Second Candidate

                                    

                                          
Jasmine

                          
"That's a wrap! Good work, everyone! You all worked hard!" says the female director after the cameraman gives a thumbs up.

                          
It is Wednesday afternoon and I skipped the second half of school to shoot a TV commercial. I'd been hired to endorse a brand new beauty product called Venus, also known as Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.
                          
Greek Mythology is the theme of today's shoot, which is why the studio is decorated like a set from the film Hercules, with ceiling-to-floor white pillars, grapevines swirling and spiraling over them, granite benches, a large-scale, bone-colored water fountain with an angel statue in the center spitting out water, and authentic bushes and trees and shrubs everywhere.
                          
And it's because of this Olympus-style concept that my hair is coiffed in a long black braid dangling over one bare shoulder. My hair is adorned with lovely white lilies, the sides of my face are shimmering due to the lilac glitter, and I'm wearing a stunning white asymmetrical gown that is traditionally worn by goddesses several years ago, with a high slit that reveals a glimpse of my long, creamy leg with each stride.
                          
Feeling exhausted, I reach for my plastic cup of water and am about to take a sip when-
                          
"Jasmine," calls my eldest brother, dressed in a smart black blazer over a white shirt and slacks.
                          
I lift a brow at Quill before I gulp down all the water, loving the cold liquid swish in my precious throat.
                          
I put down the cup, then meet Quill's violet eyes. Like mine, they sparkle like two amethysts under the light. "If you're here to fetch me as though I'm a child, I'm not permitting you to," I hiss, parting open the large silver paper bag containing my school uniform.
                          
"Here, put these on," he says, holding out a glossy taupe paper bag. 

                          
Irritably, I take the paper bag from his hands. I look at the contents for a second before thrusting the bag into my brother's chest, surprising him.
                          
"I'm going home," I announce with finality, picking up my silver paper bag.

                          
"Jasmine, don't make this more difficult than it has to be," says Quill, his voice impatient.
                          
"This is ridiculous," I say through gritted teeth, my gaze on the beige tiles. "I'm perfectly capable of choosing who I'll marry. I don't need nor want anyone's help. I am not coming to that fucking interview."
                          
"Watch your language, Jasmine!" he warns me, shoving the taupe paper bag into my hands again, somewhat forcefully. "Go change in the fitting room."
                          
"And what if I don't want to?" I glare at him defiantly as I fold my arms in front of my chest. "What are you gonna do, ground me?" I taunt.

                          
In one swift motion, Quill sweeps my feet off the ground, making me scream, "QUILL, YOU CRAZY BASTARD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!"
                          
He deposits me in the fitting room and drops the taupe paper bag on my hands, then he pulls the white door shut with a loud click.
                          
"Damn it, damn it, damn it," I fume three hours later in the fancy restaurant, tapping my shoe in the air impatiently. 

                          
I'm seething, but I'm still glamorous. My hair is in a high, black bun. I'm wearing a strapless black dress that clings to my full curves, my flawless legs fully showcased. My makeup is simple. And dangling around my neck is a gold necklace that glints under glow of the lights.
                          
After thirty more minutes of unpleasant waiting, I reach into my white clutch, slide out my phone, dial a number, and press my phone against my ear. The second Quill answers the call, I speak with deadly calm.