002

The next morning she sat down at the PC and gathered all the information she could find about the Super Model crew. It was almost noon when she had gathered everything that seemed important to her. She snuggled down on the couch with her notes and went through each person. 

First up, of course, was the label's head judge and producer, Harriet Grumb. She had been a very successful model herself, but at thirty-four she was well past her prime. Now she was taking advantage of the girls' inexperience and naivety to make a fortune. Allegedly, she wasn't particularly gentle with either the models or her employees. There were enough reports describing how she used to bully people. 

At her side and also on the jury were two men, Michael Fairgate and Craig Peters. 

Michael Fairgate, just called "Mick" by everyone, was the owner of one of the leading modeling agencies. The winner of each season received a two-year modeling contract from him in addition to a $500,000 prize. He was thirty-two years old, married with two children and a homely looking wife. There were a number of photos showing him as a proudly smiling father surrounded by his family. 

Craig Peters was the youngest member of the jury at the age of thirty and at first glance a blank slate, she had hardly found anything about him. He had only joined last season near the end, as a replacement for a fashion designer who had dropped out at short notice. Apparently he was quite rich, it was said that he was the sole heir to a larger hotel chain. Jill was no stranger to the Peters Holiday resorts, and if he was indeed part of that family empire, he was worth several millions. There were a few minor women's story reports, as well as a few photos showing him alongside elegant and prominent women. Nothing else could be learned, obviously he knew how to keep his private life out of the public eye. 

On board since the first season was Ewan Miller, thirty-two years old, make-up artist, stylist, and, according to the relevant websites, just as bitchy and hysterical as the models he used to do make-up. It was rumored that he was more interested in men than women, but that wasn't at all uncommon in this industry. 

Then there was Joel Benson, the star photographer, only twenty-six years old but already internationally known. There was hardly a celebrity who had not been photographed by him. His pictures were brilliant, he masterfully understood how to transform even the most inconspicuous people into radiant personalities. Not much was known about his private life either, except that he had been in a relationship with a well-known actress for quite some time. 

So that was the regular cast, plus there were a number of other people who worked in the background on the show and kept changing. 

Jill spent the afternoon memorizing all the details. Then she took the folder that Walter had given her and looked through it. 

Lucy Hollister was the youngest contestant last season at seventeen. Usually the participants had to be at least eighteen years old, but in exceptional cases it was accepted if the parents gave a written declaration of consent. The photos showed an extremely pretty and well built girl with brown hair and dark eyes smiling happily for the camera. She'd made it to the finals, placed second, then just inexplicably disappeared. Since she hadn't appeared after the last broadcast ended, it was assumed that her disappearance was related to the show. There was no evidence of this, and all interviews with those involved had not yielded any clues in this regard. 

Sometime towards evening, with a soft sigh, Jill put the papers aside. She wondered if there was any point in going behind the scenes of the show at all. You might as well have looked for a needle in a haystack, that was just as hopeless. 

She still wasn't thrilled about venturing into the hustle and bustle of this TV show, but now she was stuck with this job and there was no turning back.

 

The next afternoon, Jill drove to HQ and picked up her press card. She had to take some well-intentioned advice from her co-workers, then made her way to the Lakeside City Hall. 

An unmanageable crowd of people could be seen from afar, consisting of nothing but young women of all ages, from teenagers to those in their late twenties, everything was represented. Everyone chattered and scurried more or less excitedly, and Jill wanted to turn on her heel. 

She resignedly made her way through the crowd until she finally stood in front of the entrance. After showing her press card and being let in immediately, she looked around indecisively. 

Everywhere was hectic activity and she wasn't quite sure where to begin. Apparently the casting had already started, because every now and then girls would pass her, who would either roll over with joy or cry hysterically. 

Curious, she walked the aisles until she eventually reached what looked like the models' dressing room. 

'All right then,' she thought annoyed, 'then into the lion's den.' 

Jill squeezed past a couple of crying girls and looked around in amazement. A number of young women jumped wildly around, some half-naked and about to change, some completely distraught in search of suitable shoes or accessories. Still others sat in front of large mirrors, put on make-up or tried to shape their hair into some grotesque hairstyle. In between, assistants scurried around handing out numbers, giving directions, and trying to keep the chaos under control. 

Shaking her head, Jill stood and watched what was happening when suddenly one of the assistants darted towards her and handed her a dress. 

"Number 132, go change, it'll be your turn!" 

"But... but..." Jill stuttered, confused. "That's a mistake, I..." 

"Go on honey, we don't have forever," the older woman interrupted she vehemently and literally ripped her blouse off her body. 

"No, I..." 

"Don't be so squeamish, you can get out of the habit right now," the assistant snapped at her, and pulled the dress over her head, straightened it and zipped it up. 

"Come on, take off your jeans and head outside." 

Jill, realizing that she didn't stand a chance against this woman unless she wanted to cause a stir, so resigned herself to her fate. 

A few seconds later, her feet were stuffed into a pair of matching shoes and she was given a tag with the number 132 pinned to her chest. Then she was pushed through a door into an adjoining room. 

Then everything happened so fast that Jill hardly noticed anything. Several girls stood in a row near a large curtain and another assistant pushed behind them one by one. 

"Look," Jill turned desperately to the man, "I..." 

"132!" a voice called out from behind the curtain at that moment, and Jill got a shove. 

She stumbled forward, and a second later blinked into the relentless glare of the headlights.