by Anne, Betsy
Ouch. Even though I know where she’s coming from, it doesn’t hurt any less. I don’t want to hurt anyone either, so I’ll put my dating life back on hold. I text Justin, and apologize for my behavior. I let him know that when I get my head sorted out, I’ll call. That’s the best I can promise for now.
* * *
Monday morning, I start my search for a new agent. I called Deb back in New York to see if she knows of anyone here locally. She begs me to come back, she claims she’s had many offers for me, but I can’t trust it. Plus, I really do love it here. If I couldn’t get my daily squeeze from Baby Lou, I’d be crushed.
She emails me a list of names based in Chicago, and I start alphabetically. Almost everyone I speak to knows who I am, and praises Deb. I have three appointments scheduled for the upcoming week. I feel a jolt of electricity thinking about what I’ll wear, and how fun it will be to step in front of the camera again.
I’m encouraged by two successful meetings on Wednesday, with offers of representation, and today is the third. This one is considered the top agency in Chicago, and not affiliated with the larger ones in New York. My meeting is with Barry Bridgewater, one of the founding partners of Bridgewater Talent. Their offices are in a tall, gleaming building on Michigan Avenue. The reception area and offices are tastefully decorated in muted colors and soft fabrics, all meant to blend in to the background so the models stand out. I get it.
I’m sent from reception to the bank of solid glass elevators. I hate heights, I have to keep my eyes focused on the buttons and not the sight of floors whizzing past. As I reach the top floor, the doors open and I’m greeted by a handsome, rather imposing man.
“Rebecca London! I am so thrilled to meet you. Big fan of your work. Please come with me to my office,” he says as he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me down the hall. He seems nice enough. Time will tell.
“So, tell me what what I can do for you today. What is it that you’re hoping to achieve out here in the Midwest?”
“Well, I’m no fool. I know that news travels fast in our world. You must know all the details of my break-up with Embrace. I’m looking to put that behind me, and do more local work. I’m not interested in making a name. I’ve already done that. I just want some work to keep me out there for a while.”
He stares at me from a reclined position in his desk chair, sits up straight, and taps his fingers on his desk.
“Yes, I did hear of your unfortunate situation. We’ve both been in this business long enough to know that things are never as they seem. I’m interested in representing you. You’re a stunning woman, and I know a number of campaigns I think would be a great fit for you.”
We chat for a long time. We know quite a few of the same people since he was in New York for school and early in his career. I feel good about letting him rep me. This may work out just as I’d hoped. We say our goodbyes, and as I rise to leave he gives me a firm handshake.
Before he releases my hand, he remarks, “You may want to shed about twenty.”
Motherfucker.
* * *
A few months later, my first job is for a regional chain of high-end jewelry stores that carries all the top name brands. Not a bad gig to be draped in diamonds a couple of hours each day. I did take Barry’s advice, and I lost the weight I had put on since moving here. To the layman’s eye, I was skinny, but to the modeling agent, I may as well have had a “wide load” sign on my backside. This campaign has me naked wearing the jewelry, so it provided the extra incentive to shed the weight the camera would have picked up.
Mel comes with me on my shoots, almost like a road manager. She’s quite a tough cookie, and she watches my back. I really could have used her in the early days. At my insistence, she brings Baby Lou along. I’ve got it bad. I can’t stand to go more than a couple of days without seeing her. Her sweet little face lights up and she giggles when she sees me. She’s beginning to walk, and Mel fusses at me when I hold her too much.
“Put her down occasionally, Bec. The poor child won’t ever learn to walk if you don’t! You’re spoiling her. She expects that from us when you’re not around,” Mel says, trying to sound firm, but she’s smiling. I know it makes her happy to see her child so loved.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Mel. Please feel free to say no, but it’s a great opportunity I think. Barry called, and told me that a photographer on my last shoot saw me with Lou, and put my name in to do a series of ads for a national baby-store chain.”
“Wow, Bec, I didn’t think you wanted to do national print.”
