Why Am I Here?

"Pppppffffftttt!"

Jameson Mariotti blew his whistle as loudly as he could. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he realized it was just too damn hot out here to practice. Someone was going to get sick if they kept this up.

The team members all trudged in, dreading the end of practice routine. They all thought Coach Jay was going to make them run sprints. Usually, they wouldn't mind, but today everyone just wanted to go home and spend some quality time with their air conditioners.

Jay cleared his throat, getting the teams attention. "Hit the showers, Capers. Good work today. Drink lots of water- I don't want any of you dehydrated for tomorrow's game."

A ragged cheer went up among the student athletes, and Jameson grinned at their reaction. They were all too tired and hot to even breathe. He laughed at the looks of incredulity on their faces- Coach Jay the Maniac- letting them go early? "I'm just as hot as you are- you always forget I run the drills with you. Go on ahead. Get outta here before I change my mind!"

Jameson decided later that day that that tactic was better then sprints. The whole team ran faster then they ever would in drills to the showers, afraid that 'Coach Jay' would make them actually run in this heat.

After Jameson quickly washed his face and put on a fresh pair of clothes, he grabbed his bag and headed outside. The first thing he saw was the limo. The big, black limo he forgot was coming.

"JAY!" A masculine voice yelled from the car. "Is that the way to attend a premier? For a Used Nike sale maybe, but not my company! Thank god we brought a change of clothes for you in the car!"

Jay groaned. God, why today? He ran over and hopped in to the limo- a few of the soccer players whistling as he did. God knew what was going through their minds. 'Coach Jay, the closeted millionaire!'

He had put this out of his mind for as long as possible- he hated these runway shows his parents managed to drag him too. He got out of most, but this one- no such luck. They had quilted him into submission. The man chucked a pile of clothes at him, and told him to go in the back behind the curtain and change. Letting the public see his own son in breakaways was akin to failure.

Jay looked at the clothes and shook his head. Typical Kale Mariotti. The pile contained a polo shirt, designer jeans that happened to have the Mariotti label on them (Shocker) a nice belt, and fashionable shoes. Would his father let him wear anything else, ever? Probably not... Jay'd go to the grave in a polo shirt if his father could help it.

Resigning to his fate, Jay sat back in the limo, and prayed that the night goes quickly without any major glitches.

By glitches, he meant one of his dads trying to set him up with a nice, handsome, rich, good-looking boy.

Again.

Adriana was pissed- This show was NOT going as planned. The model was late, and as she was rushing into her elaborate outfit, she ripped the zipper. Well, naturally. The gown was the kind only runway models could pull off without looking like a person running away to the circus. While Lina, the model who was due on the runway in 15 minutes, was stitched into her dress, all Adriana could do was pace and wait until she could slap some makeup on the woman and be done with it.

Adriana loved her job. To her, makeup was an art, and each model was her own personal sculpture, molded and created with colors alone. With these colors, her options were wider then the colors of the rainbow alone- by mixing and blending she could create a piece so unique and special, that the only word for it was art. But art takes time.

And Adriana had none of that.

This was Adriana's only hatred of the job. When she couldn't take the time needed to perfect her work, she was forced to sit in the audience and scowl at the sculpture she had created, grimacing at the pieces barely fused together.