Enticed:A Dangerous Connection (Secrets) (4 page)

“Yay, you’re here,” she tells me as she opens the door with a flattening iron in her hair. “Leo, get off that table! Right now, before you fall and break your neck.”

I hurry past her and scoop Leo off the edge of the coffee table, tickling him as I flop him onto the floor. Naturally, he thinks this is a great game and climbs right back on the table again. And before long, Lacy is attempting to do the same. To distract them, I go to their room where I act like I’m playing with their toys, and seconds later they show up and I manage to keep them entertained while Trista gets ready for her big date.

As she does her hair and makeup and gets dressed, she calls out to me, telling me all about Kent, the UPS guy, and how he was so shy when he asked her out and where they are meeting. “What do you think of this outfit?” she asks as she pops into the twins’ room.

I study the short skirt and snug top and frown. “You want my honest opinion?” I ask tentatively.

She looks down. “Too much, huh?”

“Or too little.”

She laughs. “I can’t believe a teenager has more fashion sense than I do.”

“Hey, you’re great when it comes to hair and eyebrows. But since it’s your first date … well, maybe you should hold back a little.”

She nods. “You’re absolutely right.”

When she returns, she’s dressed much more conservatively in a sleeveless turquoise blue dress. “Very classy,” I tell her. “And it makes you look tan.”

She holds up two pairs of shoes. “Which ones?”

I point to the sandals in the same color of blue, then I suggest she might want to put silver earrings with it. “Turquoise and silver look pretty together,” I say, like I’m suddenly an expert. Then, since the twins are occupied with the block tower we were building, I follow her back to her room and briefly tell her about my modeling plans and how Michelle and I took all the photos for my portfolio yesterday.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” she says as she holds up a pair of silver hoops. She turns and looks closely at me. “With your height and those long legs, you probably would be a good model.” She slips in a hoop. “You’re pretty enough too.”

I thank her and then, hearing a crash and squeals, I hurry back to the twins’ room to see their tower has fallen and they are now pelting each other with the blocks. Trista leaves a little before six, just as I’m dishing out some macaroni and cheese with a few frozen peas tossed in and trying to get the brats situated in their booster chairs. It was so much easier when I could buckle them into the high chairs, but they outgrew those recently. I manage to entice them to eat most of their dinner with the promise of yogurt-cicles for dessert. And then I get them stripped down and into the bathtub around seven.

By the time they’re in pajamas and wrestled into bed, I feel exhausted. Fortunately, they seem tired too. And after a picture book and bedtime prayer, they are drifting off. I just hope I don’t drift off too because I still want to work on my portfolio and perhaps even fill out some modeling agency applications tonight.

Finally, convinced that they are really asleep, I tiptoe from their room and go straight for my computer, where I pull up my Favorites file and peruse through the modeling agency websites. I know Mrs. Norbert told me I wasn’t ready yet and that she wanted to help me with this, but I also know she is old — and she doesn’t move very fast. What if it takes her weeks to figure something out? Or what if she gets distracted and forgets? I really feel like I need to take matters into my own hands. Especially with Mom’s situation at work. Besides,
I am ready
. Everyone usually tells me I’m old for my age. And I’ve managed to put together a pretty good portfolio. Even Michelle, the skeptic, seemed almost convinced that I could do this.

At first I think I’ll apply only to the most-impressive agencies, and then I decide why not just go for it and apply to all of them? Well, except for the ones that are obviously schools looking for paying students, since I obviously can’t afford that. I figure that filling out a lot of applications is kind of like buying a bunch of lottery tickets. It should improve my odds. The forms are all pretty similar, kind of like job applications, except they ask about things like height, weight, hair and eye color.

Finally, it’s almost ten and I’ve filled out about twenty applications and can barely keep my eyes open. Remembering that models need their beauty sleep and that I had a late night last night, I call it quits and give in to the couch, where I quickly fall asleep.

When I wake up, it’s almost eleven, but I don’t expect Trista back until midnight. I’m about to close down my laptop when I notice that I’ve got an e-mail, so I decide to check it. To my stunned amazement, one of the modeling agencies has already responded to my application! Okay, it’s not a very personal letter and is worded rather formally, which makes me think it’s probably an automated response. But since they’re inviting me to submit my portfolio to them, I happily comply.

