Okay, this is my latest attempt to write a catchy story! Lol, review please!

Chapter One.

BPOV

I grabbed my tote filled with my heels, my book, and a few other necessary things. I had a go-see today and at the rate I was going I was going to be late—very late.

This was one of those things that being late for will ruin your career, and since mine was still in the two to three jobs a year, I couldn't risk this.

My name is Bella Swan and I am a model. Well, sorta. You may know my face from those Princess perfume ads. Then again, you might not. I'm no Tyra Banks, but I'm friends with people like her.

Unfortunately, if I was even five minutes late to this go-see, I could kiss all that good-bye.

I ran downstairs and outside, forgetting to lock the door on the way out. Oh well, it wasn't like I had anything to steal. And in this side of New York City, no one stole anything. It was the college kid part of town. Artists, models, photographers, and anyone who hadn't made it "big" lived here.

Of course I would live in apartment A5 in this "non-big" area, as Alice Brandon, my best friend and famous model, would call it.

The bus stop was only seven steps from my door, thankfully, and the bus was just pulling up. I paid the fee and grabbed an empty seat. It was still early in the day so I was able to get a seat by myself.

As I sat I thought about how lucky I was to even book this appointment. I wasn't famous, and the ad had called for semi-well-known models with sharp features. Of course Alice clipped it out and told me if I didn't go to this go-see I would regret it the rest of my runway-walking life.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even notice as the bus pulled up to my stop until I realized we were pulling away. "Wait!" I yelled, pulling on the cord to stop.

"Yo, lady. Pay attention once in a while!" The bus driver yelled as I dashed off.

I barely heard him over my rapidly pounding heart.

A tall, blonde model cut in front of me and almost slammed the door in my face. "Hey! Watch out!" It looks like today was going to be one of those days.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see you there. I guess I don't really notice people like you that often." She said the word you with as much contempt as it was possible to in one single word.

"Well I guess you wouldn't. Your eyes are so small you probably can't see anything." In this business, big eyes are big, so calling someone small-eyed is like saying they are fugly.

She didn't reply, but swung her thick blond hair over her shoulder and stomped up to the secretary. "Rosalie Hale here to see Esme Cullen."

"It will be one minute. Take a seat," the secretary pointed to a couch tucked into the corner.

"Hi, I'm Bella Swan, also here to see Esme Cullen."

The girl on duty looked me from head to toe and asked, "Is it April Fools Day?"

"What?"

"You are so not a model. There is no way some agency sent you over to audition for this. Seriously, go back home and go back to your job pushing paper. This is so not for you."

That hurt. Bad. "Well, just tell her I'm here." This business was full of people who wouldn't like you. I had booked jobs before, none as big as this, but I'd done it. Some stupid receptionist had no right telling me whether or not I had the "look."

"Will do." She punched some letters into the computer and went back to playing solitaire.

I sat down on the couch, as far away from the Miss Rosalie Hale as I could. I knew her, everyone did! But I also knew she was a bitch. She had proved that to me with her earlier comments and the way she had just brushed me off.

My heart was still racing so I hummed the tune of my favorite song in my head. We have to go a thousand oceans wide… 1000 dark years when time has died… it always helped calm me down and this time was no exception.

A loud, "Miss Swan?" interrupted my dreaming.

"Yes?"

"Esme will see you now."

Taking a deep breath, I stood, but not without a glance over at the perfect Rosalie. She was giving me a death-glare, probably because I was called before her. Oh well, that's the business.

I picked up my bag and followed the assistant into a large white room. Inside were a few tables. Most were covered with drawings and half-finished models of clothing, but at one, the largest and central table, sat Esme Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, and the infamous Edward Masen. They were just sitting there, staring.

"Hi, I'm Bella Swan."

"We know," Esme's voice was musical and carried across the large space between us. "We've seen some of your ads. They are very well done, I must say. You have an original look."

"Thank you." Confidence was key. If I looked scared and nervous, I would never get a job.

"We like original."

I had to smile at that. So they liked me! The other girl, Rosalie, was known for taking beautiful pictures, but in the unique category, she fell very short.

Not that she was short.

"So would you like to see my portfolio?"

"Yes, bring it to us, please," the man to the left of Esme, Carlisle, said. His voice was beautiful too, not the same beauty as Esme's, but still nice. Maybe it was a family trait.

I walked the long distance toward their table. Up close Esme was lovely. She had a heart-shaped face and long wavy hair. It was a motherly face. Carlisle, however, looked anything but fatherly. He had striking features and bright blonde hair. The man to the other side of Esme, though, was the most beautiful. There was no other word to describe the bronze haired, green-eyed man. He had sharp cheekbones and a straight, thin nose. Unfortunately, only his horrible demeanor matched his wonderful looks.

This man was Edward Masen, the famous photographer who is better known for reducing models to tears than for his astonishingly artistic, and groundbreaking art.

I handed them my black, leather book filled with pictures. "Thank you. Carlisle will look at your photos while you walk for us."

"Now?"

"Yes. Walk from here to the door and back. Show us your best walk and we will probably book you." She gave me a sweet smile but then her face turned back to business-like stone.

I turned and gave them my best attempt at a runway walk. I was not a wonderful walker, but I could hold my own. Alice said I had one-upped most of the famous runway models on the catwalk now. Of course, I had never gotten booked for runway before, so maybe Alice was a bit biased.

As I returned to the desk, Carlisle closed my book and looked up at me. "I like your work. You have an interesting style and here at Cullen Designs we like style."

"Yes, your walk it good. You may want to get a few pointers from our earlier clients. Do you know Alice Brandon? She could help you."

"Yes, actually! She's my friend and she's been helping me a lot with my walk. I'll tell her you recommended her."

Esme gave me her secret non-business smile. "Okay then. If you'll wait in the lobby for a little while, we have one more client to interview and then we will make our final decision. You will probably want to be around for that."

"Okay. Thank you for your time."

"No, Bella. Thank you."

I couldn't help the huge grin that spread across my face as I went to sit down. They liked me! Rosalie, of course, saw the grin, but only matched it with a smug look of her own. She thought she had this interview nailed down, but what she didn't know was what they were looking for was not what she had.

For about five minutes I sat looking at the walls until I heard the door slam shut and a very angry blonde came stamping into the room. "The nerve of that man! How dare he tell me I'm not model enough!"

"Who said that?"

"That photographer! Edward Masen! He is such a fucking ass! Never work with him, trust me, you will regret it."

"Um, thanks for the advice."

With one last screech the very angry Rosalie Hale left Cullen Designs Headquarters.

Within two minutes of her departure, Esme came out and into the lobby. "Well, aren't you a lucky girl. Rosalie didn't make a very good impression so you have the job."

"I do!"

"Yes. You start tomorrow at seven a.m. sharp with our photographer, Edward. Arrive here at least fifteen minutes before seven. Okay?"

"Yes! That's perfectly okay!"

With one last smile she swept out of the room, but I couldn't care less.

I had the job!

So what do you think? Should I continue? Review please!