by Judith Gould
“You should,” Edwina said quietly. “It’ll broaden our market base to what would normally require three entirely different collections.”
Leo turned and looked at Liz. “Get on the horn,” he said at once, “and call Olympia, Ford, and all the other agencies to see if they’ve got anyone who’s wild and New Wavy.”
“Yes, sir!n said Liz tartly, making no bones about Edwina—not him—being her boss. But she headed for the door.
“Wait, Liz!” Edwina commanded, then turned her attention back to her captive audience. She placed her hands on her hips. “Gentlemen, I believe I’ve already found our Wild Thing, so there’s no need to look any further.”
“Who is she?” Bill Peters, ever the hustling press agent, asked with growing interest. “Is she well-known already? Or do we have to give her the full buildup treatment?”
“Oh, I’d say she definitely needs to be built up,” Edwina said vaguely, remaining standing. “And as for who she is, you’ll see in a moment. Suffice it to say she’s been right under our noses all along.” She paused and smiled mysteriously. “And now, gentlemen, let me produce the rabbit out of my hat.”
The seated men watched as she lifted her telephone receiver and punched the extension for reception. “Val, did my visitor arrive yet? . . . Good. Send her straight to my office.” She hung up and was gratified to see that the men’s eyes had all shifted to the closed door. She had piqued their interest, she knew, or they wouldn’t be waiting with such anticipation. So much the better. She was absolutely certain her Wild Thing wouldn’t disappoint.
“She’ll be here momentarily,” she said unnecessarily.
The words were barely out of her mouth before there were brisk raps on wood.
“Come in,” Edwina called out, and the door flew open and a breathless Hallelujah burst into the room.
“Ma! Like, is everything all right? I mean, I get home from school and Ruby tells me to head straight down to your of—” Hallelujah’s excited chatter abruptly stopped when she saw everyone gathered there, eyeing her with the same close scrutiny a group of anthropologists might give a newly discovered species. “Oops,” she said, ducking her head in embarrassment.
Everyone was transfixed, as though seeing her—really seeing her— for the first time. She was wearing a Keith Haring T-shirt, a ragged-hemmed microskirt, tiger-print tights, and a sleeveless cutoff version of her beloved motorcycle jacket. Her tricolor punk hair was standing up in spikes and her ears and throat and wrists and hands were a rhinestone manufacturer’s dream.
“Sorry,” she said. “Like, I didn’t mean to interrupt you all. Carry on, why don’tcha? I’ll just wait outside, Ma. See ya later!” And with a wave of her hand, Hallelujah popped a giant pink bubble of gum, turned on her heel, and rushed back out as quickly as she had rushed in.
“Hal!” Edwina called after her. “Not so fast. Come back in here, please.”
Hallelujah’s head popped hesitantly around the doorframe. “You’re sure? I don’t mind waiting, y’know?”
“I’m sure,” Edwina said with a Mona Lisa smile, a smile Hallelujah had seen only on the very best and very worst of occasions.
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Jack Petrone muttered to himself under his breath. “It’s her!” His mutter rose to excited incredulity. “It’s really her! Talk about manna from heaven!”
“For crying out loud, Eds,” Leo snapped. “Here you were acting as though you’d come up with the newest thing since laser technology, and you pop your daughter on us!”
“Hal is the newest thing since laser technology, Leo. Trust me. Believe in me. Hal here is the embodiment—the very spiritual pulse, if you will—of today’s fashion-conscious teens.”
“Hey! Ma, what’s this all about?” Hallelujah demanded with narrowed eyes and growing concern. Her mother’s sudden accolades were definite cause for alarm. Perhaps the old girl was overworked. No, that couldn’t be it, Hallelujah decided. Something fishy was definitely up. She could smell it as clearly as a three-day-old cod lying out in the sun.
“Mr. Flood was just expressing his . . . appreciation of your . . . style,” Edwina told her, and said severely to Leo, “Weren’t you, Leo?”
“Of course he was!” Jack Petrone jumped up, strode over to the door, and, taking Hallelujah by the arm, pulled her into the center of the room. Grasping her by the forearms, he asked, “How’d you like to do some modeling?”
