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  That night reminded me of slumber parties I used to have in elementary and middle school before we decided we’d outgrown them and certain people were to be ignored for no good reason. Back when we ate bologna sandwiches for lunch, invited the entire class to our birthday parties, and no one person seemed innately better than anyone else. I rounded up every last sheet, blanket and pillow in my house and after talking ourselves into exhaustion about anything and everything, one by one, we fell asleep.

  “Sabrina? Sabrina?”

  She and I were the last two standing. All I hear is the even rising and falling of her chest. I roll over on my side, trying to get comfortable. I think back to the first day I walked into the Chloe Dillon Modeling and Talent Agency and despite some lingering awkwardness at the party, I realize I’ve come so far since then. So far, even since Sabrina’s rooftop party. I don’t succumb to dark thoughts as often, but when I do, I bounce back. My love life is a barren desert located somewhere between starving for affection and I may never ever have sex again, but I have three new friends sleeping over at my house. I’m content and, dare I say, happy? “Perhaps there is hope for me yet,” I whisper to the sleeping room before drifting into a hard alcohol and sugar coma induced slumber.

  Chapter 26

  For our final photo shoot at Chloe Dillon, we were told to bring three outfits with any related props, one of which should be form fitting or a bikini. Additional accessories and props would be made available.

  Body awareness class that week was painfully awkward for me. I just didn’t know what to do with my limbs and felt clunky and self-conscious as we worked with Melody on posing and the difference between an editorial pose and a commercial one. In the digital photos she snapped, I looked like those pictures of the hulking pre historic man from my high school Biology textbook, all hunched over with dangling arms and wide eyes minus all the extra wooly hair. I’ve seen the effortless, interesting ways in which models seem to float across the pages of fashion magazines, and I looked nothing like that, so it was with great despair that I showed up on Saturday morning at my scheduled time slot.

  At least the weather is cooperating. The gloom of early morning lifted and a brilliant blue sky and seventy-degree temps took its place. I pull my parking ticket from the machine and the gate lifts. After finding a parking space, I struggle to carry all of my items from the car to the hotel room. The door is propped open by the security latch and I have to push it open with my foot.

  Inside, Talya and Janine are in various stages of photo shoot prep. Karen opted out of photo shoot day, but everyone else in our class will be here at some point throughout the day.

  “Why don’t you want to do the shoot?” I admonished when Sabrina told me she hadn’t signed up.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Doing the photo shoot feels kind of goofy to me. I’m just not that into it and I need to get everything ready for the party.”

  “Sabrina, just do it. C’mon. Can you just listen to what I say just once and do it? You might as well finish what you started.”

  The one thing she seems to have a complex about is not following through on things. I think that’s part of why she’s so afraid of law school. If she starts it, she’ll have to finish it no matter how much she hates it. She didn’t agree right then, but said she’d think about it.

  Karen wouldn’t even consider it. “This class wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but the photo shoot is really pushing it,” she said with a slight scowl on her face.

  What a waste. Her digitals from this week were really good. Plus, it’s covered in our session fee. I paid enough money to enroll in this course, so you can bet I’m getting every little bit out of it that I’m supposed to.

  A plump woman in all black with her hair in a messy bun piled high on top of her head walks over and extends her hand.

  “Alexis?” she asks.

  “Yes.” I nod my head shaking her hand.

  “I’m hair and make-up. Rita. You can hang your things over there on the garment rack and we’ll get started.”

  “Hey,” I say to Talya towering over me in stilettos. We hug then I take her place in the chair.

  She looks stunning in a floral almost sheer dress that hangs off of one shoulder. Her dark hair flows in loose waves down her back and her bangs are swept to the side. She’s an angel, and I feel deflated before I’ve even begun as the makeup artist sprays her hands with antibacterial solution and slathers my face with moisturizer.

  A man with a stubbly gray beard and a matching head full of salt and pepper hair pops his head in the door, calling out, “Talya, we’re ready for your last look.”

  “Coming,” she says to him then smiles at me. “How do I look?” she asks anxiously. “They didn’t want to put a lot of make up on me.”

  Rita pipes up. “She was listed as straight editorial, which means she’s going for editorial agents, which means very little make up. They won’t take her seriously if she looks like she’s doing glamour shots.”

  “You look amazing, Talya. You don’t need make up. Have fun.”

  “Thanks, you too,” she says, rushing out the door.

  Janine walks over and stands next to the chair. Rita expertly cajoled her straight hair into flattering, face-framing waves.

  “So, how did it go?” I ask her.

  “I’ll never be a model, but look at me, “ she says with excitement. “It’s like the full model experience, and I’m really having a great time with all of this. I’d do it all over again if I could, it was that much fun. Trust me. You’re gonna love it!”

  This gives me hope.

  Callie flings the door open. “Heellloooo!” She drops her garment bag and runs over to Janine, giving her a giant hug. She’s practically bouncing out of her converse sneakers. She reaches out her hand to me and I grab a hold of it, squeezing tightly. “Are you so excited? Who else is here?”

