Diminished

The bitter cold of the morning seeped into the room, chilling and refreshing all at once. Shiori Ayase pulled on the black leather duster jacket she’d found at a vintage store earlier that week, long enough to cover her simple, snug black dress and keep her warm. Black stiletto boots and her outfit was complete.

And would get her out of the house for her interview without an interrogation. If she could reach the bus stop, she could handle whatever the world threw at her.

She slipped out of her bedroom and walked the twenty-two steps along the carpeted hall, holding tight to her purse strap so the metal chains wouldn’t jingle. A flash from the living room doorway, followed by the theme song for Sesame Street told her Hiro was awake. He’d be fine with his cartoons while she was gone, but she didn’t want him to hear her leaving. If he fussed and woke her stepfather, the man would demand to know where she was going.

She managed to get the front door open without so much as a click before soft, padded footsteps sounded behind her.

“Where are you off to?”

Shiori planted a calm smile on her lips and turned to face her stepfather’s girlfriend, Elizabeth. “Just a job interview.”

The tall, slender brunette looked her over, her brows lifting as though she was ready to question Shiori’s words. Then she smirked. “Good. You’re too old to still be living off Brian. Are you thinking of moving out?”

That was a tricky question to answer. Shiori would have moved out a long time ago if it wasn’t for Hiro, but Elizabeth was convinced that she stayed because she was too lazy to get a job. Nothing Shiori said would change her mind, so she didn’t bother explaining herself anymore.

And if she wanted to get out of the house before her stepfather woke up, she needed to keep the conversation short.

So she simply shrugged. “If I get the job, I might. Wish me luck?”

“Good luck.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Not to be a bitch, but it’s about damn time.”

Not bothering to answer, Shiori stepped out onto the front walkway, closing the door softly behind her. She hurried through the fresh white snow covering the sidewalk, reaching the bus stop with a few minutes to spare.

Only once she’d taken a seat on the bus heading to downtown Detroit did she let herself relax. She plugged her earbuds into her phone and slipped them in her ears, closing her eyes as the music pulled her in.

She’d listened to this album over and over since it came out. Her best friend, since high school, Wendy, had pre-ordered the album with a whole fan pack—T-shirts, guitar pick, phone cover—last month for Shiori’s twentieth birthday. They both loved the music, but Wendy follow the band almost religiously. She’d been over the moon about the interview, convinced that Shiori would definitely get the contract and would soon have backstage passes to hand out.

If Shiori got the job and had access to passes, she would get Wendy one. But she didn’t consider anything in life a sure thing. And even if she got the contract, could she take it? Wendy knew all her plans, and most of the reasons behind them, but she didn’t understand why Shiori was afraid to leave her nephew for any length of time.

Elizabeth might hate Shiori, but she was good with Hiro. He loved her and he’d be taken care of if Shiori was gone for a few weeks.

But her stepfather was a different story. Elizabeth thought he was an amazing man, taking care of his stepdaughter on his own for so long, as well as the child of the other stepdaughter who’d lost her life so young. In her eyes, the man was a saint.

Just thinking of her big sister brought tears to Shiori’s eyes. Kyoko had Hiro when she was only sixteen, but while she was pregnant, she’d still had so many plans for their future. She wanted to get a place somewhere. Take Shiori with her. And leave the life they’d been trapped in since their mother’s death.

She gotten to hold her son only once as her small, delicate body lost the last of the strength she’d retained during the difficult pregnancy.

“Promise me you’ll take care of him, Shiori. That he’ll never…that what happened to us will never happen to him.”

“I promise.” Shiori had taken Hiro into her arms as the doctors and nurses rushed around her, one drawing her aside as they tried to save her sister.

The doctor had warned Kyoko that she might not survive bringing the baby to term. Shiori watched them, helpless, knowing her sister was already gone.

Kyoko hadn’t cared about the risk. She loved Hiro’s father and used all her strength to cling to the only part of him she had left. Asking Shiori to care for their child had meant more than her own survival. Once Shiori said the words, Kyoko let go.

I would have taken care of him no matter what.

Keeping her promise to her sister hadn’t been hard, but Hiro was getting older. Almost six now. Another year or so and she might not be able to protect him. The casting call had come at the perfect time. Her stepfather was going to Taiwan for a couple months to negotiate a business merger. There was nothing holding her back.

Wendy had called her, freaking out when she saw the post involving their favorite band.

“Diverse Faces, Shiori! You’d be perfect for this!” Wendy laughed, happy even though she had to be a little jealous. “Too bad they’re not looking for a cute, short, pudgy redhead. I’d so try out!”

