My Sister is a Brocon Supermodel

I was getting ready to head home from work.

I tapped my boss on the shoulder. She was on her phone and just gave me a thumbs-up when I pointed at the wall-mounted clock.

After changing out of my dress shirt, I left the restaurant with only a slightly tight white shirt and my faded jeans.

The sun had already gone down and the dusk was settling in.

Hailing a cab, I gave the address and sat back while taking out my phone.

On Instagram, I looked at the profile of the one person I was following.

My twin sister. Eve Martin.

The most popular rookie model of the year according to Forbes.

Apparently has a guaranteed spot in the two largest fashion shows of the upcoming year.

3.18 million followers.

365 posts.

Her most recent one, she was staring sultrily at the camera with one hand caressing her long, wavy auburn hair.

424,957 likes, 73,052 comments.

I sighed, putting away the phone.

How long has it been?

Three years ago, on the dot?

Three years ago, my sister disappeared from my life.

–––– Flashback ––––

It's a gorgeous day out.

We're currently sitting on a bench conveniently placed in the middle of Brooklyn Bridge.

It's our fifteenth birthday and Eve had me take us to the Bridge for some pictures.

I take out my half-cracked phone and begin taking pictures of her in a mock cameraman pose. She plays along, getting into all sorts of poses while giggling.

She starts telling me to get in the frame too when a man stops near us.

He has crew-cut hair and an expensive-looking suit on.

"I would like to speak with the girl about a possible modeling career."

Model?

I look towards Eve. I unconsciously grab her hand and the man hesitates.

"Alone, preferably."

"No thank yo-"

"Sure!"

I try to leave but my sister breaks free of my hand and smiles. "I'll be fine Adam, it's just a talk. I won't be long don't get too lonely!"

I stick my tongue out at her.

I watch them move a slight distance away and turn towards the view.

Ahhh.

I can't take it and start pacing around.

After half an hour, they seem to have finished their talk and are walking towards me. Eve runs over and gives me a tight hug.

"I've got a job!"

I pinch her cheeks.

"Are you an idiot? This guy's probably just some scammer."

She shakes her head while moving away from my hands.

"No, no, no, this guy's legit. He gave me a business card and I recognized the name from one of the billboards. He said he's Ford's top model scout."

This girl...

"You realize business cards can be easily faked! I swear, you're just soooo gullible."

She sticks out her lower lip. "Are you calling me an idiot? Anyways, all he wanted was a single photoshoot later today. We're already here so why not? It's just a little time."

I just turn away having lost any more motivation to continue arguing.

To be honest, Eve having a job would be a lot easier on our funds. There haven't been many building projects lately and it'll be hard to maintain our current lifestyle without a new job.

We wait for an hour and the man comes back, this time with a whole team. They have cameramen, all sorts of lighting equipment, makeup artists, and even a portable wardrobe.

They hand over an outfit to my sister and have her put the clothes over a makeshift curtain they created.

After applying makeup I can't say I'm not shocked at how beautiful she looks.

Even the so-called "top model scout" looked slightly taken aback at her looks.

Now that got me.

Surely this man is surrounded by beauties yet to have a reaction to my sister?

I always knew her looks were peerless but I felt a little proud at the confirmation in front of me.

After getting over their initial surprise, they quickly get to work.

Partitioning off a small part of the bridge, they begin taking pictures of my sister, the man telling her how to make different poses.

Within the hour, they finish the photoshoot and everyone looks really pleased.

Especially my sister.

She's practically glowing.

The man tidies up the crew and leaves, but not before handing me a business card and telling us to expect a meeting.

And then the next day, the man came back.

The top people at Ford Models loved my sister and immediately wanted to hire her.

They handed me a 70-page contract that would effectively bind my sister to their agency for the next three years.

The man said he wanted my sister to go through a little bit of training before starting her official photoshoots. At my skepticism, he assured me that this would all be paid for by the company.

"Think of it as an investment on our part." He had said.

Now I didn't have a lawyer nor the time to be reading through this contract.

The man had arrived only fifteen minutes before I was supposed to leave for work.

We had just gotten a new building offer and the bosses wanted me there as soon as possible to get it started.

