When She Was Bad... (3 page)

Lita imagined Melissa Menes, the snotty girl at school whose father owned a run-down apartment building, hearing that she’d had a test to be a model. Melissa got her hair dyed platinum blonde in Manhattan every six weeks and had spare money for clothes. She never failed to sneer at Lita. Lita burned, remembering when Melissa scored tickets to see the Beatles and brought them to school, waving them around so the other girls could ooh and aah and crowd around her just to touch them. Lita hadn’t bothered, even though she loved George Harrison with a passion.

‘Not interested? Maybe you got your own seats,’ Melissa had said, then added, with that light little laugh Lita hated so much, ‘but… no, I guess not, huh, t

Melissa always liked to draw out her full name, like she was making a mockery of it. She thought she was Lita’s natural superior. But smoking made her skin thin and her constant tanning in the salons had made it a bit weathered. Besides, there was a lot of ache under that expensive foundation she liked to wear.

Lita told herself to make sure to get the guy’s card when they were all done here. If she didn’t bring back actual proof, nobody would believe her. And she wanted to show o.. She wanted Hector to be proud of

her.

‘OK, baby. Turn a little to the left. Smile. Nice. Now look at me as though I’m your worst enemy.’

Lita was too polite to do that. She gave the cameraman a slight frown.

She hasn’t got it, he thought, mentally shaking his head, and she’s too short. And what do we do with all that T and A?

He paused. There was still half a roll of film left. He couldn’t really use it for much else, didn’t like to get his rolls mixed up. Let the kid dream for a few more seconds, anyway. He hated it when the handlers cut a session short. The unpromising prospect inevitably started to cry and plead and strike stupid, embarrassing poses. Like this Spanish chick. She was as stiff, as a board.

‘OK, thanks, Mizz Morales. We’re going to cut loose now. Don’t

bother posing, just look at the camera and move naturally.’

‘But …’

‘Don’t think. Just move, baby, enjoy it, OK?’

Suppressing a sigh, he moved back behind the lens of the Hasselblad and moved to press his button and get rid of the rest of the film.

Lita started to move.

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ith a rising sense of excitement, he snapped his pictures, the Models Six back room exploding in a sea of light. Hell, she was hot. P,.eally hot. Now she wasn’t being directed, she moved like a star. She almost writhed. Sexuality oozed out of every inch of her golden skin and he didn’t think she even knew it. She was tossing that glossy dark hair, twisting at the waist, eyeing the lens like it was a lover, challenging it, daring it, defying it, those dark eyes flashing, those haughty cheekbones tilted up at him. His mouth had gone dry. He was getting a twitch in his pants. Oh, man, please; boners in the office were a definite no-no. Of course, photographers got to bang girls all the time, that was a perk of being in the model business. But not at a first session, and certainly not at Models Six. You got blacklisted for that kind of stuff. He bit down on his inner cheek to distract himself.

‘Thanks.’ He stood up hastily, and gestured to the door. ‘If you go

back out there, Bill will take your details.’

‘OK,’ she said flatly.

The hot babe had gone. She-was beautiful still, but she had gone back to that quiet, studious teenager that she’d been before. He started to tell her that the session had been great, but it was too late. She’d already walked out.

Outside the studio, Bill took down Lita’s phone number.

‘It takes a while for the shots to get developed. I’ll pass them on to Mr Jack Hammond, he’s the boss around here. If we’re interested, somebody will give you a call, so there’s no need to call us back.’

‘Don’t call us.’ Lita shrugged. ‘No sweat, mister, I get it. Can I have a

copy of your card with the appointment on it?’

‘What for?’

‘I want to tell my friends,’ she said shamelessly.

Bill chuckled. He liked her. Maybe the pictures would come out good. One in every fifty times, that actually happened.

‘Sure, miss. Here you go. And here’s thirty bucks for cab fare.’ ‘Thanks,’ Lita said, pocketing the fortune without blinking. She never turned down free money. Manners only went so far. She rode the elevator out of the impressive marble building with its smoked-glass walls and caught a subway on the next block.

She wasn’t going to waste money on a cab. Lita didn’t believe in wasting money. She could do better things with that {hirty dollars than pour it down the drain.

It was seven-thirty when she finally got home. Mama was in a bad mood.

W

‘I left your plate, but it already got cold. You’ll have to wash up after yourself, too.’

