As we walked, two Filipina models approached us in designer dresses, purses, shades, and heels. They were all decked out and ready for their shoots. They even had their makeup ready.

Billy stopped both of them and introduced me.

“This is Terrance Mitchell, one of the first models Mr. Vissel credits for helping to start his agency.”

“Hi,” they both spoke to me.

They were both tall, slim, olive-toned, with long dark hair, and both strikingly beautiful.

I nodded to them. “How are you two doing today?”

“Good right now, but the day is just beginning, so ask us again later on,” the shorter and slightly browner of the two answered.

Billy told me, “Mr. Vissel calls them Tapioca and Cream.”

“Who’s Tapioca?” I asked.

The shorter one smiled. “That would be me.”

I liked her already. She looked like a Filipina movie star.

“Make sure I catch up with you two ladies later,” I told them.

“Okay, Billy knows how to find us.”

“All right, I’ll see you later then.”

When we continued on our way, Billy commented, “They are just some of the exotic women we have here. We have beautiful models from Hawaii, Japan, Brazil, Italy, Mexico, Colombia…” He shook his head and continued to grin. “It’s just amazing, man. I love being here.”

“What, you stay here all the time?” I asked him.

“Just about. I mean, why go anywhere else?”

“Well, how many rooms does this place have?”

“Twenty-nine rooms and six wings,” he answered. “Then there’s the guest house at the back behind the pool. That’s where we’re going now. Mr. Vissel’s conducting several interviews today.”

I couldn’t wait to see him. Marcus had always been full of ideas. It looked like he had finally developed a few that were worthwhile.

When we arrived at the pool area, there were more men and women models in swimsuits taking fun-in-the-sun shots in and out of the extralarge pool. The pool had five sections; a feet dipping area, an adult-size slide, a waterfall area, a shallow end, and a deep end. Around the pool was more than enough poolside furniture for tanning and more pictures.

At center court in the pool area, sitting under a beach umbrella table, was Marcus Vissel. He was wearing dark shades, a white tennis shirt, white shorts, and white tennis shoes and speaking to an attractive female reporter. He looked good and tanned, with a full head of thick, dark hair that contained specks of gray. He was in his mid-fifties and still hip.

As soon as we neared him, Billy raised his hand to get his attention. Marcus acknowledged our presence with a nod.

He said, “In fact, let me introduce you to Terrance Mitchell, one of the first guys I began to pitch to friends of mine in the fashion industry as a top model prospect in the African-American community.”

He was pulling me right into the interview. The reporter looked at me and said, “Hi.”

She was a blond-haired white woman who looked like she could pass for a model herself.