Braless in Wonderland

by Debbie Reed Fischer

  “You really should have your own show.”

  “I know.” Dramatic gasp. “Don’t look, there’s the guy who stood me up last night.”

  “Where?” Of course I looked anyway, but only saw the back of some blond guy.

  “Piece of mierda. Some men are about as useful as a sleeveless turtleneck.” He sipped his coffee. “Okay, so, back to what I was saying. This business attracts survivors, I think, people who’ve made it through rough times and reinvented themselves, like me.”

  “Yeah, well, I better reinvent myself pretty soon or I’ll be outta here.” I told him about Dad’s time limit. “I have to start getting booked, Miguel. Like, tomorrow. Seriously. I have to.”

  “You will, niña. You’ve got the body, the skin, the teeth, your hair is magnif. And now you’ve got the right clothes. You just need to find your ticket.”

  “What do you mean, find my ticket?”

  “Every model’s got a ticket.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’ll give you an example. You know that April girl, the one who books every catalog and every magazine but looks like a starving refugee?”

  “Yeah. I saw her yesterday.”

  “Did you notice her eyes?”

  “No, but they were probably blah like the rest of her.”

  “Take a closer look the next time you see her. Her eyes are such a light green they’re almost yellow, te lo juro, like a golden apple. You can only notice it when she has makeup on. It’s amazing to see on film what she can do with them, what she can express. I’ve seen her book. I’ll show it to you. Anyway, her ticket is her eyes.”

  “So a ticket is like a gimmick.”

  “No. A gimmick is something you make up, work at, like Summer’s dumb blond act.”

  “Um…excuse me, but I don’t exactly think that’s an act, Miguel. She’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, trust me.”

  “No, trust me, she’s dumb all the way to the bank. Gimmicks never last, though, because anyone can have one. Tickets are one of a kind. A ticket is what you already have. A quality only you can wind up and work. It’s what makes you stand out. Entiendes?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, there was this one model, Susie M? She’s in New York now, but she had the whole package, like you, and she still wasn’t getting booked. Then one day she realized she had this dancer’s body, graceful, elegante, you know? Because she’d had serious ballet training since she was like, in diapers or something. So anyway, her booker set her up with this fantastic photographer and she did these nude shots, really artistic, high-concept, great lighting. Guess what happened after that?

  “What?”

  “She blew up.”

  “She got fat?”

  “No, idiota, her career blew up. She, like, doubled her day rate. Her kind of body was unique, like a sculpture or a Thoroughbred racehorse, so she used it. And that, mi amor, was her ticket.”

  “So what’s my ticket?” I couldn’t wait to find out.

  He sipped his coffee, shook his head. “I don’t know, niña. That’s what you have to find out. So open your eyes, girl. But not too much. It’ll give your forehead wrinkles.”

  Beeep: “Happy birthday, Allee. Mom says to say I love you. I stopped wetting the bed. When are you coming home?”

  “No, wait, Robby, it’s Abuela’s turn, don’t hang—” Click.

  Beeeep: “Feliz cumpleaños, Allee. I can’t believe you are seventeen now, almost the age I got married. Dios te bendiga, mi vida. Did you know I was married at eighteen? And did you know I had to quit my job at Wal-Mart because you weren’t here to take me? I could have been a model, you know. Just be careful. It’s a doggy doggy world. They all the time want sexy pictures. Allee, don’t do it. The pictures will end up on the aquanet and then everyone will say you are a puta.”

  Click.

  Another week went by with no work. Just castings. I was more worried than ever about having to go home. I could almost feel the pull of Mom and Dad, sucking me back to Cape Comet. It wasn’t that they wanted me to fail. I knew they were proud of me and wanted me to succeed, but I also knew they were insanely overprotective and wanted me close by. If Mom hadn’t had Robby to take care of, she probably would have moved to South Beach with me. What would my parents do when I went to Yale?

  I was running out of time, so I did some research and came up with a strategy.

