Everything You Want

I laid my head back against the headrest and closed my journal. My eyes flickered to the small window beside me, but all I could see was the ocean still. I put the journal and pen into my small carry-on bag, and relaxed into the seat.

That had been the last time I’d seen Norman. I took a taxi to a hotel room that night, and two days later I had a one-way flight booked for my old hometown- London. I had gotten Sean to pack up all my things from Normans home in LA where we lived, and requested he have them all –save for the two suitcases full of necessities- shipped to London once I got a place there. Norman had explained what had happened after I left them that night. Norman had continued to call, text, and email me every day for the next two weeks- he wanted to know if I was okay, where was I, if we could talk, that he was sorry, that he loved me…

He even enlisted Sean’s help, but I continued to ignore him. I never once turned back, and after a month of him habitually attempting to get in contact with me the daily calls and messages dwindled down to once every few days, once or twice every month or so, to finally nothing at all. That had been ten years ago, and I was still living in England. I had a flat in London, close to Traffalgar Square, and I had gotten a degree in Visual Art. I paid for my schooling myself by money I’d saved, and I worked during the week as a bartender at one of the local London bars, and after several months in London a modeling agency begged for me to dip my hand in modeling. It took a lot of persuasion, but eventually I gave in.

Turns out, I loved it and was damn good at it. I was booking go-see’s regularly, and before I knew what was happening I was working for Prada, Vogue, Cover-Girl, and a few other high-end recognized names. It was exhilarating.

Sean had seen me on a magazine in New York before I’d even been able to tell him what I was up to in Europe. He called me around 3 a.m. my time, demanding to be filled in with everything here. I felt horrible for dropping off the map to Sean- it hadn’t been intentional at all, but between the time difference and wanting to forget Norman, it had slipped my mind that I was also ignoring Sean.
Norman had tried to contact me sporadically, and that’s how I knew he’d seen or heard of my success. We had even been in a magazine together- he had a three page article about him, and then flip the page and on the back was a photo of me selling a make-up product. It had been over a year since I’d heard anything from Norman, and I was praying Sean hadn’t slipped up and mentioned that I was going to be in New York City for the next three weeks.

There was a soft beep, indicating the pilot or co-pilot was about to speak.

“Please fasten your seat belts, we will begin our descent to New York City in the next twenty minutes. Estimated arrival time, 7:43 p.m. Again, thank you for flying Delta and we hope you’ve had a great trip.”

True to the pilots word, at 7:43 on the dot, the large jumbo-jet landed on the strip at NYX. First class exited first, and I was thankful I’d spent the extra cash- I was beyond sick and tired of the plane. I gathered my belongings, and shuffled out the plane with a ‘thank-you’ to the flight attendant and handshake with the pilot. I got through baggage claim without a problem, and when I stepped out of the terminal I immediately spotted Sean.

He stood with a huge sign saying, “I miss my sis”, and there was a large crowd of fans huddled around him. I grinned to myself, and leaned against a pillar for a few moments watching him interact with them. He was in the middle of telling a story, and he glanced around at them all- and his eyes flickered over to me. A huge grin spread across his face, and he froze. All the fans turned to look in my direction, but I kept my eyes locked with Sean. I smiled back, and gave a little wave.

He dropped the sign, and hopped over the row of chairs between us before picking me up in his arms.

“Oh, my God. You’re here,” he whispered, and I let myself relax in his embrace. After a moment, he put me back down, and turned to his group of fans with an arm slung over my shoulders.

“So, I’d like you all to meet my beautiful amazing cousin- McKenzi. She’s a model in Europe, and an artist,” Sean said proudly, and I gave them a small smile.

“What brings you to NYC?” a kind looking man asked, and I shrugged with one shoulder.

“I missed Sean, for one thing. For another, I have several different photo-shoots and runways I’ve got to do. My agent wants me to start working towards being a, er, ‘Top-Model’.” I said, using air quotations.

“There's been rumors floating around..Are you doing anything with Victoria’s Secret?” asked another man, and I glanced up at Sean with a small giggle. His expression was utterly priceless- one of shock, and paranoia. His wide eyes looked down at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Well, possibly. I have a meeting with one of their bookers, but if I’m being completely honest… that’s not my thing, really.”

“If you lovely people don’t mind, I’m sure she’s extremely tired and we have a lot of catching up to do since I’ve seen her last… a good ten years ago,” said Sean, being polite as ever to his fans. Most of them began to disperse, thanking Sean and I before leaving. Sean grabbed the handles of both my suitcases and motioned for me to follow him.

We hadn’t moved ten feet before a couple other’s approached us quickly.