Hallelujah’s face lit up like the marquee at Radio City. “Wow! Me? Are you serious? Like you mean really really model?”
“For print ads and a live fashion show. Yes.”
She looked at him with awestruck delight and then turned to her mother.
“You heard the man.” Edwina smiled and smiled. “You’d be modeling just like Billie Dawn here.”
“Far-out!” Then Hallelujah’s eyes narrowed even further with sudden suspicion. “What do I have to do? Cut my hair?”
“Heaven forbid, child! Don’t change a thing. If you do, we’ll be forced to find somebody else.”
Hallelujah couldn’t believe her ears. “Wow! You would?”
“We would.” Jack nodded definitely. “You’re absolutely perfect just the way you are!”
“Awesome!” Hallelujah squealed. “Brilliant! Ma? Didya get a load of that? I like love this guy!”
“You’ll love me even more when you hear what’s in store,” Jack predicted. “Print ads with Billie Dawn. Separate ones with just you for downtown magazines like egg and Interview.”
Now William Peters, who had been studying Hallelujah intently, abruptly shot up out of his tub chair and joined in. “We’ll launch her with a major press party at M.K., make music video ads, book her on the talk shows, modeling Edwina G. outfits, of course—”
“—and give the Absolute vodka agency some competition,” Jack thought aloud, his creative gears whirling, “by doing a series of full-page heavy cardboard ads with Hallelujah paper dolls and cutout Edwina G. outfits to stick on—”
“Whoa there, guys!” Edwina cut in firmly. “I can understand your excitement, but hold it. Just in case it hasn’t sunk in yet, not only is this my show, which I’m running, but that child’s a minor. My very own underage flesh-and-blood minor, to be exact. So cool it, sit down, and let’s discuss this step by step before you get completely carried away. There are things that have to be hashed out. For one thing, we are not going to exploit any daughter of mine.”
“Oh, Maaaaa!” Hallelujah wailed, and shot Edwina a pleading look. “I want to be exploited. I’d love to be!”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Edwina said firmly, “and I do.” Her silver-gray eyes had turned as intractable and stony as the hull of a battleship on a cloudy day.
“Ma, don’t pull a king-size bummer on me. Not after gettin’ me all hepped up? Okay?”
“I’m not, sweetheart,” Edwina said gently. “Trust me. I only have your very, very best interests at heart. If we don’t watch it, these guys are liable to take total advantage of you. Believe me, they only look human.”
“So? I don’t mind doin’ it for nothin’!”
“No, sweetums, no. If you’re going to be putting in an honest day’s work, you’re going to receive an honest day’s pay. Commensurate with the going rate, I might add. Now, then. We’ve also got to work out little snags such as school. The last I heard, it is still in session?”
Hallelujah picked at the dangling belt of her cut-off jacket. “I know that.” She pouted. “It’s no tragedy if I miss a day or two, is it?”
“Just hear me out, that’s all I ask. First off, you don’t know from Adam about modeling.”
“So? I’m a quick study. An’ Billie Dawn can help me!” Hallelujah looked exhortingly at Billie. “You will, won’tcha?” she pleaded, her tawny eyes wide and desperate.
“Of course I will, honey!” Billie declared warmly, draping an arm around her shoulder and giving her a hug. “I’ll teach you myself.”
“Awesome!” Hal
lelujah eyed her worshipfully.
“You also have to be made aware of the realities all this would entail,” Edwina went on, “and before you leap.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hallelujah mumbled, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.
Edwina sighed. “You really don’t have any idea what you would be letting yourself in for. Contrary to popular opinion, modeling is not a glamorous career. It’s damn hard work.”
“So? Who’s afraid of work?”
“I know you’re not, but if you’re hired as a model, then you first have to be represented by an agency. We don’t want any conflicts of interest, do we?”
“I suppose not.”
“Good. That’s why tomorrow, right after school, you’re expected up at Olympia Models. I took the liberty of setting up the appointment already.”
“Far-out, Ma!” Hallelujah cried. “You’re the greatest!” She was hopping feverishly up and down. She could see it already. Fashion shows! Music video ads! Fame!
Chapter 64
Girls, girls, girls.
Live girls standing around or sitting on the gray wool banquettes.
