The American Kill Line: I Can Predict the Future

At 5 a.m. in Chelsea, Kate Upton wakes up on the sofa in her shared apartment.

Outside the window, the noise of garbage trucks roared, and the sound of high heels from the mannequin next door still echoed in the corridor.

Thinking about her audition that morning, she quickly got up.

Unsurprisingly, the two roommates started arguing again outside the bathroom.

This building, or rather this apartment building, is full of young models who are similar to her.

The loft, with its peeling paint, was crowded with girls like her.

Everyone is waiting for a phone call, an opportunity, a dawn that will put their name on the cover of a magazine.

After quickly washing her face and putting on some simple makeup, Kate opened her inexpensive handbag.

I counted the change left in my bag and calculated today's subway fare, as well as the possible travel expenses for the audition.

Yes, she didn't receive an audition invitation today.

But she still decided to go to the company and wait.

My mother always said that opportunities never wait for anyone.

She skipped breakfast, bought a coffee at a roadside fast food restaurant, and then boarded the subway.

It's not that I'm not hungry, it's that I need to lose weight.

Her current figure is considered unusual in the modeling world.

Her breasts, in particular, have often become an obstacle in her career.

Previously, some photographers even expressed their disdain with a look:

"Your breasts are too big, you look like a country bumpkin."

These words deeply wounded Kate's pride.

So much so that, at one point, she considered whether or not to have surgery.

Unfortunately, she was penniless.

They can't afford the high cost of this body contouring surgery.

Even the dress she wore to the dinner party last week was rented with the little money she had left for living expenses.

The morning passed quietly.

Kate stood up, and like her fellow models, sadly prepared to leave the company.

"Oh my God, my darling. Kate, why are you still here?"

A surprised voice reached my ears.

Kate turned around and saw a middle-aged woman in her forties.

Obese, greasy, with makeup thicker than the graffiti on Chelsea Street.

What disgusted Kate even more was that this old woman kept encouraging her to unbuckle the photographer's belt.

That's how you take better photos and get better resources.

Although Kate is young, she understands one thing:

If a photographer can easily make someone famous, then his doorstep will be overrun with people.

Despite disliking this middle-aged woman, Kate had no choice but to put on a friendly smile.

"Dear Wendy, I've been in the dressing room the whole time."

Wendy, in an exaggerated tone, grabbed Kate's arm with her large hand: "Oh God, my darling, your chance has come. Come on, come with me, don't ask any questions."

Kate was disgusted, but she had no choice but to leave with the old woman.

A short while later, the two arrived at the meeting room upstairs at IMG.

The moment Kate opened the door and saw the figure inside, her heart sank.

The moment Wendy walked in, her smile was as bright as a chrysanthemum.

"David!"

David is the head of the company's sports department, and he wields considerable power.

He simply nodded slightly, glanced at the girl behind Wendy, and then turned to look at the black athlete beside him with a questioning gaze.

The other person looked at Kate with undisguised excitement, as if she were a lamb.

Kate lowered her head, her eyes filled with deep fear.

I ran into this guy at the company entrance about two weeks ago.

The other person started touching her inappropriately as soon as they met.

And after learning that he was an artist signed with IMG, he not only did not restrain himself, but even threatened that he would kneel down and crawl to his house.

Kate was a little scared, so she asked around.

I only found out then that this guy's name was Asafa Powell.

He is a sprinter and has won numerous international championships.

But that's not what terrifies Kate.

What truly terrifies her is the other side of the other person.

Some say that a model once entered his room and subsequently retired from modeling to undergo long-term treatment for depression.

David noticed Asafa Powell's fondness for the girl and smiled with satisfaction.

"Kate, right? Asafa has an interview with Sports Illustrated the day after tomorrow, and he needs a model to shoot a series of photos for the magazine. Wendy recommended you, so now give me a reason for choosing you."

Asafa Powell's management contract is about to expire.

IMG had been negotiating with him for six months.

After finally reaching a point where negotiations were almost complete, he threw a tantrum just before signing the contract.

He specifically mentioned that only the girl in front of him could calm him down.

Although I don't understand what this guy is doing.

But it doesn't matter, she's just a small-time model.

Quickly appease them and get them to sign the contract.

So when David said this, his tone was casual, more like a command.

After waiting for a moment, Kate did not respond.

David frowned slightly.

Wendy quickly urged, "Kate, what are you standing there for? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

She emphasized the word "opportunity," worried that Kate wouldn't understand, and frantically winked at Asafa's location.

"Wendy!"

Kate took a deep breath and glared at the agent who was trying to push her into a fire pit.

Then she turned her head, her expression stubborn and angry, to look at the two men who disgusted her:

"Mr. David, thank you for your kindness!"

David was somewhat displeased: "Is this your answer?"

He turned his gaze to Wendy.

Wendy was startled: "Kate, are you crazy?"

"Are you fucking crazy? You IMG poached me from Michigan just to serve this piece of shit!"

Kate stopped hiding her anger altogether, and her long-suppressed rage erupted at her agent.

"Kate..."

"Shut up, you disgusting old woman! I'm officially telling you, I'm quitting!"

Her voice was loud and shrill.

Agent Wendy blushed, and after a long pause, she managed to stammer out, "Don't forget, we signed a contract."

"Don't even mention the contract to me! Go talk to my uncle if you dare!"

Wendy suddenly realized something and then slumped her shoulders.

She forgot that the little girl in front of her was not one of those child models who could be casually posed.

A hint of satisfaction flashed across Kate's face. She snorted coldly, pushed open the door, and strode away.

Before leaving, he even gave that disgusting black guy the middle finger.

The meeting room was quiet for a while before David spoke:

Who is her uncle?

……

Kate cried as she left the IMG building.

She knew that her career might be coming to an end.

Walking down the street, she looked so lost.

Feeling wronged, angry, and deeply powerless.

At that moment, she felt more frustrated than ever before.

The young girl who dared to venture into New York with only $200 was completely defeated by this city of steel and concrete.

All she wanted was to go home, to be back with her mother.

Kate took out her phone and opened her contacts.

As the page scrolls, a name catches the eye.

Kate's finger paused, landing on the note that read "Cowboy".

I hesitated for a long time.

In the end, she pressed the call button.

"Waaaaah... Cowboy, your female rider is going to lose her job."

At that moment, cheers erupted throughout Ron's company.

Gold prices suddenly surged this morning!