“I’m really sorry, but do you think I could have a picture, Miss Kamden?” I glanced up at an older man with a scruffy beard and a distinguishable British accent. I sent an apologetic smile at Sean, who simply was beaming.

“Of course,” I said softly, and shrugged off my pack into a seat. He pulled out his iPhone, and held it
in-front of us. I kept a stoic face, but smized for his photo. He snapped it quickly, and pulled it up to inspect it.

“Thank you so much,” he said, and I nodded.

“Here, let me snap one for you, too,” said Sean, and the other man grinned. I playfully rolled my eyes. “Hey, Kenz, strike a pose.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” the man laughed, and I shook my head at the two. I draped one arm over his shoulder, and tilted my head to the side- my eyes fixed on the man I was posing with.

“You look straight at me,” instructed Sean. “And, Kenz, well, just move your head a little to me and put your other hand on your hip.”

I inwardly giggled at my cousin playing photographer, but I complied. A moment later, Sean snapped the picture and we broke apart. He handed the man his phone back, and with a quick thank you he disappeared.

“You get that a lot?” asked Sean, picking my suitcases back up and I grabbed my bag.

“Not as much as you do,” I grinned, elbowing his ribs. “You’re great with your fans.”
He shrugged, and I followed him towards the airport exit.

“I parked out front; car’s waiting.”

I nodded, and when we reached the front Sean and I both froze momentarily. Paparazzi were crowded around the doors.

“Damn,” swore Sean, running a hand down his face. “I was hoping they wouldn’t do this.”

I shrugged with a sigh. “At least I put make-up on before the flight landed. C’mon, let’s just get this over with.”

He nodded, leading the way out.

Instantly, cameras were flashing and reporters were talking.

“Miss Kamden, is it true that you’re being looked at as the new face of Victoria’s Secret?”
“How long will you be staying in New York?”
“Why the ten year absence?”
“Will you be re-connecting with longterm beau, Norman?”
“How do you feel about his performance on The Walking Dead?”

I squeezed closer to Sean, wrapping one of my hands around his forearm, and pulling my large Aviators over my eyes.

“I’m back in New York for business and to see family,” I said firmly. “I don’t even know what The Walking Dead is, and I couldn’t give a damn about Normans ‘performance’ on it.”

Several reporters were taken aback slightly at my response, but they were back at the questions immediately.

Sean tugged me away, and I followed close on his heels. We pushed through the crowd, and before they could follow us Airport Security was ushering them away. Sean tossed my suitcase into the trunk of his Mercedes, and I hopped in the front.

If that was any indication to how my stay in NYC was going to be, this was going to be one hell of a trip.

It was a short drive from the airport to Seans apartment, and I was thankful for that. I was beyond ready for some sleep, and a good shower.

“Do you seriously not know what The Walking Dead is?” asked Sean, pulling into the parking area for his apartment complex. I nodded my head.

“I’ve heard of it once or twice, but I found out Norman was on it so I refused to watch it.”

“Well, he’s in Georgia right now filming but he’ll be back at the end of the week.”

I shrugged indifferently. “I’m not going to see him. I don’t care if you wanna hang out with him, but I have no desire to.”

Sean shifted uncomfortably, handing my backpack to me as he rolled the suitcase towards the complex. “You two really need to make up.”

“Nothing to make up about. There’s no hard feelings, I just don’t want to see him. It’s like I told that reporter, Sean. I’m here for business, and family. That’s all.”

With a sigh, he dropped the topic but I knew the discussion was far from over.

Sean helped me get my things situated in his spare bedroom, and he left me to sleep off the jetlag. I was thankful, and utterly exhausted. I had my first photoshoot of the trip at 6 a.m. sharp the next morning, and if I wanted to do well I needed to sleep. I showered quickly, and slipped into one of Seans t-shirts before crashing for the night.

My alarm clock sounded at 5 the next morning, and I reluctantly got out of bed with a groan. Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed with my hair in a messy bun. The apartment was filled with the smell of breakfast, and I grinned a little at Sean. He was dressed already and filling two plates with food, talking in a hushed tone on the phone.

When his eyes caught me, he smiled.

“Yeah, man, I’ve gotta let you go. My cousin is up and we gotta get her to her photoshoot,” he said, handing one plate out towards me. I graciously took it, and hopped onto the stool. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He slid the phone into his back pocket, and sat beside me.

“How’d ya sleep?”

“Like a baby. I definitely did not want to get up this morning,” I admitted, shoveling food in my mouth as quickly as him.

“Whose takin’ your photo’s today”

“Tyra,” I grinned, and he almost choked on his orange juice.

“Tyra Banks?”

“The one and only,” I confirmed.