  My Strategy to Get Work (as pieced together with advice from various experts)

  1) Say you’ll do anything, and don’t worry if it’s legal. (Claudette and Brynn)

  2) Stop living on granola bars. You’re looking worn out. Switch to protein PowerBars. (Everyone)

  3) Explore a new side of yourself. Be brave. (Claudette)

  4) Never put your contact sheets in the back flap of your book. You don’t want clients to see unflattering shots of you, do you? (Miguel)

  5) Let yourelf go freaky-deaky, drop your inhibitions. It’ll show in your pix. (Claudette)

  6) Videotape yourself with nothing on. Watch and learn your best angles. (Claudette)

  7) Put your schoolbooks down. Glamour, Elle, Allure, and Star magazine are your textbooks now. Watch E! for extra credit. (Miguel)

  8) Watch good models working on a shoot and pay attention. (Summer)

  9) Take an acting workshop. (Everyone)

  10) Check in at the agency often, especially for TV. You want to remind the agents to push you. (Miguel)

  I told The Fluff all about my shopping trip with Miguel. “You should see the little black dress I got. You’d love it. It is so you.”

  “I can’t see you in a little black dress. Oh, guess what?”

  “We’re adopted. I knew we weren’t related.”

  “I’m making a lot of clothes now. There’s, like, this fashion show at school the Key Club is doing, a benefit for the hurricane victims, and they asked me to sew a few of the pieces. You should see me. I’m sewing till one in the morning every night.”

  “When are you doing your homework?”

  “What are you, Mom?” she shouted.

  “Sorry, sorry. That’s actually really cool. I wish I could sew.”

  “I can make you something and send it to you if you want. A dress, maybe. You need clothes.”

  “Okay.” I doubted she was making anything I could wear in South Beach. Cape Comet was so behind the times with clothing. I could really see that now, living here. But she wanted to do something nice for me, and that was cool. “Thanks, that’d be great,” I said.

  Finances

  food (granola bars, cereal, water bottles, Starbucks )??? approx. $100

  rent??? (varies, depending on how many models are here, to be taken out of my first paycheck)

  test shoots $550 (will be taken out of my pay)

  entertainment $0 (Romero Britto gallery was free)

  portfolio and composite prints $300 (taken out of my first pay)

  new clothes $338 (not including $100 Mom and Dad sent for my birthday, so really $438)

  Laundromat??? $20

  makeup/toiletries $120

  waxing, pedi, and mani $130

  Lori Wyman Acting for Commercials Workshop $275

  hair trim, hot oil treatment, and blowout $70

  Dust Buster for vacuuming dropped ashes $50

  magazines $22

  INCOME: $0

  Claudette was at a casting for Dark and Lovely, while Summer, Brynn, and I were at the Ritz-Carlton pool, lying on lounge chairs in bikinis, pretending we were guests. We had snuck in from the beach without going through the lobby. It was Summer’s idea. I spotted a couple of other models here, probably doing the same thing. The girls were long-limbed and the guys were all either lanky or built, with shaved chests and perfect abs. There were some families here too, with little kids running around.

  I was wearing Claudette’s red bikini (the only one that wasn’t a thong) that she’d lent me, high-wedge flip-flops, red lipstick, and a red bandanna for a he
adband.

  Alice was in the house.

  “Why are we going here when there are so many other pools we could go to?” I asked Summer. “Pools where we don’t have to sneak?” I was scared we were gonna get kicked out of here any second. I’m so not a rule-breaker.

  “’Cause other pools don’t have him,” Summer answered. I followed her gaze to a dark-haired, Mediterranean-looking guy wearing a T-shirt that said TANNING BUTLER. It was so tight it was straining over his biceps and chest, about to rip open at the seams any minute.

  “What’s a tanning butler?” I asked.

  “I’ll show you,” said Brynn. “Hey, Jason!” she shouted across the pool, waving. She was chewing her gum cow-style, mouth open, saliva sloshing. “Hey! Over here!” Some sunbathers lifted their heads to see who was making all the noise. We were so getting kicked out of here.

  Jason strutted over to us, flashing bleached white teeth. He gave a little bow. “Ladies.”