  “Talya’s with the photographer, doing her model thing, and I’m done. She’s next,” Janine says, pointing at me. “Have fun guys. I’m so worn out, I need to go home and take a nap. I’ll see you two at the party tonight. Karen’s coming, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah,” Callie replies. “She’s going to pick me up after my shoot.”

  “All right, see you later,” she says, hauling her garment bag out the door behind her.

  Callie chats up the make up artist while she works on my face. I caught a glimpse of the list and see that I’m listed as commercial and Callie is listed as editorial. Melody explained the difference to us in class. Editorial models are the ones you see modeling high-end clothing and beauty brands. They do fashion week, travel around the world and become household names. They’re edgy, unique, and fit into clothing that nobody else can. Tall and thin is mandatory and it’s the most sought after kind of model to be. Not only do they sell clothing or a product, but they also sell image and desire. There are editorial models then there’s everyone else. You can still make a lot of money being a commercial model, but the physical requirements are less rigid and they sell things like deodorant and laundry detergent.

  Quicker than I expected, she’s done and I’m turning around in my chair to check out the finished product. It’s the first time I’ve ever had my makeup professionally done. My skin is airbrushed to perfection and my eyes look larger and deeper set. It looks like I’ll leave a dent behind if I touch my face.

  “So what do you think?” the makeup artist asks.

  “I really like it,” I say. And even though it doesn’t look like me, it still does—a more glamorous me, with freakishly perfect skin.

  “Do you have any ideas for hair?”

  I shake my head no.

  She pulls out my hair tie, whips out her brush and vigorously brushes out my hair. “You’re going to get into your casual look first so I’ll just bump it under and smooth it out for you.”

  When I found out we’d have a beach setting, I figured denim shorts and a fitted peach tank top would do for a casual and fitted look.
I’ve been eating much healthier since Sarah’s party. I stocked up on fruits, vegetables, and lean meats, and googled how to bake chicken. I was pleased to discover that making chicken, rice and vegetables isn’t rocket science. Between chicken and giving up potato chips, I already lost a few pounds, but I’m not ready for a bikini. I found a blow up beach ball still in the package from god knows when, so I brought that along too and asked Callie to blow it up for me so I wouldn’t ruin my lips.

  “You look really good.” Callie says, sitting down in the makeup chair. I nod and smile even though I don’t really believe her. My face is fine, but I’m really regretting my outfit choice right now. I feel very plain Jane and not photo shoot worthy.

  Talya comes back with the photographer.

  “How did it go?”

  Her hair is slightly disheveled, but she looks really pleased with herself. “I got to move around and jump and spin...I’ve never had so much fun.”

  “I’m Henry,” the photographer says, shaking my hand. “Talya’s a natural. Mark my words, if that girl doesn’t get an agent, I’ll quit photography,” he says in a very serious voice. “And I don’t plan on quitting photography any time soon,” he says, winking at Talya.

  I grab my beach ball from Callie and follow the photographer out the door.

  Melody was supposed to be here today to cheer us on, but her agent got her an amazing contract with a new agency and she literally had to jet off to Paris in a hurry.

  Henry’s really easy to work with, and very encouraging even though I’m extremely awkward and self-conscious. “Relax, relax!” he yells every five minutes.

  I struggle to look natural as I walk towards him with my back to the ocean, bare toes digging into the sand. I do much better when I play around with the beach ball because it gives me something to do. One assistant uses a makeup brush stored in the belt around her waist to swat at my face and smooth out stray hairs as needed, and a second assistant wields a round silver disk to deflect light so the whole thing looks a whole lot more professional than it actually is. I think some passersby may have thought I was a “real” model and instead of wilting under their stares, I use it. If they think I’m a “real” model, then that’s what I’ll be.

  I wear the outfit I wore to Sarah’s party for a fashionably dressy look with loose curls in my hair, and a light blue button up top with black slacks for a business look. Rita expertly pulls my curled hair back while I adjust the collar of my button up top before she sends me down to the sleek hotel lobby for my last set. I started out really rough around the edges but by the end, Henry yells, “Yes, yes! Perfect,” as I toss my head, staring into the camera lens with as much relaxed intensity as I can muster. I totally get what Janine was saying. It really is the full model experience with the camera clicking away and everyone focused on making me look good.

  The thing that most people don’t get about modeling is that it’s more difficult than anyone thinks it is. It’s hard to look natural while holding poses that people don’t naturally hold. I’m tired and sore as if I’d worked out, but I’m also on top of the world because one final piece of the puzzle shifted into place today. Those camera clicks will turn into images and those images will be subjected to judgment, but that isn’t the point. I made the lens my friend, and if I can do that, surely I can do other scary things.

  The rhythm of the waves and crashing roar of the ocean persuade me to take a walk before heading home. Something I would have never done before, but this is all part of my new healthy lifestyle. I dump my things in the car and break into a sprint towards the walking path. About twenty minutes later, I’m passing the restaurant by the bay when I notice a familiar form ahead of me. My face breaks out in a rash of prickles when I realize who it is.

  Will.

  My hair in a bedraggled pony tail, shirt sticking to my sweaty back and spandex were never part of the picture when I thought about what it would be like to see him again, but I of all people know that you have to work with what you’ve got. I take a few seconds to push my wide neck T-shirt off my shoulder, flip my hair over to re-secure my pony tail with the elastic and rub my still glossy lips together. I resume my power walking pace and quickly catch up to him.