“Oh stop it, you’re beautiful.” Shiori read the article on the heavy metal site, which speculated on why the band would need another model on such short notice. Her pulse quickened as she clicked on the link to the agency and filled out the application. She’d left the link open until the next day, bringing her laptop to Wendy’s house so her best friend could read over all she’d written and take a few pictures to upload. “There’s gonna be girls all over the country applying. I’ll try, but there’s no guarantee I’ll get in.”

“But you deserve it! Shiori, listen to me. None of them are you and you have an advantage.” Wendy bit her bottom lip. “Maybe if you tell them everything, they’ll—”

“No.” Shiori clicked send on what she’d put together and set her laptop aside. “What if they say something? I won’t risk it. If this doesn’t work, I’ll find another way.”

“What if you can’t?” Wendy frowned, her smooth, freckled forehead creasing with concern. “This isn’t only your chance to get away, Shiori. It’s his.”

Shiori’s throat tightened. “I know. And I…I’ll think about it, okay? But if I’m not a good fit, any story I might tell them won’t change that.”

Wendy had let it go at that. She imagined a much better future for Shiori than she’d ever considered for herself, but her enthusiasm helped Shiori get a little wrapped up in the dream. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe she could actually change her life.

Hope could be painful, so she didn’t lean on it too much. Tonight, she’d be coming home to the same life she’d been living since she was a little girl. Being ignored was usually the best scenario. Being noticed was bad.

But today, she needed to be noticed. To stand apart.

The bus pulled up to her stop and she quickly made her way onto the curb. Double checked the address, then headed into the office building. Getting past the first stage, where she’d actually been invited for an interview, was a big deal. Even if she didn’t get the job she wanted, she might have other opportunities.

Could she take them, though? A chance to give Hiro a better life—even if she had to leave him for a short while—was worth just about anything. But money alone didn’t guarantee that.

The receptionist smiled at her and waved her on, instructing her to go to the waiting room on the eighth floor. Shiori took the elevator up, slipped her jacket off, and folded it over her arm. She stepped out, looking around at the clean, crisp white and glass room, with photos of models on every wall. Her eyes went wide as she took them in.

Every picture portrayed a woman that defied the typical standards of beauty. Many magazines still had blue eyed, blond women on the cover, but these images made them seem plain. There was a black woman in several pictures whose fierce gaze alone made her impossible to forget. Another prominent picture was of an older Chinese woman whose smile lit up the whole room. A picture of an Indian woman, with a bindi mark on her forehead, hung on the wall behind the desk in the center of the room. As stunning as every woman on display.

Did Shiori really belonged here? Sure, she was pretty. Being pretty hadn’t worked in her favor since she was little. She wasn’t as smart as people assumed she would be. Even well-meaning teachers asked if her parents expected better than the grades she managed.

Her stepfather didn’t care about grades. So long as she didn’t do bad enough for teachers to annoy him, he was satisfied. She’d learned how to make his coffee in the morning, to be sweet and quiet. He considered that traditional enough. She was his good little girl. Pretty and submissive. What more could a man want from a daughter?

Her own father would have expected more. She told herself so all the time, even though he’d died before she was born. Maybe he would have been one of those fathers who went to violin recitals and smiled when his child played perfectly. Or showed up at teacher/parent interviews, asking how his child could improve in math or science.

She had Japanese friends who complained that their parents always wanted them to do better. And she’d give anything to be one of them. Her grandparents had been like that with her mother, and she’d always spoken fondly of them. Even after they disowned her for marrying Shiori’s stepfather.

They’d hated the man. Had wanted better for their daughter. And, in some way, even her mother had believed them cutting her off had been out of love. But she’d chosen a man over her family.

And refused to admit she’d made a mistake until her very last breath.

“Shiori?” A tall, black woman, in a charcoal-colored suit, came into the waiting room, pulling Shiori from her thoughts. She smiled when Shiori looked up, holding out her hand as Shiori approached her. “A pleasure to meet you. Please come with me.”

She led Shiori to an office down a long hall, lined with various pictures of the agencies models. Shiori spotted a portrait of the model who worked with the band and inhaled roughly. After just a few months in the music scene, the model’s face could be recognized anywhere. She’d done perfume ads with a member of the band. Several magazine spreads. A music video that was already considered one of the most impressive in the business in recent years.

If Shiori got the job, she’d be working with her. And despite all her other reasons for wanting the contract with the band, one of the most personal was that she really wanted to meet the woman. Ever since she’d first heard of Danica Tallien, she’d admired her. There were rumors of Danica dating one of the members of the band, but none shadowed the impression she’d made with her presence in the music scene. She wasn’t the first model to step on stage during a heavy metal performance, but few had made as big of an impact as she had.