Before long, the folder of my forty best photos is on its way to Top Models and Actors Inc., and I am feeling very hopeful. This is probably just the beginning. I’m sure I’ll be hearing from even more of them by tomorrow. And even if this e-mail was an automated response, someone will receive my photos and, perhaps by Monday, I will hear back from them and, maybe by July, I will begin modeling and I can give up my babysitting job.

Of course, this reminds me I should probably check on the twins, although I’m sure they’re still asleep. I tiptoe down the hall and peek into their room, where I can see by the light of the Winnie the Pooh night-light, they are both still sleeping soundly. I must admit that Leo and Lacy look awfully sweet and innocent and dear as they’re snoozing peacefully. To my surprise, I feel unexpectedly protective of them. Maybe it’s a maternal feeling. Anyway, I’m sure it will evaporate by tomorrow when I’m chasing them around this place.

Trista gets home a little after midnight, and I can tell she’s had a good date. She promises to pay me next week, and I tell her I’ll see her again in the morning. Then I hurry back up to our apartment and go to bed. But now I find it’s hard to get to sleep because I am so jazzed. I am imagining myself as a client for Top Models and Actors Inc. I can see myself strutting down the runway. I feel the heat of the spotlight on me. I can hear the applause of people watching. And suddenly I’m thinking — why should I limit my dreams to only modeling?

Perhaps I can have a career in acting as well. I’ve always had an interest in drama and have had minor parts in several plays. Why shouldn’t I be on the big screen as well as on the runway? Lots of models make this transition. Why not me?

Suddenly it feels like my future is stretching out before me like an inviting highway that’s filled with promise and hope, and I can’t wait to see where all this is taking me. Now if only I could go to sleep!

… [CHAPTER 4]………………

T
he next day I sleep in and have to scramble to make it to Trista’s by ten. Fortunately her salon is only a few minutes away, so she’s only a few minutes late. But I did remember to grab my backpack, which still has my computer in it. And although I don’t get a moment to check my e-mail until I’ve finally put the twins down for their afternoon nap, I’m excited to discover I’ve received a second message from Top Models and Actors Inc. I eagerly open it to find it’s from someone named Marcia Phillips.

Dear Ms. Fremont:

Thank you for sending your portfolio. I am pleased to tell you that we are impressed with your photos and want to consider adding you to our clientele list. Please let us know when we can schedule a conference call with you. We have a big event next week and I think you have just the look to be part of it.

Sincerely,

Marcia Phillips

Vice President, Top Models and Actors Inc.

I’m so excited I have to control myself from letting out a whoop as I do a silent happy dance all around the living room. Then I call Michelle and tell her the good news.

“Wow, that was fast. Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?”

“Suspicious?”

“Well, you never know. There are a lot of creeps out there, Simi.”

“These guys are totally legit. You should see the TMA website.” Then I tell her how to find it, and after she goes there, she has to admit it’s an attractive site and looks like a solid agency.

“Even so,” she says, “you should do some research on them before you go sign yourself up for life.”

“I’ll hardly be signing up for life.”

“Yeah, well, for all you know they could be making sleazy movies.”

I laugh. “Did you see all the photos of their models? Did you read about all the things their clients have been featured in? These guys are the real deal, Michelle. It’s all completely aboveboard.”

“Well, people can lie, you know.”

“Oh Michelle.” I release an exasperated sigh. “You can be such a buzz kill sometimes.”

“Sorry. Just call me a realist.”

“Well, when I start bringing in the big bucks and become famous, I’ll try not to say I told you so.
Okay?
” I laugh as I flick through the beautiful faces on the TMA website. I can’t wait until I see my face up there with them. This is beyond exciting!

After a few more doubtful comments from Michelle, I make an excuse to hang up, but really I just want to e-mail TMA back before the twins wake up. However, I’m trying to carefully word my e-mail. I want to sound smart and professional. And not overly eager. Not that I plan to play hard to get, but I want to make them really want me.

