“Okay, that’s good. So are you ready to start making me up?”

Her makeup chair, equipment, and mirrors were already set up to our right. Paula had a complete traveling stand that was gorgeous, with lighting and everything. She was a top-notch professional, and I was proud of her.

“Nice setup you have,” I told her with a grin.

“Oh, you know I have to do my thing out here. You can’t be independent and not look like you know what you’re doing. Imagery is half the battle.”

Before I got a chance to comment, a tall, elegant, brown-skinned girl walked up and stood beside us. She wore the same white tank top and white pants as Paula, and suddenly Paula looked her age. This girl was young and fine, the kind of girl who makes an older man wish he were twenty-four again.

Paula looked at her and said, “Oh, TaShay, this is Terrance Mitchell—the model I was telling you about.”

I was immediately impressed. She had the runway height, proportions, bone structure, white teeth, slick hair, perfect brown skin, nose, lips, eyes…

“You were telling her about what?” I asked. I had to say something just to stop from staring at the girl. She had the kind of aura that sucked you in.

“I was telling her how long some models can maintain a career in the business when they keep themselves up and stay busy. And you’ve been one of the most consistent black male models in the game,” Paula answered.

“She said you were around before Tyson Beckford,” Paula’s young niece revealed to me.

“Yeah, but just a little bit earlier. You’re making me feel old,” I told her. I didn’t want her thinking I was older than I was. I was still very much in the game, and not a statue.

The girl smelled good, too. I asked her, “You just put something on inside the bathroom?”

She grabbed her beautiful neck with both hands. “Why, is it too strong?”

I smiled. “Nah, it’s not too strong. It just has that newness to it, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay. Because I was ready to say…”

Paula said, “All right, well, let’s get started making you up, Terrance.”

I took my seat in her makeup chair.

“Well, nice meeting you,” her niece told me with her hand extended.

I took it in mine and said, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna be around me for at least a couple of hours.”

She laughed and said, “I guess so, right?”

When I let her hand go to get my makeup on, she slowly walked away to take in the museum for herself. And as she walked, she showed me some curves.

Paula smiled in my face and asked me, “So, what do you think about her?”

I nodded. “Yeah, you got something on your hands there. How old is she?”

“Nineteen.”

“Turning twenty?”

“No, she just turned nineteen.”

I nodded my head again. “Damn.”

Paula started laughing.

I said, “Well, she’s not…” I had to get my words correct to explain it right. “Well, she is exotic, but she still looks approachable. She has that in-between look. Some exotic women are just to look it. You don’t really want to talk to them. It ruins the illusion. But with…What’s her name again?” I stopped and asked.