‘Don’t I always, Mama? How was work?’

She blew the air out of her mouth. ‘Work’s work. You know how it

is. Your father already left for the night shift.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lita said, feeling guilty.

‘Just don’t be late again. Chico’s always late, but Pappy relies on seeing you.’ Her face brightened. ‘Chico gave me some money today.. He did good overtime on the site.’

‘That’s great,’ Lita said, wondering whom her brother had jacked up to get an extra twenty bucks for the house. Maybe she was being too cynical. Maybe he had actually done some work. Anyway, money was money. ‘I’m going to be hearing from the colleges soon, Mama.’

‘College. That’s good, honey. But you krtow it’ll be hard to pay for,’ her mother said. She meant it would be hard for Lita to pay for. There

had never been any suggestion that her parents could possibly afford it. ‘But they offer scholarships.’ ‘Those things don’t pay rent, Lita.’ ‘I can take a job.’

‘You? You don’t work,’ Mama scoffed. She loved her daughter, but sometimes the sight of her, her hands still delicate, the nails not chipped and torn, unroughened by honest labour, maddened her. Mrs Morales did not count book-studying as real work.

‘I’m pretty good at typing already. There are people who need that.’

‘If you’re at college all day you can’t be’no secretary,’ Mrs Morales snapped, then instantly regretted it. It was Lita’s birthday today, after all.

Lita sighed. They had this fight almost every time Mama came home. She helped herself to chicken and rice and grabbed a fork. She would eat it cold so she could kiss her Mama and get away into her tiny room quicker.

‘But I could type stuff up at night. Reports and stuff. They farm out that work.’

The phone rang and her mother jumped on it, holding up one hand. ‘Hola. Si. Who is this? What do you want with her?’ Lita jumped up, her heart pounding. Her mother glanced at her.

‘Yes, OK. Yes, I guess you can talk with her.’ She held out the receiver gingerly. ‘Querida, it’s some gentleman from the city. For you.’

‘Oooh, Hector, ally babee,’ Melissa moaned, sitting astride him, grinding away rhythmically. Her parents were out for another hour and she had the place all to herself. It was the second time this week that Hector Fernandez had come over to ‘study’, and Melissa was triumphant.

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Hector had that cool-ass car, and it had been driving her nuts to watch him squiring losalita around in it. Missy couldn’t stand that arrogant bitch, anyway. She wasn’t even popular, despite her glossy hair and her figure, because she was, like, a superbrain swot. Plus, what was she putting on airs for when everyone knew her dad drove a car and her morn worked in a sweatshop? Plus, she wore second-hand shit they bought at the Salvation Army, ridiculous baggy clothes. She had no pride in her appearance, but Missy thought 1

Melissa squeezed her slightly heavy thighs on Hector and bounced up and down so he could get a better view of her tits, blonde hair flying. Mmm, that bitch didn’t know what she was missing. Did she want to die a virgin? Whatever. It was her problem that she couldn’t keep a man.

Hector grunted, looking away, an expression of fierce concentration on his face as he thrust into her.

Melissa smiled, reaching her long, polished fingernails behind her to

tickle Hector’s balls lightly, the way she knew men liked. Rosa Morales

was the one girl in school that had never seemed impressed with Melissa, never paid court to her expensive blonde hair and her nice make-up and her money. Once Melissa had announced that she’d just die if she wasn’t married by twenty-five, and lKosalita had laughed and said she’d just die if she wasn’t in a good job by twenty-five. Like she

was Golda Meir or something. Like she was too good for Melissa. ‘Hey, that’s good,’ Hector gasped, ‘just like that—’

He stared up at Melissa’s jiggliffg tits with those dark, perked nipples, and felt the wave of lust and pressure start to build up. Melissa Menes was not his ideal, but what the luck, Hector was eighteen and it didn’t take much. The thought of what Lira might be hiding under those shapeless duds her Mom made her wear had kept him going for months, but he’d been starting to feel tipped off. Man, she never put out. And Melissa had made it clear she was good to go. Mind you, his friend Jack Metcalf said he’d banged Melissa, too, but any port in a storm.., and she did have real big titties …

Hector grunted, gripped Melissa round the waist and exploded inside her. Yeaaahhh…

Now he had to break up with Lita, but so what? L-ita wasn’t gonna give him anything. Melissa had been nagging him to do if for weeks, and now she was gonna get her wish. He didn’t need no uptight broads. Melissa said Lita had all the makings of a bra-burner, and Hector thought she was tight.

