Enticed:A Dangerous Connection (Secrets) (5 page)

By the time we go to the hospital, Mrs. Norbert has been settled into a room, and thanks to some pain pills, she is resting peacefully.

“She broke her hip,” Belinda explains. “But she was also having some heart irregularities, so they’re keeping her overnight for observation.”

“Poor Mrs. Norbert,” I say.

“Yes. I’m afraid she’ll have to give up her job at Marley’s now.” Belinda shakes her head. “And I’m bringing her home to live with me until she recovers.”

“How long does that take?” I ask.

“The doctor said it could take months.”

“Oh … I’ll miss her.”

“I figured this would happen someday,” Belinda says. “I just didn’t expect it so soon.”

We visit awhile, but it’s clear that Mrs. Norbert is not going to wake up anytime soon. I squeeze her cool hand and tell her I’ll keep praying for a swift recovery, but when we leave, I figure it’s going to be a while before she comes home. I’d really wanted to tell her about Top Models and Actors Inc., hoping to get some feedback from her. But now I’ll have to figure this out myself.

Still, I’m sure she’d be happy for me. After all, she was the first one to believe in me — to encourage me that I have what it takes to become a model. Hopefully I will make her proud. Maybe I’ll have launched a successful career even before she returns home to the apartments.

Mom and I go to early church on Sunday morning, and after that I go over to Trista’s to babysit. Throughout the day I keep assuring myself that this might be my very last day to watch the twins and that I’ll have a real modeling job within the week. That thought energizes me, and the twins and I have one of our best days ever.

In fact, by the time Trista comes home from the salon at four, I’m feeling like I was all wrong about these kids. They’re not really brats. They’re simply energetic. And if you play with them and enjoy them, they are actually rather sweet. In a way, I think I will miss them.

I almost tell Trista not to count on me next weekend, but then I decide to wait until after tomorrow’s conference call. By now I know that Marcia Phillips and the head of the fashion department, a guy named Bryce Farrow, will be calling me at one in the afternoon. I cannot wait to speak to them. I’m praying I’ll handle it right and not make a complete fool of myself.

On Monday I try to keep myself busy by completely cleaning my room and organizing my closet. I’ve never been so motivated before. But the idea of becoming successful and famous and rich is empowering. After I get my room into the best shape it’s ever been in, I go to the computer and study my portfolio photos, as well as my Facebook page. I have accomplished so much in so little time and I can’t help but think all my hard work is about to pay off.

It’s a little past one when my fully charged cell phone chimes. Trying not to appear too eager, I answer it on the second ring.

“This is Marcia Phillips of Top Models and Actors,” a female voice says. “Is this Ms. Fremont?”

“Yes, but you can call me Simi.”

“Good. And that’s such a pretty name. Perfect for a model. Simi, I’d like to introduce you to Bryce Farrow. He was very impressed with your photos.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” a deep voice says. “We’re glad you contacted our agency. Have you contacted any other agencies yet?”

I admit that I filled out numerous applications. “But I haven’t heard back from them yet.”

“Well, that’s typical,” Marcia assures me. “We try to respond promptly when we feel an applicant has strong potential. That’s how we manage to get some of the best models and actors.”

“That’s right,” Bryce says. “We don’t wait around.”

“Well, I’m glad,” I tell them. “I’m eager to start working.”

“You are … that’s wonderful,” Marcia says. “So you’re ready to give up your babysitting job?”

I laugh. “Yes, I think I can bear to part with that.”

“I used to babysit too,” Marcia tells me. “I can’t say I ever missed it. How old are the kids you’ve been watching?”

“Two and a half,” I say. “Twins.”

She laughs. “Oh my. That would be a handful. Whatever made you agree to do that?”

“Well, Trista, their mom, is a friend of my mom’s. And I kind of owed her a favor.”

“You sound like a sweet girl,” Marcia says. “Which brings me to a somewhat personal question. One we don’t like to put on our applications, but because of the nature of the modeling job that’s coming up, I must ask. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. What is it?”

