Chapter Text
Liz could vaguely hear the sound of the backstage seeping through the IEM’s technology. Her guitar lay flat on the floor, still in its case, as she tapped her foot on the floor. It was her first major show; the thought of failing rippled through every crevice of her mind. If she told her younger self that one day she would be performing with Mary J. Blige for a Victoria's Secret runway, younger Liz would’ve told her to go to rehab and sober up. But right now, older Liz needed a drink, badly. She didn't care if it was tequila and lime or even a fucking piña colada. Anything would’ve been sufficient enough before she had to perform in front of the fashion world’s elite and a bunch of hot models in lingerie.
The stage manager walked up to her with a folder in hand and beads of sweat adorning her furrowed eyebrows. She pointed to Liz’s earpiece and made a grabbing motion, her frown deepening at Liz’s lack of movement. Her hand movements became a little more exaggerated and Liz finally got that she was asking for it back.
“Sorry, Miller, but they ended up giving you a faulty piece,” the blonde lady grumbled, stress lines forcing themselves on her face and eyes slightly red from probably the late nights put into working the show. “Nothing fucking goes as fucking planned here,” she muttered, walking away in large steps accentuated by the loud clack of her heels.
Suddenly, the room around her became way too loud, the IEM’s technology not there to dampen the noise. Feedback noises ran through her ears, overlapping with the sound of coordinators reading the names of the models and the faint yells between the models and stylists as a model complained about the discomfort of her heels. At a distance, she heard the bustle of the camera crew fixing up minute mistakes in the positions of the cameras and the loud ringing of a phone.
“Whose fucking phone is that!” the stage manager yelled from across the room.
“Sorry, sorry, it's mine,” a model whisper-yelled, running to the buzzing phone on the table and switching it off as soon as she got a hold of it.
Liz was there for the dress rehearsal or show run or whatever you call the pre-runway walk to prepare, and she saw some of the models' choreographed moves around them and whatever work that needed to be done, but the reality of the evening didn't even remotely settle in till today.
The chaos around her grounded her in the stress of it all. Everything started feeling more real to Liz when the pink-haired stylist ushered her into a dressing room and gave her the outfit she planned for her.
In all honesty, Liz didn't exactly love it, nor did she actually hate it. But there was something about it that really bothered her; she couldn't quite put a finger on it. Maybe it was the way the silk shirt kept slipping off her shoulders, or the deep cut of the V-neck, or the black blazer that had an A-line cut instead of the usual double-breasted style.
Inhaling sharply, she stared at the glare of lights, like a halo adorning the stage, seeping through the walls to the backstage. She took in the dancing of particles in the light's touch, trying to find anything to keep her from throwing up. Feeling the AC dry up her lips, she impulsively ran her tongue around them, attempting to moisten them to no avail. Then, a muffled bassline vibrated through the floorboards of the stage. It was the sound manager checking the house audio.
Shit. Fuck. That was the ten-minute call. She had to go check on the band to see if they were ready to go as well. How could she have been so selfish, only thinking of herself? Oh my fuck. Heart hammering loudly through her ribs, she ran her way through the dressing room, manoeuvring around the tall models with ease due to her shorter height.
Finally out of the trap of chairs, girls, and dressing tables, she picked up her pace in a hurry to find her band. She speed-walked the floor, focusing only on the path in front of her, but in her need to find her band, she bumped into a blonde model, who now was wobbling slightly to keep some semblance of grace.
“Shit. Sorry,” Liz mumbled, hands thrown out to help the stumbling girl from falling over her six-inch platform heels. The model looked awfully shocked as she gripped Liz’s wrist with her sharp, manicured nails, her nails indenting into the soft skin and veins of Liz. Liz didn't mind the pain, just in a desperate need to not injure the model by making her fall backward.
“It's okay, I’m fine. I’m fine,” she repeated, as if she was trying to assure herself more than she was to Liz. “You are in a hurry,” she giggled a little. It wasn't a very funny situation, but Liz was truly appreciative of the model for finding some humour in their little run-in. “Runway jitters?”
“Something like that, I guess,” she muttered, trying not to stumble over words at the sight of the model and her stunning blue eyes not moving away from Liz’s face. The tall girl in front of her was a passage straight out of Aphrodite's notebook. She had warm blonde hair with lighter highlights spilling from her blowout. Her Victoria's Secret wings towered over her frame and caged her in tulle and ribbons; similarly to how she was dressed, a navy blue triangle tulle bra top with ribbons wrapping around her entire torso and arms. Instead of a traditional bikini bottom, she was wearing a micro mini denim skirt that hung lowly on her hips. The model crossed over her toned legs, attempting to adjust her height to meet Liz’s own, but it was pretty impossible when she had legs that seemed to go on for ages. Her eyebrows were threaded thin, with a fine arch cornering over her brow bone. She had brown eyeshadow glistening off her eyelids and trailing to the outer corners of her eyelids.
Liz swallowed deeply, reeling herself back from getting distracted by the model’s face. “You know the, um... feeling that you might just fuck it up somehow. And it's not like I haven't performed before, but no amount of shows or concerts can lessen this fear. I guess I will always kind of seize up before the big moment.”
“Yeah, I see,” the blonde hummed, nodding her head, each movement as composed as a well-choreographed ballet performance. Liz couldn't tell if it was a ruse to ease her or if it was just the model’s mannerisms.
“Hard to believe that that happens to you,” Liz scoffed in a slightly awkward manner that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde.
“I mean, it's never happened to me, but I do see your point,” the model said with utter smoothness in her voice, like she was trying to soothe a baby. “You just have to think about it like this: you are never being picked to do something you aren't good at, and assuming you are part of the band, my friend Naomi knows Mary very well, and Mary would never pick someone she didn't think was good.”
“Huh? That surprisingly helped. Thanks. I honestly didn't expect to get a pep talk from a Victoria's Secret model,” Liz chuckled, as the model pursed her lips in content. “Thank you again... um...” trailing off, as she didn't know the model’s name.
“Oh, it's Elle. And you’ve got this, baby,” she grinned, all toothy and cheerful, turning her glittery thumbs up to Liz before strutting back to the busy crowd of models. Liz observed her as she ran up to a pretty ginger model and took her hands and giggled over something she couldn't quite make out. She looked back at Liz one last time, winking before disappearing in the sea of girls. Liz would be lying if she didn't admit that the small interaction made her cheeks flush. After all, anyone would get a tad bit flustered if a gorgeous model stood making direct eye contact with you whilst giving you the sweetest pep talk. It was absolutely inevitable for someone to get flustered or at least a little starstruck.
Straightening her posture, she realised she still needed to find her band before showtime and iron out final details, but as she walked down the winding hallways of the 69th Regiment Armory, she looked back to the dressing room. Eyes honed on the last place she saw Elle, she let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. The muscles in her shoulders finally loosening up at the thought that now, she at least had something to look forward to during the show.