Dear Ms. Phillips:

Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I am interested in talking to you. Because I’m working this weekend, it might be best to schedule a call for next week. Monday at the soonest —

I stop typing and study this. Maybe I should clarify that although I’m working, it’s not a job I’m particularly committed to. I don’t want them to think there’s anything to keep me from working for them. So I go back and make some changes, explaining that I’m actually just babysitting for a friend. Then I give Marcia my cell phone number as well as our landline, saying I’ll be available for a conference call anytime on Monday.
A conference call!
I cannot believe it. I’m actually going to participate in a real conference call with a real modeling agency. This is beyond exciting.

My spirits are so buoyed by Marcia’s e-mail that I’m filled with extra energy, and I’m actually eager to play with Leo and Lacy, keeping them happily entertained all afternoon. I even take them and their afternoon snack outside to the play yard, which means lifting them into swings and helping them onto the slide, basically a complete workout for me while they have all the fun. But I don’t mind, because I’m almost certain that my babysitting days with them are numbered. As in number one — after Sunday, which I’m hoping will be my last day, I plan to give Trista my notice. Hopefully she’ll find someone else without too much problem for next weekend.

When I go home, I tell Mom the good news and show her the website and she is very happy for me. “It was so wonderful of Mrs. Norbert to set you up like this.” Mom points to the portfolio sitting on the coffee table. “Perhaps you should return that to her.”

“Good idea,” I say as I pick it up. “I’ll take it to her now.” I realize Mom’s assuming that Mrs. Norbert found TMA for me and I should probably straighten her out, but right now I’m eager to tell Mrs. Norbert my good news. But when I knock on the door, it seems she’s not home. I’m about to leave when I hear what sounds like someone crying out from inside the apartment.

“Mrs. Norbert?” I call out, wondering if I’m hearing things.

“Help me!” she cries out in a raspy voice.

“Mrs. Norbert! Are you okay?”

“Help!”

Now I try the door, which is naturally locked. “I’ll be right back with Mr. Reeves,” I yell. “Hold on!” Having no idea what is wrong with her, I shoot down the stairs, past Trista’s, to the superintendent’s apartment down on the end, where I pound on his door. “Mr. Reeves! Open up! Mrs. Norbert needs help.”

I can tell I woke him up, but I quickly explain what’s going on, and he grabs his keys and his phone and we both dash back up the stairs, where he opens the door and we find Mrs. Norbert on the floor. We both kneel to see what’s wrong, and in a hoarse voice, she explains that she fell.

“I’m afraid … something is broken,” she says breathlessly. “I can’t get up. I couldn’t get the phone.”

Mr. Reeves is calling 911 now and I remain on the floor trying to soothe this poor old woman. “Do you want some water?”

“Yes,
please!
”

I bring back a glass of water and help her to sip it. Then I tell her that I brought her portfolio back. I’m tempted to tell her about the modeling agency, but she’s in such pain that I don’t think I should.

“I’ve been here for more than nine hours.” She looks sadly up at the clock. “I thought I might just die here.”

“I’m so glad I heard you.”

“So am I. Can you call my daughter?”

“Yes, of course.” I pull my cell phone out and she tells me the number and soon I’m talking to Belinda, explaining that her mother fell down and broke something. “An ambulance is coming,” I explain. Mr. Reeves is still talking to the emergency people on the phone.

“Tell them to take her to St. John’s and I’ll meet her there,” Belinda says.

Before long the paramedics arrive and I tell them what Belinda said. I hold Mrs. Norbert’s hand as they check her out and load her on a gurney. “I’ll pray for you. And I’ll come visit you at the hospital,” I promise. Then I watch as they wheel her down the hallway.

“What’s going on?” Mom says as she emerges just in time to see the paramedics carrying Mrs. Norbert down the stairs.

I explain what happened and Mom hugs me. “I’m so glad you were there to help her, Simi. I’m sure she’s grateful.”

“I promised to visit her in the hospital.”

“Well, let’s give her time to settle in and get X-rays and whatnot. Maybe we can go in later this evening.”