“Well, they’re headquartered here in Chicago, and they use a local ad firm so no traveling is involved. There’s another thing. The reason they want me, is because they saw me with Lou, and they want us both. The photographer fell in love with her, and saw how natural we were together. It’s a package deal. No Lou, no me,” I say, not wanting to sound like I’m pleading, but I am. I’d love nothing more than to do this with her.
“No, Bec. You know I hate that kind of stuff. I don’t want my baby’s face plastered all over the place. Social media is bad enough, but a national campaign? I can’t imagine Brian would be too thrilled about it, either. He’s very protective of her, you know.”
“And I’m not? I get it, Mel, I really do. I wouldn’t even mention it if it were shady in any way, but this company is very well-respected, and their ads are beautiful. We could even suggest that she only be seen from the side, so she wouldn’t be recognized. You know I’ll make sure she’s protected. Barry can represent her. Just think about it as earning a little money toward college. Will you think about it?”
“OK. Let me discuss it with Brian. When do you need to know?”
“Fairly soon. They want the campaign to run near end of fall, so we’d start shooting as soon as you sign the contract. I promise to protect her, Mel. I’ll guard her privacy and yours with my life. I’d just love to have this special little thing with her. I’ll never ask to model with her again, I swear.”
After a round of discussion, Melanie and Brian grudgingly decide to allow Baby Lou to do the shoot with me.
“Only because you’ve been so incredible with her, and so giving of yourself to us and the boys, did we agree. I fought a little on your behalf. I owe Brian some ‘favors’ of the sexual variety. You’re just lucky he’s hot as hell, and I’d do them anyway!” She laughs, and I know she’s kidding. She doesn’t mess around when it comes to her family, so I know how difficult this decision must have been.
“Thank you, Mel. We’ll make it fun, I promise.”
* * *
The shoot goes even better than expected. Baby Lou is in a great mood, and smiles and snuggles as if on cue. We have a number of different wardrobe changes, and she cooperates like an old pro. Mel has stayed in the back, allowing me to direct the shoot with the photographer uninterrupted. We know that the faster we get through it, the better shots we’ll get. He takes an exceptional number of photos so that Baby Lou wouldn’t have to go through this again, and quite a few different set-ups that can be used for any ad they want.
Mel finally relaxes when we finish up; she looks exhausted. I really owe her and Brian a big one.
“I have an idea,” I say to her as she gathers up all of Baby Lou’s toys and clothes. “To thank you for allowing this craziness, why don’t you let me stay with the kids while you and Brian take off next weekend. It’s his bye week, right? I know he’d love nothing more than to have you all to himself for a full weekend.”
“Our life has been a little crazy since we got married and had the baby, so it sounds like heaven. But I can’t ask you to do that, Bec. Trust me, it’s a lot.”
“You think I don’t know that? The boys are wonderful, and they always listen - to me at least. This little peanut won’t leave my arms,” I say while rubbing Lou’s little patch of curls at the top of her head. “Come on, you could use it, and I know it would mean the world to Brian.” I know her soft spots better than she
does.
“OK, thank you, Becca. It sounds so nice. We’re officially even.”
I pack a small overnight bag and head over Mel’s house on Friday. The boys have flag-football games on Saturday, and Katie and Jason will have them for the better part of the day. Brian and Mel have decided to go up to Wisconsin to a bed and breakfast on Lake Michigan.
I order pizza for us, and after Lou goes to sleep the boys and I stay up and play video games. I love these guys; they are so sweet around me. Brian’s influence has rubbed off on them considerably. Their jerk of a dad, Chris, continues his same erratic behavior, but their home life is stable and full of love. It warms my heart to see them happy.
Saturday morning is like trying to put out a four-alarm fire with nothing but spit. They are all over the place, trying to find uniforms, and round up snacks and water bottles. I thought I got up early enough to make them breakfast, but all I have time to do is to spill Lucky Charms into bowls and splash milk at them. Katie comes over, assuming I may need assistance, thank God, and helps get everyone out the door. Poor Baby Lou is upset in her highchair watching the madness around her. Mel makes this craziness look easy. Once the chaos is removed, I take a moment to pick up the house, and feed Lou her breakfast. She’s still sniffling from her earlier crying jag from when I wasn’t holding her before. It’s quiet so she calms down as I sing and feed her some scrambled eggs. I need a good shower this morning. Wait, how am I supposed to shower? Who watches her while I’m in there? Crap. No shower. I guess I’ll have to wait until she naps.