  “Hi,” all three of us said, our eyes glued to the muscle dance he had going on under that shirt. He was flexing his pecs. UpDownUpDownUpDown. I had this wild urge to laugh.

  Brynn handed Jason her suntan lotion and went, “Allee here needs you to rub lotion on her back.”

  What?! “No, no, no, that’s okay,” I babbled to Jason. “You don’t have to. I mean, thank you, but I don’t need you to do that.”

  “Oh, yeah, you do,” Brynn said. She pointed at me with her thumb and said to Jason, “Believe me, this loser needs a friggin’ rubdown.”

  “Shoot, Brynn, leave her alone,” Summer said. “Allee’s only seventeen.” Like she was so much older, at eighteen. Still, I was grateful she was sticking up for me like she always did.

  I wanted to get Brynn back. This was what I came up with: “Who are you calling a loser? You’re a loser.” Omigod, I was so lame.

  “I know you are but what am I?” said Brynn, mocking my lameness. Jason just stood there. His pecs started doing the hokey-pokey again. And that urge to laugh came back. Brynn felt it too. I could tell.

  “Uh, you ladies want me to come back?” he asked. Up, down, up down, flex, flex, flex. I couldn’t take it. I clamped my hand over my mouth like a lid and laughed into it. Brynn looked away, but I could see her shoulders shaking with laughter.

  Summer just winked up at him and went, “You can go ahead and put that lotion on my back. And ’scuse these two. They weren’t raised right.” And then she rolled over onto her stomach and let him do his job. Which was to slather lotion all over her.

  Excuse me. She didn’t even know this person and his big man hands were rubbing lotion all over her back? I couldn’t watch. It was like watching them fool around. Brynn had no problem watching, sloshing her gum around. I half expected her to start eating a bag of popcorn.

  I was the only one who was uncomfortable. On the other side of the pool, two women were wearing high-wedge heels, bikini bottoms, big, floppy hats, and chandelier earrings. And no tops. No tops, I swear! And yesterday, I jogged past a shoot on the beach and the model was changing into her bathing suit right there on the sand, just stripped down to nothing with people walking by and everything. In Cape Comet, Hillary High Beams was controversial just for not wearing a bra. But at least she had a shirt on.

  After Jason left, Summer said, “I’ll tell ya what, he had good hands. Allee, you don’t know what you’re missin’.” She looked at the copy of Sense and Sensibility sitting on top of my bag. “You readin’ that for school? Or you jest like it?”

  “I just like it.” I didn’t tell her I’d read it five times. She was already making that you-are-so-strange-for-liking-to-read-school-books face I knew so well.

  Brynn picked up my book and turned it over. “You have a boyfriend back in Rocket Land?” she asked.

  Was she trying to have an actual conversation with me? Maybe she was. “I had one last year, but I haven’t dated in a while,” I answered. Lance and I were on cross-country together, but he’d broken up with me when the season ended. We didn’t have much to talk about, so it was no big heartbreak when it ended.

  “What about here?” Brynn asked. “Guys are everywhere.”

  I shrugged. “Why date anyone here when I’ll be leaving in a few months?”

  “So you read all those old romance books and you’re about as romantic as a friggin’ weather forecast. You don’t even have a boyfriend. I don’t get you.”

  I grabbed my book back. I didn’t always get me either, but she didn’t need to know that.

  I turned away from her and asked Summer, “Did you have to read this for school?”

  “I dropped out,” Summer said. She was a high school dropout! I should have known. That’s why she wasn’t, well, too bright. I’d never known anyone who was a high school dropout. I wasn’t sure what to say. I’m sorry? Sucks for you?

  So I tried, “How do you feel about that?”

  “Best damn day of my life. I went out and had a twenty-dollar party.”

  “What the hell’s a twenty-dollar party?” Brynn asked.

  Summer grinned. “You go to 7-Eleven and get a mess of Slim Jims and Funyuns, kick in a six-pack of beer, and then hit the drive-in.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Brynn said. “I’m hungry.” She spit out her gum with a ftooie and lit a cigarette. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t kicked us out of here yet. This was a fancy place.