“Well, because the campaign we’re considering you for is for a rather conservative group, it’s important for them to know that you are a
nice
girl. They will not hire anyone who has, shall we say, a bad reputation.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I hate having to ask this, but I’ve made the mistake of sending them some, well, unacceptable girls in the past and it’s been very embarrassing for everyone.”

“Yes,” Bryce jumps in. “These people expect girls as pure as the driven snow, if you get my drift.” He laughs. “No pun intended.”

Although I’m a little surprised by these questions, I do understand what they mean, and as I consider it, I think it’s reassuring that they are looking for “nice” girls. “Well, I’ve never been on a real date,” I confess. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. If that’s what you’re talking about. And I made a purity pledge in my church when I was twelve.”

“Perfect,” Marcia tells me. “That’s just what this campaign is looking for. Pretty girls who have lived a clean life. I’m so glad to hear you’ll fit into this.”

“That is a relief,” Bryce says. “You have no idea what a rarity you are, Simi.”

“So does that mean I got the job?” I ask anxiously. “I mean, will I become your client, part of your agency?”

“We still need to have a face-to-face interview,” Bryce says. “And we’ll want to take some of our own photos.”

“Yes, of course,” I say eagerly. “I know my photos weren’t professional.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Marcia says. “We’ll take care of everything … that is, if we decide to sign with you.”

Now I feel worried. What if they don’t like me once they meet me in person? “So what’s the next step?”

They explain that they’ll need me to come to the studio. “Do you have transportation?” Bryce asks.

“Not really. But I can ride the bus or — ”

“Or we could send a car for you,” Marcia says. “Do you think we could arrange that, Bryce?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Soon it’s decided that a car will come for me tomorrow morning at ten thirty. But now I feel a little uneasy. Getting into a strange car and going to a strange studio in downtown Los Angeles feels a bit intimidating. What if something goes wrong?

“Uh, I’m wondering if it’s okay for me to bring my best friend, Michelle,” I say suddenly. “You know, for moral support.”

Now there’s a dead silence and I’m worried that I’ve crossed some invisible line. Or maybe I’ve offended them.

“Well, some girls try that,” Marcia says carefully, “but quite honestly, it never works out in their best interest. Having a friend with you on an interview and a photo shoot sends the wrong message to everyone. It gives us the impression that you’re not confident and independent. It makes us question whether or not you’re really cut out for modeling. It takes a strong person to become a model, Simi.”

“That’s right,” Bryce says. “If you need a friend to come along and hold your hand, well, maybe you’re not ready for this yet.”

“No,” I say quickly. “I’m ready. I just thought Michelle might enjoy it too.”

“This isn’t about entertaining our friends,” Marcia says firmly. “It’s about hard work and dedication. Perhaps you’re not prepared for the demands of the modeling industry.”

“No,” I say again. “I am ready. I really am. I’ll be ready when the car comes. And I’ll put everything I have into this.”

“Good girl,” Marcia says warmly. “Because that is exactly what it takes.”

Relieved that I didn’t blow this amazing opportunity, we end the phone call and I feel even more excited about tomorrow’s appointment. I can tell that these guys believe in me, and I understand their concern about me needing Michelle to hold my hand. And really, why would I want Michelle hanging around the agency? Knowing her, she’d be questioning everyone and everything and probably humiliating me. No, I do not want her to rain on my parade.

As I go through my closet, trying to decide what I’ll wear to this life-changing photo shoot and interview tomorrow, I consider my mom. Naturally, I’ll tell her about what I’m doing. But what if she plays the mom-card and starts questioning everything? Even worse, what if she insists on going there with me? Not that she can get off work. But what if she did get off work and marched in there with me? Would I be comfortable having my fashion-challenged mom sitting through all this with me? And what about what Marcia and Bryce said about independence? Besides that, Mom is always telling me how much she appreciates my independence. She encourages it.

No, this is something I need to do on my own. After all, I didn’t drag Mom with me when I interviewed for a job at the yogurt shop a few weeks ago. I was bummed that I didn’t get that job. But now I can see that it was probably just a blessing in disguise. Otherwise I wouldn’t be about to interview for this opportunity with the modeling agency.

