Perpendicular (RusEng)

“You’re too square.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“I’m sorry?”

Ivan hardly looked up from the stack of portfolios on his desk. “You’re too square to model.”

Arthur looked down at himself. He looked back up at Ivan. “I’m sorry, but you’re rejecting me because I have the body type you specifically requested? I printed out the job description, I can show you—“

Ivan smiled, setting down the portfolio he was flipping through. “I am sorry, Mr. Krinkland—“

“Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.”

Ivan’s smile widened. “Mr. Kirkland, then. Unfortunately, you are not what I am looking for to model in the fall show. You have the required dimensions, but you’re just…”

“Square.” Arthur grabbed his clothes and pulled them on, gritting his teeth. “Next time, maybe you should change your call description. Sorry to have wasted your time.” He nodded, once, trying to maintain the illusion that he hadn’t just insulted Ivan Braginski, but whatever damage was done was done.

It wasn’t easy being a model. Arthur had some breakthroughs early in his career, but lately it had mainly been rejections. A new male model—Alfred F. Jones, from America, the twat—had swept into town and swept all of the contracts away with him.

London seemed more dower whenever Arthur got rejected. It had rained overnight, but the sun was shining. Humidity dragged at Arthur’s clothes and skin, and he had to take off his jacket and frown at the summer sky, pray for some cool rain.

Arthur’s mood didn’t improve much over the next month. His portfolio had been done-over by an expert, trying to give Arthur the appearance of washboard abs and a chiseled jawline. But Arthur never really saw the point of persistently working out when there were people with amazing bodies already.

Plus, Arthur had a tendency to snack on tea cakes.

So, Arthur worked out and snacked on cakes, and nothing really seemed to change. Model calls, auditions, rejections, summer weather, tea cakes, weight training.

And then, Arthur was back in front of Ivan.

Ivan sat behind his desk, smile mild. Despite being a fashion designer, he wore a simple suit and scarf. An out of season scarf, Arthur noted grumpily as he entered the modeling room. He stripped to his boxers, watching Ivan looking over his portfolio.

Arthur disliked white interview rooms. They washed him out, so he had to overcompensate with his walk and interview skills. Arthur wasn’t really an interview person, but he threw on a smile and hoped Ivan had forgotten their previous meeting.

“Kirkland!” Ivan greeted when Arthur stood in front of the desk. “You’re still looking square!”

Arthur fought to keep his eyes from rolling. “Mr. Braginski. Your body specifications were similar as to your last call. Hopefully, our interactions can be more…” Ivan tilted his head, and Arthur thought he had a very oval face. “Civil.”

Ivan’s head ducked when he smiled. “You may show me your walk.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur turned and shook out his shoulders. Then, he walked, trying to do his best to show a variety in strides. He hoped that the room wasn’t wreaking havoc with his complexion. How many models had Ivan seen today? Perhaps—

“You’re still very square.”

Arthur turned mid strut, eyebrows knitted together. “Oh, what does that even mean? You asked for less chiseled, I provide, and yet you’re just looking at me like I showed up for a position that required me to be a hundred-ninety bloody centimeters.”

“How tall are you?”

Arthur waved his hand. “You read my portfolio.”

Ivan’s head ducked again as he grinned. “You know, that Jones character came around to audition. He is very…”

“Long? Oval? Circular as opposed to rectangular?”

“Annoying.”

Arthur nodded, finally agreeing with something this chap had to say. He wondered if he could put his clothes on, if there was going to be an interview, or if Ivan was talking with him to stall from having to look at another twenty half-naked men. Arthur wouldn’t have minded the job himself.

Arthur felt Ivan’s eyes looking him over. It wasn’t a particularly new feeling, and Arthur gazed evenly back until Ivan had finished assessing him. The designer nodded to himself.

“I’ll have to add some corners to some of my clothes, but you can show up to a fitting next week. My secretary will email you.” Ivan flipped through Arthur’s portfolio. “You had many more contracts a few years ago.”

Arthur grunted, walking over to his pile of clothes and unfolding them. “Yes, Antonio—er, Carriedo and I were in high demand. It was mainly accepting contracts from brands trying to snub the other one. Contracts were offered at double the other brand’s…” Arthur buttoned his shirt, wishing he hadn’t chosen a dark green.

“And now?”

Arthur snorted. “I’m too square.”

“You are very upset over that comment.” Ivan adjusted his scarf. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a comment on your…”

Arthur paused in the middle of knotting his tie. “My what?” There was a hesitation, and Arthur looked up to Ivan looking very torn. The expression changed to a smile. “My what?” He repeated, a little more defensively.

“You seem tense. Like… Well, like you could use a drink.”

“Are you offering? No, never mind, are you buying?”