Lust, Money & Murder (3 page)

Kathy hated herself for being jealous of her own daughter, yet the feelings were so intense at times she couldn’t control herself. One Sunday night after Patrick had spent the entire weekend with Elaine, she said, “Maybe you would rather little Lainie sleep in our bed and I can sleep in her room?”

Patrick slapped her so hard it knocked her off her feet. Pointing his shaking finger at her as she lay on the floor, her lip bleeding, he said, “You ever say anything like that again, I’ll kill you.”

Two weeks later, Kathy Brogan ran away to Florida with a 23-year-old check out clerk from the supermarket.

She was never seen or heard from again.

CHAPTER 1.2

“Have you ever done any modeling?” the man asked.

Elaine was 16 years old and had a summer job at a Pittsburgh shopping mall to help save money for college. She was on break, looking at a window display, when he approached her from behind.

When she turned around, he said, “My name is Randy,” and shook her hand. He had an easy, disarming manner. A professional-looking camera was hanging around his neck. “I work for the Rising Star Modeling Agency.” He gave Elaine a business card. “We’re doing scouting for new models right now. You’ve got a fresh look. You should drop by our office.”

When she got off work, Elaine took the bus straight downtown to the Rising Star Modeling Agency. There were dozens of beautiful young girls walking in and out of the sleek offices, which were on the third floor of a fancy office building. The walls were covered with posters of glamorous looking models in designer clothing. She didn’t recognize any of them, but she was sure they were top fashion models.

A chain-smoking, middle-aged woman named Ms. Crawford interviewed her. She studied Elaine’s face, asked Elaine to turn around.

Elaine was tall, almost 5’ 10”, and had her mother’s figure—modest breasts, a flat stomach, and long, slim legs.

“I think you have a lot of potential. Do you have a comp card?”

“A what?” Elaine said.

The woman sighed as if she were dealing with a total amateur. “A comp card is a piece of paper that has your photos with different poses and tells potential clients all about you—your height, weight, dress size, shoe size. Like this.” She showed Elaine one. “No agency will hire you as a model until you have a comp card.”

Elaine blushed, embarrassed by her own naïvety. “How do I get a comp card?”

“You start by getting some top quality photos. You can use whatever photographer you want, but I can only recommend Randy. A comp card costs two hundred dollars.”

“Two hundred dollars!” Elaine gasped. It was a small fortune to her.

Ms. Crawford sighed. “Look, honey, do you want to be a model or not?”

* * *

Elaine emptied her bank account and paid the $200. Posing in different outfits under the bright lights and with all the colorful props was thrilling. Elaine felt a heady rush when she picked up the comp cards. She looked spectacular in all the different photos. Now she was a real model!

She gave the cards to Ms. Crawford and went home, waiting for the phone to ring.

* * *

Ms. Crawford did not call. Two days passed, then a week, then ten days.

Elaine finally decided to go talk to Ms. Crawford and see what was wrong.

When she reached the agency, Ms. Crawford was standing next to the open window, smoking, talking on the phone. She seemed to talk forever. Finally, she hung up and looked at Elaine. “Yes, dear?”

“I...I was wondering if there were any modeling jobs for me yet.”

“And you are...?”

“Elaine Brogan. I left my comp cards with you almost two weeks ago.”

“Oh. Yeah. I thought you looked familiar. You’re B list, right?”

“B List...?” Elaine didn’t know what she was talking about.

She went over to a file cabinet. “Let’s see... Bailey, Bennington, Bernstein...Brogan.” She pulled out Elaine’s file, glanced at the stack of comp cards, then put it back and shut the drawer. “Everything is in order. Is there anything else?”

“What does ‘B List’ mean?”

“Means you’re untrained. You’re not client-ready. Modeling is a highly competitive field, honey.” She blew out smoke, looking at Elaine. “It’s tough to get work unless you’re client-ready.”

“How do I become client-ready?”

“Training of course.” She handed Elaine a color brochure that showed all the different classes the agency offered. When she saw the price for the whole program, her eyes bugged out. “Two thousand dol—”

“Do you think you could be a successful doctor without any training?”

“Well I—”

“A successful lawyer?”

Elaine didn’t speak.

“A successful engineer? Honey, modeling is no different than any other profession.”

Elaine felt stupid again.

She left with the brochure.

* * *

“Two
thousand
dollars?” Elaine’s father said, staring at the paper.

“Modeling is no different than any other profession, Dad. If you want to be a successful doctor, you have to have training. If you want to be a successful lawyer, you—”

“I know all that. But two thousand dollars...”

“You don’t think I’m pretty enough to be a model?”

“Of course you’re pretty enough.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just that...I was hopin’ you’d choose a profession where you’d use your brains.”

“It’s only a hobby, Dad. I don’t expect to do it as a
career
or anything.” The truth was, Elaine had fantasies about being a supermodel and having her picture splashed all over the cover of
Vogue
and flying all over the world and being filthy rich. She wasn’t keen on the idea of going to college.

Patrick scratched his head, looking at the brochure. “I don’t know...seems like this could be a scam to lure a lot of gullible young girls—”

“It’s not a scam! Why do you always have to be so suspicious?”

“Lainie...” Patrick sighed. He gazed into his daughter’s big blue eyes. He couldn’t say no to her. “Is this really that important to you?”

“Yes,” she said emphatically.

When he finally agreed, Elaine threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “I’ve got the best father in the whole wide world!”