I put some clean clothes on Lou, and wipe her face as best I can while she wiggles. I’m about as good as I’m going to get this morning with my yoga pants and a T-shirt. I want to take her to the neighborhood park down the street, so I throw on my socks and shoes. I don’t care what I look like; no one really knows me here anyway.
She climbs into her stroller and off we go. The downtown park is a little farther to walk than I thought. It’s such a nice day, I don’t mind. I packed her enough juice and snacks to last through a blizzard. It’s busy out here, with the weather being so nice, everyone had the same idea. I hear a “click” and see that my little angel has taught herself a new trick; she can unbuckle the stroller belt buckle. She wiggles out, and gives me the “chase me” look and tries to run. The best she can do is waddle a little faster than her toddling speed, thank goodness. The boys have taught her how to play chase and hide-and-seek. Even at just one, she picked it up fast.
I grab the diaper bag and abandon the stroller to follow her. I let her believe I’m giving chase, and that elicits the cutest squeal and she tries to pick up the pace, which sends her tumbling forward. She starts to cry, and I drop the bag like she’s been shot. I scoop her off the ground, and she doesn’t even have a scratch. I kiss her tears, and she wiggles to get back down and begin the game again. Dear God, how does Melanie do it? The post-traumatic stress from the morning madness is dragging me down. My half-cup of lukewarm coffee isn’t pulling its weight today; I’m going to need something stronger.
There’s a little coffee shop across the street, so maybe I can bribe her with the promise of a cookie. The stroller is now too far away to bother to retrieve it, I’ll just carry her. We get to the shop, her squirming little body protesting to get down, and I order the largest cup of coffee they offer, with an extra shot of espresso. My wallet is at the very bottom of the never ending chasm that is the diaper bag. I set Lou down for a moment, and dig through until I find it. I pay the young, impatient barista-she can dream on any chance of a tip-and turn to leave. I take two steps and feel like I’m going to throw up. Lou! Where’s the baby? I do a full spin to look all over the small shop. There is a young couple engaged in conversation, and the two kids that work here are chatting away behind the counter.
“Any of you see a baby?” I scream, as panic rises in my throat. The couple looks up, irritated, and shake their heads in unison. They couldn’t care less. The front door is propped open, I assume to let in a breeze, and I race out.
“Lou! Lou! Aunt Becca wants you!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I look both ways up and down the sidewalk, and pray that she didn’t cross the road. There is very little traffic along this street, thank goodness, and I don’t see her across the street. I randomly turn left and run down the sidewalk, looking in every nook and cranny along the way. I feel tears pool in my eyes out of sheer terror. I feel someone behind me, and I turn quickly. It’s a policeman, holding Baby Lou, who’s pointing at me.
“Miss, does this wee one…”
I snatch Lou out of his arms, and squeeze her so tightly she whines. I hear myself crying out loud, while the poor guy stares at me. He’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t see his expression, but I’m sure he thinks I’ve lost my mind. I can only imagine how I look, yoga pants, dirty shirt, wild hair and now a tear-stained face to boot. I can’t even form the words to say “thank you” to this poor individual who saved my world. I rush past him and sprint toward the stroller with a death grip on Lou. I see the cup that I must have discarded as I ran outside. There is a large coffee splatter all over the sidewalk. I didn’t even notice when it happened.
We make it to the stroller and I buckle her in tight and run all the way back to the house. My heart feels as if it’s going to burst out of my chest. Somehow, my little angel falls asleep on the way home. All the excitement must have knocked her out. As gently as I can, I take her out and take her up to her crib. She stays asleep, and snuggles up in the corner. I feel an immediate bone-deep fatigue set in. I want to shower so badly, but I have to lie down or I’ll pass out on the spot.
“Bec, Bec, Bec, Bec,” I hear coming from down the hall. Oh shit! It’s Baby Lou. We both slept for two and a half hours. She’s probably starved for lunch. I bring her downstairs, and buckle her into the highchair. I go to make her some lunch, and I hear the “click” once again.
