, her steps small and carefully calculated to accommodate her brace, yet somehow she was still carrying herself with the same grace and poise she'd exuded constantly since meeting her. I don't know what I had been expecting to find behind the door, but her office looked pretty much like you would expect any member of higher management to keep. The most unusual aspect was a large desk in one corner which held up an array of monitors, and at a glance I could make out several angles of the soundstage - complete with many of my friends - a corridor which I presumed was backstage, and even the conference room right beside us. A high tech command center for the entire project. The rest of the space looked more like a living room than an office, which made sense if Ms. Rossi was going to be spending most of her time on the project here. A long couch was pushed against the far wall, right behind a small coffee table and tea service. It was a slightly off-putting, mismatched blend of what I assume was the cheap, sturdy furniture which resides in this room permanently and the sorts of high-class touches Ms. Rossi no doubt brought along with her. A plain, wooden flatpack table was topped with a delightfully ornate stained glass lamp. Likewise the coffee table was plain and angular, but the tea service was old and ornate, and the spoons appeared to be real silver. She had claimed the space as well as she could. Her own secret lair from which to watch over the production.

    "Stand up straight, please. Let's get a better look at my shining star." As I pondered what she meant by that, I complied with her request, standing at attention roughly in the center of the room.

    Being manhandled a bit is a part of being a model and, consequently, a part of being an idol. Getting your makeup done, your hair set, being squeezed into costumes and designer clothes, pushed and pulled to your mark, very often by strangers whom you've met just minutes before… The entertainment industry can be very hands on, as much out of necessity as practicality. It's a very physical medium. It stands to reason that, at some point, it makes as much sense to photographers to simply pose your model as it does to try to guide them in the manner you're imagining.

    Thankfully though, unlike some of the harsh old men with egos bigger than their sizable stomachs who delight in making their subjects feel bad with crude looks and backhanded remarks as they pose, Ms. Rossi examined me primarily with her eyes and a gentle care that I wish all industry professionals possessed. The limit of her contact was a nudge of my chin with the tips of her fingers, viewing my face from several different angles, and then twirling a finger in the air - an indication for me to rotate in place and let her see my physique. She reached out and touched my hair, making a disapproving tut as she rubbed a pinch between her fingers, then eyed me up and down, taking particular notice of my shoes, which I had thought were very sensible and rather cute but with which she didn't seem to agree.

    "Is there a problem…?"

    "No, no. Well, yes, I suppose so. You've damaged your hair from repeated dyeings, but there's nothing that can be done about that in time for filming. I assume you need to lighten it quite a bit to achieve that color. I'll have Ms. Nanasawa set up an appointment with a local stylist I've worked with who's more used to fine hair like yours than those your agency employs. I know it can be difficult to find someone who understands your particular needs. She'll be able to give you some advice on how to strengthen and repair it. Make sure to follow her advice to the letter, otherwise you'll no doubt end up needing to shorten it little by little until it's a blunt bob or pixie, which would be a shame given your tremendous potential." To illustrate her point, Ms. Rossi held up a strand that had fallen out just from the light friction of her fingers. An unhappy coincidence and nothing more, I'm sure. She continued, speaking with an air of boredom, as though this was something she had done a thousand times before. "As you know, we did an exhaustive background check on all of the I MY ME employees working on the project, as is standard. I'm sure that comes as no surprise. Most of your peers' reports came back with the sort of mundane details one comes to expect. Pretty, middle class girls who enjoy singing and dancing. Talent that's a dime a dozen. The odd misdemeanor or failing grade in years past. A few, such as Ms. Hoshino and that dreadful Ms. Inagawa, provided an interesting read for our security team. We take our responsibility toward knowledge such as this very seriously, I want you to know that. This is surely the most secure building on this side of Tokyo right now, so you needn't be so on edge, dear. It's absolutely criminal how lax security is in your dormitory. Multiple heirs to financial empires residing at one address and you're barely as well guarded as a shopping mall. I shudder to think what could happen if they had entrusted this project to a lesser firm."

    "Ms. Rossi, I'm very sorry, but is there a reason you asked me to stay behind, or was it just to taunt me about my choice in friends and critique my hair?"

    Speaking to your elder in such a blunt fashion is impolite in any situation. Doing so to your boss, even if you meant no particular disrespect, is at least doubly so, especially when they could squash your entire career with no more effort than it took to loosen one of my long pink hairs. But, all this talk of security and our backgrounds was starting to sound like some sort of threat, and I've never been one to take that sort of thing lightly. I was raised to meet them head on and never underestimate words meant to intimidate or make you uneasy. Not when they're directed at me or my friends.

    "Please watch your tone. What would your mother think if she were-"

    She didn't finish that statement, though it's one she's probably rehearsed verbatim in anticipation of needing to scold unruly young idols. Instead she looked nearly as shocked to have said it as I was to have heard it.