Time-frozen girls staring out from the spotlit brushed-steel frames on the gray wool walls, and up from the fashion magazines spread out on all the occasional tables.
And, behind a sleek laburnum door which was opened or closed by girls going in or coming out, yet more girls, these without glamorous faces, ruthless cheekbones, or lean, marketable bodies. They were seated around a huge round laburnum booking table, with multiline telephones, trays of index cards, and computer consoles and screens at each work station.
Olympia Models, Inc., was a veritable harem of female flesh.
The sight of so many sleek beauties crowded in the reception room stopped Hallelujah in her tracks. Inwardly she quailed. Turning her head, she looked hesitantly at Edwina, who smiled encouragingly before taking her by the arm and leading her to the reception desk. It was manned by yet another striking beauty, this one an ex-model in her mid-thirties whom age and the demand for ever-more-youthful faces had relegated to behind-the-scenes action. She looked up, saw Hallelujah, and reached for an oversize manila envelope. “Speedy Messengers sure deserve their name,” she said, holding it out. “You’re getting faster all the time. Now, this goes to 1301 Sixth Avenue. And for heaven’s sake, whatever you do don’t bend it! There’re photos inside.”
Smiling at the receptionist, Edwina cleared her throat and said, “I’m afraid there’s a little mix-up. You see, my daughter isn’t a messenger. She’s here to see Ms. Arpel.”
The receptionist looked momentarily nonplussed. Blushing slightly, she slowly put the envelope back down. “Oh. I see,” she said. “I’m afraid we aren’t . . . er . . . actively seeking . . . er . . . people her type at the moment. Besides, Ms. Arpel is a very busy woman. No one is permitted to see her without an appointment.”
“I know that,” Edwina said, “and we have one. This is Hallelujah Cooper, and my name is Edwina G. Robin—”
“Oh, gosh!” The receptionist looked stricken. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea . . . it’s just that . . . we so often get walk-ins, you know, and . . .”
“That’s quite all right,” Edwina assured her gently.
The receptionist punched a few numbers on her telephone. “Dolly? Ms. Cooper is here.” When she hung up, she gave a friendly smile. “Ms. Arpel’s secretary will be right out. Oh, here she comes already.”
Edwina and Hallelujah turned around.
The woman bearing down on them wasn’t exactly model material, with her orange Orphan Annie frizz and round rimless glasses, but she was efficient. After introducing herself, she said, “I’m to show you in at once. If you’ll please follow me?”
Edwina and Hallelujah followed her briskly down a short gray-carpeted corridor lined with more spotlit model blowups. At the end, she paused at another laburnum door and knocked twice.
Olympia’s voice came from inside. “Come in.”
Dolly opened it and stepped aside, motioning for Edwina and Hallelujah to enter the spare, brightly lit room. She did not go in. “Is there anything I can get anyone?” she asked from the doorway.
Olympia, phone to her ear, covered the receiver with one hand. With the other she waved at Edwina and Hallelujah and blew them each a kiss. “I’ll be right with you. Things are a little crazy around here today, but what else is new? Just sit. Want Dolly to get you some tea? Coffee? Soda?”
“No, thanks,” Edwina said, and Hallelujah shook her head.
“That’s it for now, Dolly,” Olympia said, still listening to the squawking at the other end of the line. “Just bring me the three copies of the Cooper contract I had you prepare, and hold any more calls.”
“You got it,” Dolly said. As she turned around, she nearly collided with a delivery boy from the local coffee shop.
Olympia motioned him inside. When the kid put the foil takeout container on her desk, she said, “Dolly’11 pay you,” and made shooing motions with her hand. Into the phone she said, “Listen, you want to quibble over prices, you can quibble till you get blue in the face. It won’t sway me. My girls gotta eat. . . . Sure, seven hundred an hour’s a lot of money. Be my guest and call around. See if you can find another Kiki Westerberg at that rate.” She undid the foil container as she talked and tossed the cardboard lid into a high-tech waste container. “Don’t mind me,” she said to Edwina and Hallelujah, covering the receiver again with her hand. “I didn’t have time for lunch.” She scowled at the tuna-and-cottage-cheese platter, selected a carrot stick, took a bite, and lit one of her white-filtered cigarettes. “Yes, Stanley,” she said into the phone. “You’re catching on . . . that’s right. I’m intractable. Do what I said. Call around and then get back to me if you’re still interested. Yeah. ‘Bye.” She dropped the receiver into the cradle. “Christ!” she said in disgust. “You never heard so much yeh-yehing in your entire life.” She looked across the desk at Edwina and Hallelujah, who were seated in the two facing Mies van der Rohe chairs. “You’d think I was asking for his blood. Anyway, sorry to have kept you two waiting.”