I know I need to do this myself, for myself. And I need to put my best foot forward and go into this interview with all the energy and enthusiasm I can muster. I will give this photo shoot my all, and I will succeed.

… [CHAPTER 5]………………

M
om is dirty and exhausted and almost two hours late when she comes home from work. She explains to me that she had to fix a flat tire on the side of the freeway. “No one even stopped to help,” she says angrily as she plods down the hall to her room.

“That’s terrible,” I say.

“I’m beat.” She pauses by her door. “I’m going to take a shower and just crash for a while. And don’t worry about dinner. I’ll just fix something later.”

“I made spaghetti. There’s leftovers in the fridge.”

She gives me a weary nod. “Thanks, honey. You’re a good girl.”

I feel so sorry for her as she goes into her room. It’s like nothing is going right for her these days. More than ever, I want to get this modeling job. I want to start bringing home money to help out with expenses. Somehow I must convince Marcia and Bryce that I am really the girl for the job. I’ve got to make them believe in me.

Once again, I’m checking my e-mail and Facebook, curious to see if any of the other agencies have responded to my portfolio. To my dismay, no one besides TMA has replied. But then I remember what they said about how they like to jump in before others get the chance. And really, that seems smart. If I ran a modeling agency, I think I’d do the same thing.

I’ve been avoiding Michelle these past couple of days. Not that I’ve purposely ignored her calls, but when I noticed she’d called, I didn’t call her back. And when she texted me, I texted her back but tried to sound busy and preoccupied. Finally, it’s about nine and she calls and, feeling guilty, I answer.

“Hey, Michelle, what’s up?”

“What’s up is that you’re already starting to act like a snobby supermodel. What’s the deal anyway?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

So I explain that I have an appointment with TMA tomorrow. I tell her I have to be ready for it. I even throw in the bit about Mom and her flat tire. I’m not even sure why. Maybe I want her to feel sorry for me. After all, Michelle lives in a pretty nice house in a secure neighborhood. Shouldn’t she have a little sympathy for someone like me?

“Even so, it feels like you’re pushing me aside, Simi. Like you’ve already moved into your new life of being a model. Like you don’t even need me anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Michelle. You know that’s not true. You’re my best friend. I’ll always need you. It’s just that I really need to do this, too.” Now I decide to get really honest with her. “Mom and I are barely making it on her salary, and now she’s worried she’ll get laid off. And you know my dad doesn’t help out a bit. So if I can get modeling work, it might be our way out of this.”

“Oh … yeah … I guess I never thought of it like that.”

“That’s because you have normal parents, Michelle. Sometimes I think you don’t know how lucky you are.”

“Yeah … maybe so.”

“Anyway, if you think about it, why don’t you pray for me tomorrow. Pray that the people at TMA really like me. Pray that I get this job.” I tell her about how they have this campaign where they want “good” girls. “I mean, I got the impression they wanted to be sure I’d made a purity pledge or something.”

“Seriously?”

“Maybe it’s for a church or Christian organization.”

“I suppose that’s encouraging.” She laughs. “Well, unless this organization is looking for virgins to sacrifice. You know, like they plan to throw you into a volcano to appease some pagan god or something.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, right. I’m sure that’s what this is all about.”

She asks me what I’m wearing and I tell her that I plan to wear my choir dress. “It’s kind of like an LBD.”

“A what?”

“A little black dress,” I explain.

“Oh … I get it. Yeah, I guess that will look nice.” And now she suggests some accessories that I might want to try with it, and I promise to text her from the agency to let her know how the interview’s going. And before we finally hang up, she wishes me good luck and she sounds sincere. Michelle may be a skeptic, but she’s still my best friend and I know she has my best interests at heart.

I’m so excited about tomorrow that it’s impossible to get to sleep, so I do some Internet surfing, reading up about professional models and the industry in general, in the hopes that I’ll learn how to speak their language before my big day. As I’m reading that the secret to one model’s success is drinking lots of water, eating fresh fruit and veggies, and getting plenty of sleep, I finally realize that it’s after midnight. What if I show up looking tired and pasty with bags under my eyes tomorrow? So I force myself to go to bed, and counting backward from a thousand, I finally feel myself falling asleep.