    *So… She knows…*

    "Please accept my apology, Miss…" She neglected to finish that thought either, though I was perfectly fine with that going unspoken. Is this some kind of power move I'm just not understanding? "Ms. Junko, it was callous and inappropriate of me to say something like that without thinking, especially on such a delicate subject. My goal with this face to face chat was to set you more at ease, given the lengths you've gone to to obscure your pedigree. Your agency wouldn't even supply us with a full profile on you in advance, you know, which as you can imagine only made me more curious as to why exactly they were keeping such a secret. My offering is this: We've now exchanged a secret for a secret, as it were. I assure you every effort has been taken to keep our findings safeguarded, per your agency's very adamant request after the fact, and I hope you'll be as trustworthy with my own. Still, the cat is out of the bag, for both of us as it were. I hope this lapse won't harm what has the potential to be a very positive relationship for both of us, because I've rarely met a young woman with such untapped potential as yours."

    The way she smiled was warm, inviting, and very obviously well rehearsed, and I couldn't discern whether she was being genuine or somehow insidious. All this talk of my "pedigree", my dorm's security, exchanging secrets, and everything else… She sat in front of her desk, clutching her head lightly.

    "I suffer from migraines. Quite persistent, unfortunately, for nearly two decades now. Another secret for you to keep, if you don't mind, though one far less embarrassing. Showing weakness is fine and good for that perplexing kegadoru trend, but in the world of business it's as good as throwing oneself to the wolves. No, that's a poor analogy given this island's lack of wolves. To the boars, I suppose. Maybe.. bears…?" Ms. Rossi's thoughts kept trailing off toward less relevant details as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples roughly. "Could I trouble you to fetch me some water please, Junko dear? From the cooler."

    Clutching one hand to her right temple, Mr. Rossi sat in her desk chair limply and gestured with her remaining hand to a small refrigerator next to the sofa. Inside the cooler was nothing but blue glass bottles of mineral water. When I returned to her with one I noticed that her chair was equipped with two large wheels, and she had managed to cover her lap and legs with a beautiful gray and turquoise knitted blanket, which mostly but not entirely disguised a small shaking going on underneath. Whatever her condition, it seems more serious than she had ever hinted at. She popped something in her mouth and washed it down with a sip of the sparkling water, closed her eyes for a few moments, and continued our conversation, one-sided though it has been so far.

    "Forgive me for cutting short pleasantries and skipping directly to my reason for asking you here. Your grades are above average and you have only a single semester of schooling left, correct?" I nodded, though of course I assume this was meant as a rhetorical question given what else this woman knew about me. "Twice a year I select an aide to shadow me as we prepare for the upcoming season. None of my proteges have failed to move on to outstanding careers of their own, and it's with both pride and regret that my last aide quite suddenly left his internship early to head a project of his own in Paris. With my blessing, of course. This has left me over-reliant on Ms. Nanasawa, who has her own duties to attend to on this project which I'm sure you'll agree are too important to risk her distraction. I am sure that you can now see why I asked you here. Are you up to the task?"

    "Ms. Rossi? What exactly are you asking me? I'm already working on the project too."

    "Yes, and I know it isn't fair that the expectations on you in particular are especially high from so many people, but I am offering a unique opportunity. The days will be long. You'll be held to an exacting standard even compared to your peers when on set, and you'll speak with my authority. You'll stand apart from them in a way which may be uncomfortable at times. However, if you possess the aptitude I believe you do, you'll find you will earn the most precious commodity in our business."

    "Which is…?"

    "My trust and my favor. You may talk to Ms. Nanasawa if you have any doubt as to the value of such a prize. You have until tomorrow morning to decide. See me after the morning briefing if you're up to the challenge of burning as only a true star can. If not, I'll know my instincts are dulling as the years pass, and you may continue to play the role of mere idol."

    This much was true about what Ms. Rossi had said: As far as the wider world of fashion is concerned, I was indeed being handed an opportunity whose value couldn't be calculated without an excessive number of zeros. It wasn't even a proposition which I hated. I've never been scared of a little hard work, and I was already expecting to put in plenty to make this project a success. However, what bothered me was the reason why I was being offered this opportunity. Is it really my potential which she sees, or just a passing resemblance to someone else? If I were forced to answer right now, I would probably have turned her down. But with nearly twenty-four hours to think about it, I honestly can't say how I'll be feeling tomorrow.

    I tried to steel myself and show as little as possible as I deferred Ms. Rossi's answer until then. "Thank you for the opportunity. I'll be sure to let you know tomorrow what I decide."

    "An excellent poker face. Good. That will be all for now. Please let Ms. Nanasawa know I'm ready for her on your way to the set."

    With that, as though she had delivered news no more interesting than ordering me to fetch her a coffee and croissant, Caterina Rossi, the most powerful woman in European fashion, turned to the large stack of envelopes on her desk and wasted no time returning to work exactly as though I were already no longer here.

    What… just happened…?

    "Junko…" She spoke now barely above a whisper, clearly suffering a great deal from her malady. "I do hope we can work well together. Nothing concerning this project would please me more."

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