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‘Let’s cuddle,’ Melissa suggested.

Hector grimaced. Hell, no. ‘You should shower, sugar. Your folks will be back soon. Anyway, you want me to meet Lita, huh?’

‘Yeah.’ Melissa’s red-lined lips curled up into a victorious smile. ‘It’s about that time.’

Lita walked to their spot on Castle Avenue - there was a little island on the service road leading down to the Cross-Bronx which had a statue on it. Kids liked to meet there; you could tell, because the base of the plinth was littered with cans, cigarettes and marijuana butts. Hector always met her here and this morning he was waiting for her, too. She squinted to see if he was holding a parcel or a bunch of flowers, but she couldn’t make anything out. Never mind, maybe it was small, like a gold pin or something.

She was almost skipping. Wow, wait till she told Hector they actually wanted her to be a model, wait till he heard the kind of money they were talking about, enough to let her drop out of school, enough so that she could put college off for a few years, maybe even get a house—

Wait. There was someone else with her Hector. A girl. Oh, man’Hector?’ Lira ran across the little road and looked uncomprehend ingly at Melissa Menes, wearing even more foundation than usual and a pair of little gold studs in her ears. ‘What is this? Did you bring my birthday gift?’

Melissa burst out giggling. ‘It’s your birthday?’

‘It was yesterday.’ Lira stared at her. ‘What are you doing here, Melissa?’

‘I came to wait with my boyfriend.’

Lita’s eyes rounded. Hector was staring at his shoes.

‘Your boyfriend?’

‘That’s right. Hector don’t want to see you.no more.’ Melissa shoved

an elbow in Hector’s ribs. ‘Ain’t that right, baby?’

‘You didn’t give me nuttin’,’ Hector grumbled.

Lita shook her head. ‘I thought we had something, man.’

‘Well, you didn’t.’ Melissa’s eyes flashed triumphantly under her mop of blonde hair.

‘You blew it, Hector.’ Lita blinked back the tears that threatened to spring to her eyes. ‘I told you we could get out of here together.’

‘That was always bullshit, Lita.’ Hector looked at her sullenly. ‘This is good enough for me.’

‘And me,’ Melissa piped up.

Lita shrugged. ‘But not me. See you two around.’

She turned on her heel and walked off.

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‘A thousand,’ the young woman said.

Richard Jenner, the President of Women’s Magazines, stared helplessly at the model. He looked at Bill Fisher for help, but the booker just shrugged his shoulders powerlessly. Models weren’t supposed to negotiate their own rates. Please. They were there to show up, shut up and smile. But everybody knew about Rosalita Morales. She was a fly in the ointment. She had never had a cover, never graced the front of Cosmo or Glamour, but she had attitude like she was All McGraw. Somehow she’d gotten hold of the rate sheet for regular jobs like this one, and she charged a full fifteen per cent more than the going rate. His deputies had warned him that she was non-negotiable, but he’d thought he could charm her.

He’d thought wrong.

‘That’s a little high, isn’t it, P,.osalita?’

Lita narrowed those lovely dark eyes. ‘Your circulation is a half million copies per issue. You can afford it.’

He would have bristled with rage if another woman had spoken to him this way. But what could h do? She was standing there in that sprayed-on silver miniskirt riding high and tight on those golden thighs, with a vest made of mesh links pulled across those glorious breasts, held together by nothing more than a piece of tape. It was hard to be mad with her. Jenner was concentrating on not losing his professional cool. She was also wearing outrageously stacked cream thigh-high boots, which brought that arrogant, slanted face right up to his. A dusting of sheer pink over her eyebrows, white eyeliner to brighten her pupils, and a slick of gloss on her lips, and she was ready to shoot. He couldn’t recall when he’d had another model do an editorial for City Woman wearing so little make-up.

What was the scoop on this one? Discreet sources at Models Six had assured him she didn’t put out. Models that hadn’t made it’all the way were usually so pliable. He could drop Si Newhouse’s name, mention Cond Nast, assure her of a push for that coveted Vo2ue cover. If that didn’t work, usually a piece ofjewellery was enough to see the little lace