FLAWLESS

"Here you go," Melanie, my producer, says, handing me a water bottle along with the two pink pills.

I swallow them and unscrew the cap. Turning the bottle up to my lips, I use the water to chase the pills down as Camyrn, my hairstylist, puts the finishing touches on my hair.

The door opens, and a cool breeze blows in along with Marie Crowder, my executive producer. The beautiful, red-haired, green-eyed executive producer pushes her away through the team working on my appearance and stares quizzically at me for a moment.

She sniffs and then says, "Remember, don't ask her anything about the divorce. That's off-limits right now, and her husband's lawyer is looking for her to screw up. She's got a couple of billion riding on this thing."

"I know, I know."

"I'm serious, Dani. I know that it's what everyone wants to hear right now, but I've promised her that we wouldn't discuss it," she says, taking one hand off her hip to squeeze my shoulder.

"Okay, I hear ya loud and clear."

"Good. It's time for you to take your place," Marie says, breezing back out of the room in her peach caftan blouse and black, wide-legged pants.

I stand and remove the dressing robe that covers my white off-the-shoulder jumpsuit. Nicole, my dresser, bends down to puff out the wide-leg pants before stepping back and giving her nod of approval.

"Dani, these gold sandals are chef's kiss. They're just what this outfit needs," she says, kissing the tips of her fingers and splaying them out at me.

"Thanks, Nic. You know I trust your style, girl. You're the only one that I trust to dress me."

"Well, dressing you is an honor. I've always dreamt of dressing a model, but to dress one of America's top models is the highest honor."

I smile before Mel pushes Nicole out of the way and steps close to me once more. Mel places her hands on my shoulders. "Are you good, kid?"

"I'm good, Mel."

"Okay, come on. It's show time," she says, winking at me and turning me towards the door of my dressing room.

I sashay down the short hall to the studio where my show is taped. The doors are instantly pulled open for me, and I waltz out onto the stage to thunderous applause from my studio audience.

"Dani!" They chant repeatedly as the music for the show is cued.

I bow before them and blow several kisses as my curls sweep over my shoulders and then back in place when I stand. They're still cheering as I make my way to my seat. I blow a few more kisses, wave, and then finally sit down.

Crossing my right leg over my left, I pick up my glass of wine that waits on my table for me at every show and take a sip.

"You guys are full of energy and excitement today. Are you ready for Tia Santana," I ask, referencing our special guest today.

"Yes!" they shout amid catcalls from several of the men in the audience.

I chat with my guests just a little longer before I introduce our special guest, Tia. She walks out with a broad smile, wearing a daring, short, yellow dress paired with black stilettos.

I stand and hug her before we exchange air kisses. When the audience applause dies down I turn to Tia and say, "Girl, I'm loving that hair color on you."

She smiles and turns from side to side, showing it off to the audience, who cheers again.

"Honey blonde definitely pairs well with your bronze skin tone."

"Thank you! I just came back from vacation in Rio and got a tan," she gushes.

"Honey, you have the most gorgeous skin. You're naturally tan and beautiful."

Tiny pinpricks of heat creep along my skin. They feel like little needles poking me, and I try to push away the uncomfortable sensation.

"Thanks, Dani. So are you!"

"So, Rio?"

"Yes," she says, smiling broadly. "After filming Lover's Sabbatical, I needed a break."

"I heard that you guys worked twenty hours a day, six days a week, for four and a half months."

"Girl, yes! I haven't had a chance to see my family, scream at the top of my lungs, or anything. The one day that we had off each week, I was too tired to fly back home to California."

"And you all filmed in different locales, correct?" I ask, my mouth grows dry.

I shove the glass of wine on my table aside in favor of the bottled water.

"Yes, we did. We were in New York, Belize, Bogotá, Florida, and back to New York again for those four and a half months. When I say that a girl was tired!"

Laughing, I reply, "Most people would consider that a vacation."

"Please. What I do may look like fun, but it's hard work. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, but it can be very demanding."

"And Cal Walker. How was it working with him?"

The audience whistles and grows rowdy again to which Tia laughs at them. I see a slight blush creeping up her cheeks, which makes me wonder about that.

Our segment continues until the first break. Patrice rushes out to refresh my makeup, and I see Mel hanging near the door, watching me closely. I turn my gaze away from hers as the first trickle of sweat pours down my spine.

I grab a few tissues preparing to dab at the sweat on my face, when Patrice taps my hand. "What are you doing? You're messing up my work."

"You know that I can't stand sweat, Pat."

"There's no sweat, Dani."

"On my top lip."

"You're imagining stuff. Now, hold still."

It's a struggle, but I manage to incorporate mind over matter and remain still. It seems like only three seconds have passed since we went to commercial, but we're being cued that the break is over.

"Now, before we get into the good stuff, girlfriend, walk to the center of the stage and show off that shoe porn!"

Tia giggles and gets up to do as I ask. She dances in the middle of the stage before returning to her seat.

A fun, upbeat tune begins to play as the crowd shouts, "Ten dash!"

The room is hot as hell, and I want to ask someone to please turn on the air conditioner, but the music seems to grow louder.

Guests have to answer as many questions as they can in ten seconds. The buzzer begins, and I start with my questions.

I feel a wave of dizziness as I look at the floor. I close my eyes and slowly lift my head, opening my eyes once more. I press a smile to my lips as I turn to Tia who has a look of concern on her face.

"Kids."

"Three."

"Years in the industry."

"Eighteen."

"Favorite male actor you've worked with."

"Taryn Spiers."

"Ma—"

The world spins all around me as the voices grow further and further away. Darkness claws at me and no matter how hard I try to fight it, no matter how scared I feel, I can't stay away from its evil grasp.

I feel my body hitting the floor before I black out.