* * *

For Elaine, the rest of the summer was an exhilarating blur of activity. She took classes on how to walk the ramp and catwalk, on hair and skin care, on fitness and diet, and on positive mental attitude. She attended seminars covering what to do in the “green room” and backstage, how to create good portfolio poses, and the use of body language. Outside of the agency, she also signed up for aerobics classes to burn off extra fat.

Her father brought home a ten-foot length of wood and sanded it down so she could practice “walking the beam,” for catwalk training. He installed a huge mirror on her bedroom wall to help her refine movements and improve her posture.

Elaine slowly transformed from the proverbial ugly duckling into a swan. She didn’t consider herself naturally beautiful, but she learned to make the best use of everything she had. She learned to buy clothes that accentuated her long legs and downplayed her small bust, and to do it on a budget that created a classy impression. She learned to smile more often, and to hold her head high when she was afraid. In general, she became much more aware of her posture and facial expressions and learned to move with much more grace and finesse.

Elaine worked hard, day and night, anxious to complete all the courses as quickly as possible, so she could get her career off to a roaring start.

In mid-August, she finished the last class offered by the agency,
Acting in TV Commercials
. She excitedly took the certificate down the hall to Ms. Crawford.

“All done,” Elaine said.

“All done with what?”

“With the acting class,” Elaine said, proudly holding up the signed certificate. “I’ve completed the entire program now.”

“Congratulations,” Ms. Crawford muttered. With her cigarette dangling from her mouth, she took the paper and turned to the file cabinets. “What’s your name again, honey?”

Elaine gritted her teeth. “
Brogan
. Elaine Brogan.”

She pulled Elaine’s file out, dropped the certificate in with all the others, and shut the drawer.

“We’ll call you.”

* * *

Two long weeks passed. School started. Elaine heard nothing from the agency. She had expected the phone to start ringing off the wall for auditions. But every night when she got home, there were no messages on the answering machine.

She finally took the bus downtown to the agency and went straight to Ms. Crawford’s office. The woman was on the phone, as usual. Elaine impatiently tapped her fingers on the counter until she hung up.

“Can I help you?” Ms. Crawford said, lighting up a cigarette from the fire of the previous one.

“Yes.” Elaine mustered up her courage. “I want to know why you’re not calling me for any jobs. I’ve completed the entire training program, and—”

“What’s your name, dear?”

Elaine couldn’t believe it. “Brogan!” she snapped. “
Elaine
Brogan!”

“Don’t get snippy with me, honey. We have hundreds of girls at this agency.”

“I’m sorry...I’m just a little upset. You told me that when I finished the training classes, I would be able to get modeling jobs.”

“I told you no such thing.”

Elaine blinked once. “You said that to be client-ready, I had to have training.”

“That’s right.”

“Well? I’ve taken every training class you offer.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’ve done all the group training. To be client-ready, you also need individual training, one-on-one, with Mr. Eskew.”

Elaine fought the anger that was growing inside her. “And how much does that cost? Another two thousand dollars?”

“My, you’re the jaded one, aren’t you, missy? It so happens that personal training with Mr. Eskew is free.”

Elaine was taken aback. “Free?”

“You have to be personally selected by Mr. Eskew.”

“Oh. And how does that work?”

“By asking for an interview. Would you like me to schedule one for you?”

“Yes, of course.” She added, “Please.”

Ms. Crawford went to a desk calendar and opened it. “Let’s see...Mr. Eskew has an open slot three weeks from—”

“I want an interview
now
. I don’t want to wait three weeks.”

Ms. Crawford stared. Elaine’s heart was beating hard with anxiety, but she intended to hold her ground. She wasn’t going to let herself be pushed around anymore.

The woman ran her pencil down the calendar. “There has been a cancelation for six-thirty tomorrow night—would that suit you?”

“That’s perfect,” Elaine said.

Elaine turned to leave, then looked back. “Thank you.”

Ms. Crawford blew smoke out of the side of her mouth. “The pleasure was all mine.”

* * *

Ronald Eskew, the owner of the agency, was a handsome man. In his 40s, he had a swarthy complexion, long sideburns, and a droopy mustache. He was always immaculately dressed. The only time Elaine ever glimpsed him was on the elevator or passing through the hall to his office. He was always with a beautiful young girl or two, who were decked out in expensive designer outfits.

For her interview, Elaine wore what she thought was her best outfit, a pair of skintight white jeans that showed off her long legs, and a top that revealed her flat stomach. She spent her last three weeks’ pay to have her hair styled and splurged on a professional makeup job, even though she could have done it herself now.

She took the bus to the agency. For some reason, she did not want her father to know what she was doing, so she told him she had to work at the mall. The weather could not have been worse. It was pouring down with rain, the wind blustery. Even with her umbrella she was wet from the knees down when she arrived at Rising Star.

Ms. Crawford let her right in—she didn’t have to wait.

“Well, Ms. Brogan, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Eskew said. “Please have a seat.”

She sat down on his leather couch. His office smelled of cigar smoke and musky aftershave lotion. He closed the door, then pulled up a chair and turned it backwards, sitting directly across from her. He was so close their knees were almost touching. He wore a lot of gold jewelry. She noticed that he had a Rolex watch.

Taking her comp card from her sweaty hand, he glanced at the front, then the back, then looked her up and down, pausing to admire her figure. His gaze rested on her bare stomach. “You have a fresh look. There’s a certain innocence about you that’s appealing.”

“Thank you.”