  “Hey, stranger,” I say, pushing my sunglasses atop my head and slowing down in mock surprise. It may not be the sexy dress and freshly done hair I would have preferred, but at least I’m still wearing my glamorous make-up.

  “Alexis,” he says in surprise, taking in my appearance from head to toe. “Wow. You look really good.

  “Thanks. So do you,” I reply. His requisite baggy jeans ride low on his hips and he’s wearing a striped polo shirt I’ve never seen before. The white knit beanie on his head appears odd and out of place on such a warm day.

  “So...how are you?” he asks awkwardly with a small smile flashing the same dimples that melted my eighteen-year old heart. I detect fatigue about his eyes, and he really seems to be drowning more than usual in those jeans, but he’s the same Will I remember.

  “I’m really good,” I reply, glad that I really mean it. “Things have changed a lot for me.”

  He nods and his eyebrows shoot upwards with curiosity, but I choose not to elaborate.

  I ask him how he’s doing instead, and he’s vague in return. “I’m doing well. I’m on my way to meet a friend for lunch,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder.

  Friend? The brief conversation comes to a natural if awkward end. After so many thousands and thousands of words exchanged between us, there isn’t much more to be said. We both know it. While my heart sinks a little at the realization, it also soars because it means I’m ready to move on.

  “Well, good to see you,” I say, pushing my sunglasses down over my eyes.

  “Good to see you too.” He tugs awkwardly on his beanie with both hands, pulling it further down on his head.

  We lean in at the same time for a departing embrace. I feel his gaze upon my back as I break into a jog, leaving him in my past.

  Where he belongs.

  Chapter 27

  Callie’s parents weren’t too concerned because she’d be with her big sister Karen, but Mindy and Molly’s parents were understandably a little bit cautious about their seventeen-year-old daughters going to a party in a downtown high-rise condo with adults. Molly’s mom sought out Sabrina and introduced herself on the last day of class when she came to pick them up.

  I ring Sabrina’s doorbell at 7:32 p.m., wearing the pink chiffon, pleated skirt and turquoise and white striped tank Tessa helped me find at Forever 21.

  Sabrina greets me with a hug and a very hushed and cryptic, “Thank god you’re here.”

  My smile instantly drops. I wasn’t the first to arrive.

  Tessa sits on a bar stool at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine clutched in her hand and a strained look on her face. She sent me a text message earlier that day, asking me if she should come. It would’ve felt wrong not to have her there, but their relationship was such that she didn’t really know if Sabrina wanted her there. They may have broken the ice the night of Sarah’s party, but the water was still essentially frozen. They don’t interact.

  I texted her back. Everyone is invited. It’s our end session party. Come.

  Tessa gets up and says hello in a near whisper, then tells me she’s not staying.

  I whip my head around, shooting daggers with my eyes at Sabrina. “I told her to come.”

  They don’t say anything. Tessa pats my shoulder and walks past me toward the door.

  I continue to stare, waiting for someone to say something, and I’m really disappointed. The night won’t be the same without her there, and it’s so stupid that two grown women can’t grow up and get over it already.

  I cross my arms over my chest and exhale a loud, angry sigh. Sabrina bursts out laughing. I don’t get what’s going on until Tessa snorts, throws her head back and starts cracking up even louder than Sabrina. I half smile, trying to figure out what to make of it, when Tessa e
xplodes.

  “We kissed and made up.”

  “Yeah,” Sabrina says, laughing. “Oh my god, your face was priceless!”

  “I hate you guys!” I say angrily, but not really meaning it.

  “This bitch decided to invite herself to the party early and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask, smiling in earnest now.

  “We can be friends if she agrees to never to have sex with my father again.”

  “Yeah, it’s signed in blood and everything.”

  And that’s when I notice her hair. “Tessa, your hair! Oh my gosh, it looks great.”

  “Yeah, major improvement,” Sabrina adds dryly.

  The harsh platinum locks have been replaced by a natural color with slightly darker roots that fade nicely into a honey colored blonde at freshly trimmed ends.

  “Thanks,” she says, running her fingers through her much healthier looking strands. “Melody suggested it, so I figured it was time to tone it down. I did it yesterday just in time for the photo shoot. Thank god it turned out.”

  Everyone else arrives in a pack all at once. Hugs all around as everyone presses for details about the day’s shoot.

  Sabrina wastes no time escorting Callie, Mindy and Molly to the kiddy bar where she’s mixed up virgin cocktails for the girls under twenty-one. “You can drink as much as you want of anything over here. Anything else is off limits. Got it? I will not have any pissed off parents at my door over one of you coming home with alcohol on your breath.”

  “We know,” they chorused together in a sing song voice. They dip their spoons into the crushed ice and start creatively pouring drinks of various colors, creating a rainbow that shows through the clear glasses. Then they take off outside and upstairs to check out the rooftop deck.

  “Minors make me nervous,” Sabrina says, coming into the kitchen and uncovering a full spread from Delaney’s.