Her beginning as a child star, then her return as a fierce performer, set her apart.

The office Shiori stepped into had walls of glass. She shut the door carefully, intimidated by the knowledge any who walked by could see her. Maybe one of those famous models? She focused on the room. A modern office, with a sharply defined black desk and two art deco, red padded metal chairs sitting in front of it. Suitable for the CEO of one of the leading agencies in the fashion world.

“Shiori, please have a seat and make yourself comfortable. My name is Sophie.” The woman motioned Shiori to one of the chairs. “I’ll assume you read the email and know your profile will be done here once we’ve spoken, since you don’t have one already. I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed, but things move fast here. I called you in because I think you have the look my agency needs. You applied specifically for this casting call, but are you interested in other work if we find something for you?”

Well, at least she wasn’t beating around the bush. Not that Shiori had the first idea how to answer that question. She wasn’t aiming for another job, but would she turn one down?

She smiled her practiced smile and met Sophie’s level gaze. “To be honest, I came into this hoping to fill the spot you’d made the casting call for, but I think I’d be willing to consider other options.”

“You think you’d be willing to consider them?” Sophie took a seat behind her desk, her eyes fixed on Shiori’s face. “Why do you want to work with Winter’s Wrath, Shiori? Very few models would even consider getting on stage with a band as a way to start their career.”

“But Danica Tallien did and you represent her. From what I’ve read she signed on with them to change her image.”

“She did, but she already had an impressive portfolio. Only, she was seen as a child star and that wasn’t helping her move forward. You don’t have that issue.” Sophie placed her hands on her desk, her eyes narrowing. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Shiori. I could find you work. But you implied being on stage with the band was what you wanted, more than anything.”

“It is.”

“Why?”

Not easy to answer, without revealing too much. Or looking like a desperate fan. Shiori clasped her hands on her lap and took a deep breath. “There are…personal reasons, but I don’t want them to matter. I want the job because you think I’m the best for it. The rest? I…I don’t know. I didn’t plan that far ahead.”

“But you did plan something?” Sophie’s frown drew lines in her forehead. She shook her head. “Shiori, I will tell you this. I need to see you dance. See you with the band before I make my decision. That said, they’ve had more than their share of drama. I’m not ready to sign up for more.”

Drama? Shiori hadn’t considered that. And maybe she should have. The headlines about the band had been nasty for a while before the press got bored. Drugs, sex and violence sells. They could have used the tawdry gossip to their advantage.

Instead, they ignored the speculation and focused on their new album. On creating cutting edge music videos that reached their core audience and kept fans begging for more.

They were known for their talent and worked hard to keep it that way.

Shiori’s presence could change all that. Sophie deserved the whole story. And a promise it wouldn’t be the next headline.

Media attention wouldn’t save Shiori. Or Hiro.

But the job just might.

“I don’t want the spotlight…” Shiori ducked her head as Sophie arched a brow. “Okay, on stage, yes. I want to be seen. But I want people to love the band. And I’m good with being a pretty prop.”

“Oh, sweetie. You’ll be so much more.” Sophie reached across the desk and took Shiori’s hands in hers. “If it helps, there is a non-disclosure clause in your contract. Which works both ways. Anything you tell me remains between us.”

Saying she didn’t need a clause in her contract to trust Sophie would be easy, the woman was a wonderful mix of professional and approachable, something she hadn’t expected.

Shiori had read so much about different models, how they got into the industry, horror stories of being manipulated by their agents. Danica’s Instagram posts covered some of her journey, showing her on tour with the band, her trips around the world to different fashion events whose coordinators competed for a chance to have her make an appearance. And scattered among those posts were pictures of her and Sophie, with captions that showed how close they were.

Danica spoke of Sophie as though she was family. Something between a maternal figure and a close friend.

What must it be like to have someone like that in your life? Shiori couldn’t even imagine. And didn’t dare to. Not yet.

But she could have someone who’d work hard to give her a successful career. Who’d have her best interest at heart. It was no secret Sophie did that for all her models, giving that personal touch which made her one of the best in the industry.

Her future would be in Sophie’s capable hands.

After she gave the woman a glimpse of her past.

“I hope this doesn’t change your opinion of me. Or ruin my chances to work with the band.” Shiori took a deep breath. “I’m not sure where to begin. Or…or maybe I am. I should tell you about my sister. Because as much the opportunity to work with the band means to me…I need to do this for her.”