I left the delegation to my sister and rushed out the door, making her promise to keep in touch.

And that was the last time I saw my sister for three full years.

When I came back home from work that night, I came back to an empty house.

A note was left on the kitchen top.

** I'll keep in touch! xoxo your cute little sister **

But she never did. For three years, I had yet to receive a single word from her.

Sure I tried calling her, but the first time I did, the automatic caller had said the number had been discontinued.

I didn't even know how famous my sister was until the first year had passed.

I had randomly seen her on a billboard wearing a bikini during one of my commutes and had nearly tripped into the busy street.

Upon further investigation, I realized her name yielded millions of hits on Google.

She was the fastest-growing model in the whole fucking world!

What the fuck is this?

I found my sister's social media links and downloaded the respective apps for them, wanting to give as much support as I could. Of course it was pointless. She already had a huge following. She'd never notice AMartin2003.

At least she seemed happy, from the photos that I could see.

That made me feel better.

–––– End of Flashback ––––

The cabbie stops the car and parks it in front of a high-rise.

It's modern and covered in glass windows.

I thank the man and give him some extra tip.

I wasn't rich by any means but I was actually quite well-off.

A new job and only having to support a single man's lifestyle made for a surplus in my bank account.

I'm a die-hard penny pincher so my apartment was pretty spartan with only a few pieces of furniture. The only nonessential I had bought was a couple of frames for any magazines I had found my sister in.

Those were all displayed in the living room.

I enter the building's lobby and a woosh of cold air meets my face.

The door guard doesn't even move from his desk, his eyes transfixed on the mini television in the corner.

I punch in the button for the elevator and wait for it to arrive.

The annoying lobby music is giving me a headache when the doors finally open.

Leaning back against the mirrored wall of the elevator, I press in my floor number.

I yawn and close my eyes until I hear the tell-tale ding.

I walk out of the elevator and up to my room, fumbling the keys out of my pocket.

Today was a busy day at the restaurant and I am so ready for a nice, warm bath.

I finally take out the right key and stick it in the keyhole, twisting it.

Hmm?

It isn't locked?

I clearly remember locking it this morning.

I cautiously open the door.

There's a new set of shoes that are clearly not mine.

At least, I don't recall buying a pair of expensive-looking heels.

The lights are on and I step into the living room.

And there she is.

A woman with long wavy auburn hair.

She has on jean shorts showing off her long legs and a thin patterned blouse.

Her feet are up on the small table and she's fumbling with her phone while sipping from an iced water.

She doesn't look up from the phone, though her eyes slightly narrow after seeing me.

She just points to a note left on the table.

* Don't enter the room marked Eve. I'll kill you if you do. *

Yep.

This uninvited guest is my twin sister who I haven't seen in a year.

––––––––––––

A.N. MC's name is Adam Martin. This is based in New York City.

No I haven't dropped my other work. I'll just be slowing releases down for that one cause I wanted to write this pretty badly.

Why doesn't he call the police instead of walking in? Cuz plot armor. Also mc is doesn't have good history with the police

Why isn't he forced to go to school / truancy laws? (incoming bs) --> mc is dropped out (will be explaining in later chapters). why no law enforcement action? Cuz plot armor. But lets say that NYPD has a helluva lot more shit to do than worry about one kid missing out on school.

How does he get a job at age twelve? Cuz plot armor. Let's say the company is especially desperate for new hires for mc's first job. 

Anyways, I am not a model nor do I work in fashion industry.

So why am I writing something about models if i don't know anything about them? Cause i got fking horny after scrolling through my twitter feed and thought damn it'd be pretty funky if you dated a model. still debating whether imma add real models into the story.

Most of this plot will be PURE bullshit. Like I have no clue what models do other than showing up on magazines and shit. So don't expect some insanely accurate detailed explanation of the modeling industry.

This novel is solely for my own self-gratification idgaf.

If you don't fuck with people having a lot of "lovers" or girls in love with him then this is not the novel for you.

Is MC an asshole? For stealing women's hearts? Maybe. But he's not doing none of that redo healer type shit or malicious manipulation. Maybe he'll be doing stuff like blackmailing but it won't be for someone to sleep with him ya get me.