  Brynn’s BlackBerry rang. She answered, “Hi, Ma. How was your party last night? Oh, yeah? Who was there?” Then she got up and drifted away toward the beach, with the phone to her ear. She talked to her mother like a best friend. I wished I had that with my mom. At least I had it with my sister now.

  Only about ten minutes had gone by when Brynn hurried back. “I gotta go,” she said, grabbing her bag. “Luca just called. He’s picking me up. I gotta go, I gotta go.” And she rushed off.

  “I don’t know what she’s doin’ with him,” Summer said.

  “I would never let a guy control me like that,” I said.

  Summer stared out at the sparkly pool and said, “Depends on the guy. Depends on what he can do for ya.”

  “Summer, that is so wrong.” I started to talk to her about feminism and what it means not to give up your power as a strong, independent woman. I tried to put it in terms a high school dropout would understand. I thought she was really interested, the way she was listening and not interrupting.

  But then I realized she’d fallen asleep.

  chapter 14

  Dimitri told me that April the Great, Summer, and me were all on option for Uta Scholes. But I wasn’t getting getting my hopes up. My options always got dropped, and the other two got booked on everything. Besides, Summer was sure she’d get it. I wished I was sure of at least one job. A month in Miami and not one. Dad’s deadline was in a few days, and if I didn’t book anything, he’d make me come home.

  I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t even think about what I’d say to people when I went back to school, how I’d explain that this was all a stupid mistake. Who did I think I was, thinking I could model anyway? The worst of it was, if there was no modeling money, there was no Yale. My life was heading south faster than my bank account.

  The agency taped me to see how I appeared on-screen. They wanted to see what I could improve to catch the eye of clients, promising they’d have more commercial castings coming in soon, more for my type. They said it had just been slow in my age range. I did get a callback on a regional Spanish-language commercial for Coke, and was put on option for a German catalog. They needed “teens mit enerchee” but I guess they decided I didn’t have enough, because they dropped the option. Summer suggested I wear my ponytail higher next time so I’d look bouncy. I’d try harder to be upbeat next time. If there was a next time.

  Because time was running out.

  Something had to happen. Soon.

  I went into the TV office and found Momma at her desk, talking quietly to a man in a chair next to her. He was wearing a wrinkled suit and white gym socks
with dress shoes. There was something odd about him. Creepy odd. For one thing, he was doing all the talking. It was like he was talking at Momma, not to her. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the portable radio playing softly on Kate’s desk.

  Kate was on the verge of a nuclear meltdown, as usual. She was such a stress mess, she didn’t even blink when she talked to you. It was really disturbing. “Allee, I’ll tell you what I told your dad. We haven’t had much in your age range for TV lately. But this week we’re expecting two big ones, a Pepsi national and Cingular wireless.”

  I screwed up my courage and asked her, “Yes, but Brynn’s shooting a Diesel jeans ad for Latin America today, so why wasn’t I—”

  “Diesel doesn’t usually book girl-next-door types like you. Brynn’s much, much sexier than you are, more fashiony. You two sort of have the same look, but you send off different messages on film. You’re chalk and cheese in that way, you and Brynn.” I understood what she meant. If the client needed wholesome pie, they saw Summer and me. If they needed the sultry, sexy girl, it was Brynn or Claudette. “Now, we looked at your tape, and Dimitri and Momma decided you shouldn’t cut your hair, but you should wear it off your face more, so clients can actually see you. And you need to wear more makeup as well, blush and eyeliner. You look a bit faded on tape.”

  Did you know it is very nerve-racking when a person looks dead into your eyes and doesn’t blink? “I know, it’s just that uh, well, I haven’t gotten—”

  Beeeeep. A voice came through the phone: “Kate, you have a client on two.” The man stopped talking to Momma and gave Kate a dirty look, like it was her fault her phone rang. He looked really angry. For a second I thought he was going to yell at her, but he just started talking to Momma again. He was making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.