Olga was right: VIP was a blessing, if for nothing more than keeping out the crazy fans. I wasn’t in the mood to pretend to care about who wanted a selfie or had dreams of being a real model one day. Of course, it also meant tons of free shit. Club promoters were always happy to throw in a few complimentary bottles with the booths if that meant they could name drop celebs who’d be at their venue that night. Nina hadn’t hesitated to say I would be amongst the group, and the manager immediately began promising to take “good care of us” during our visit. I couldn’t lie, it still felt pretty cool to get that reaction. I’d only been signed with my agency for a couple of years, but I’d blown up rather fast with the help of my Simstagram account, making me one of the most sought-after print and runway models in the country. Getting fawned over was definitely my favorite part of the gig, as long as I had an escape route once I grew tired of it.