“That’s quite all right,” Edwina said. “What are old friends for?”
Olympia stabbed out her cigarette, took another bite off her carrot stick, and cocked her head. She squinted appraisingly at Hallelujah. “Heaven help me, if I hadn’t known you were coming I’d never have recognized you.” She smiled in amusement.
Hallelujah giggled. “It’s the totally awesome new me. Well? Whaddya think?”
“What I personally think doesn’t matter,” Olympia said pointedly as she lit another cigarette. “At least, not in here it doesn’t. If you want to hear my private thoughts on the matter, I’ll tell you. But outside these premises.”
Hallelujah was in rapture. No lecture was coming on, thank God!
There was a knock at the door and Dolly bustled in with three copies of the contract. She handed them to Olympia and hurried back out, shutting the door behind her.
Olympia slid one copy across the glass desk to Hallelujah, another to Edwina, and kept the third one for herself. Stabbing out her cigarette, she picked up her Ben Franklins and pushed them onto the tip of her beaky nose. “As you can see,” she said, looking from Hallelujah to Edwina over the tops of the lenses, “it’s a standard contract. What it basically does is protect the model and this agency.”
“And what about the client?” Edwina quipped.
“I’m not here to represent the client,” Olympia told her flatly.
She’d switched to her business mode, which precluded any light-hearted banter. “My allegiance lies with the model.”
“Have a heart!” Edwina exclaimed.
Olympia eyed her narrowly. “I do, and believe me, it’s only big enough for my girls. Since Hallelujah’s about to become one of them, my sole responsibility is to her.”
“Way to go!” Hallelujah said.
Edwina shot her a steely look. Hallelujah. Her Hallelujah. Her one and only
. And suddenly now, a turncoat rooting against her very own mother! Really! This had all the signs of a major insurrection coming on.
“Now, then,” Olympia continued, oblivious of Edwina’s outrage, “if you’ll look at the first page of this contract, you’ll see that paragraph one empowers me to deal with any parties wishing to retain Hallelujah’s modeling services ...”
Edwina nodded as she carefully read through the paragraph on her copy.
“. . . Paragraph two covers the fact that Hal’s a minor, can work only a limited number of hours per day, and that it’s all contingent upon her legal guardian. In other words”—Olympia looked over her glasses at Edwina—”you.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Edwina muttered dryly.
“. . . Paragraph three indemnifies this agency from liability, damage, and so forth for reasons of breach of warranties . . .” She waited until Edwina had read it through. “Is everything agreeable?”
“So far, it looks kosher to me,” Edwina said.
“Good. Then let’s go on to paragraph four, compensation. You’ll notice it gives this agency a commission of twenty percent, which is the going rate in this business. Also note that compensation is defined to include all forms of income, including future residuals.” Olympia waited until Edwina had read it carefully through. “Any questions yet?”
Edwina shook her head. “No, it spells everything out quite clearly.”
“Now, then. Paragraph five, accounting. Subparagraph A authorizes this agency to receive all monies due Hal, minus the agency commission, of course. Because she’s a minor, I took the liberty of specifying that it be paid into a special trust fund which you will set up for her.”
“Good,” Edwina said. “I was going to suggest that myself.”
“On to subparagraph B, which deals with the agency’s records and bookkeeping. If you have any questions, now’s the time to ask them.”
Edwina read slowly, nodding thoughtfully to herself every now and then. “It’s fine,” she said, flipping it to the next page.
“Which brings us to the last paragraph,” Olympia said. “Six. Term and termination. Subparagraph A states that any and all compensation received from assignments this agency has set up, including future residuals from any such work, will flow through this agency indefinitely.”