“Oh, no you don’t you little shit! You’re not going anywhere!”
I’m at her side before she slips out. I loosen the slack on the belt, and tie it in a knot. She’s not ever going to get away from me again! She wiggles and wiggles, but to no avail. It gives me enough time to give her a bowl of yogurt and a banana. I flop down hard in the chair beside her. I take a piece of banana, and pop it in my starving mouth. Just then, I hear noise coming from the back door. The boys are back.
“Hi, Aunt Becca, we won our game, but Matthew lost his. How are you guys?” John, ever the sweet one, says as he walks over to see Lou. He kisses the top of her head, and she giggles. Thank God she can’t speak. This afternoon will be our secret to the grave.
Katie follows the boys into the house, and sits down with me.
“Hey, Mom-in-training, you’ve looked a lot better!” She giggles as she gives me the once-over.
“At least you got to do all this one child at a time. I started with four this morning!”
“Here, let me finish feeding her lunch. You look like you could use a nice hot shower.”
“Bless you!” I run upstairs, and slam the door to remove these disgusting clothes. I run a shower in Melanie’s Architectural Digest-worthy bathroom. As soon as the warm water meets my face, the jolt of reality hits that something really bad could have happened today. I have to sit on the shower floor and hug my knees to my chest to calm my nerves. How do parents do this? I’ve never been one to show much emotion, but today I feel like I’ve made up for it. After a nice long cry in the shower, I get out. My skin is red, and my eyes are still puffy. I still have to make it through tonight and most of the day tomorrow.
Katie sees me as I come down the stairs, and she kindly offers to let the boys stay over her place.
“No, I can’t do that. I wanted to spend time with them, and I made the promise to Brian and Mel,” I say halfheartedly.
“Becca, look at yourself, you’re a wreck! It’s OK to accept help, especially when kids are involved. You’re not used to this. It’s no big deal for us, and you spend plenty of time with the boys.
Calm your nerves and enjoy Louise. I’ll bring them back for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Katie. I have so much respect for you and my sister and every other parent out there. I take back every joke I ever made about moms looking haggard. I know the reason now!”
“Well, she and I have good men in our lives who help. She didn’t always, and I don’t know how she ever held that together. You have to find someone willing to work alongside you. Good times, and bad.”
She smiles, and calls the boys to come with her. I finally exhale for what seems like the first time today.
Chapter 5
Baby Lou and I have a quiet night, and an even quieter morning. The boys stayed up late, so they came home, ate some breakfast and crawled back into bed. Lou is taking a nice early nap, so I’m able to clean up a little, to look presentable for when Mel and Brian come home. A little after six, they come in looking well-rested and content.
“Oh, Bec, we owe you big time. I might score fifty points in next week’s game, I feel so good. Nothing like uninterrupted time with this one to ease my stress,” Brian says as he kisses Melanie on the back of her hand. Just kill me now: That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.
“How were the kids? I spoke with them when they were at Katie’s last night. They sounded happy. How was Lou?” Melanie asks with trepidation.
“Are you aware of our little Houdini’s latest trick?” I ask with a smirk.
Melanie looks over at Brian, and they both laugh.
“You mean Baby Lou, the famous escape artist? Yes, Luke taught her how to unbuckle. Stroller, car seat, highchair, everything she can push down onto.”
“Yeah, well, you now have a very tight knot in the highchair belt. I had to carefully maneuver her out because I couldn’t undo it. Good luck with that,” I say heading out the front door to my own blessed, quiet place. I need a drink.
I call a new friend, Mandi, to see if she wants to meet somewhere. She’s another one of Barry’s models. She’s a genuine person, even though ridiculously beautiful, and I like her. She mostly does swimsuit ads, and layouts. Her body, all natural, goes on for days. I’ve always been the more traditional runway type, tall, lean, smallish chest. Essentially, most designers want a coat hanger that walks to show their goods. She says she’d love to hook up, and can I meet her at her place downtown and we can go from there? I decide to take the train. It’s so much easier and she lives only a couple of blocks from the station.
