A Not-So-Simple Life (11 page)

“Maya Stark…” She said my name slowly. “Nick Stark’s daughter, I understand.”

I nodded without saying anything. Really, what was there to say?

She peered curiously at me now. “So tell me, Maya Stark. Why does Nick Stark’s daughter wish to become a model? The truth, please.”

I looked evenly back at her and remembered what Myrna had told me last night—this woman didn’t want any attitude. And I didn’t plan to give her any.

“The truth is, I never really wantedto be a model. I just need to make money, and Myrna suggested modeling.”

Her narrow brows arched ever so slightly. “And why does Nick Stark’s daughter need to earn her own money?”

“To live.”

She picked up a silver pen now, holding it like a cigarette and rocking it between her fingers. “Have you any experience?”

So I told her about working at Ralph Lauren’s and how I often wore the clothes there. “That’s kind of like modeling, isn’t it?”

She nodded, then wrote something down with her silver pen.

“Look,” I said quickly, knowing that this wasn’t only crazy but futile, “I’m obviously not the model type, and I don’t want to waste your—”

“Hush.”

So I shut my mouth and waited.

“I seriously doubt whether you know enough about fashion to determine who is and who is not ‘the modeling type,’ as you put it. But I have more than thirty years of experience in this industry. How about you let me be the judge of that? Now stand up.”

“Huh?”

“Do not say ‘huh.’”

“Pardon me?”

“Stand up.”

So I stood.

“Now walk.”

I took a breath, then walked across the floor, turned around when I was nearly to the wall, and walked back.

She gasped. “Good grief.”

“What?”

“You walk like a farmer.”

“Why, thank you,” I said a bit smugly. “I do have a garden, and I wouldn’t mind—”

“Hush! Now turn around. Do a slow three-sixty.”

So I slowly turned.

“Hold your chin up.”

I held my chin up.

“How tall are you?”

“I…uh…I’m not sure.” I was flashing back to Vivian and the comments she’d made about my height. Still, I knew that height was an advantage in this part of the fashion world.

“And I suppose you don’t know how much you weigh either?”

“Well, no…”

“Do you happen to know what size you wear?”

“In Ralph Lauren clothes I’m a four.”

She wrote this down, then picked up her phone. “Marla, I need you to get the stats on a girl for me. Do you have time?”
She paused. “Yes, now! Of course, I mean now. Fine, I’ll send her over.” Then she slammed down the phone and swore. “Imbecile.”

I was still standing there, wondering what I was supposed to do next. And she was still sitting there just staring at me.

“You put me in an awkward position, Maya.”

“Why?”

“Most people who come in here actually wish to model. That doesn’t seem to be the case with you.”

I considered this. “It’s not that I’m unwilling—”

She laughed now. Kind of a cackly laugh. “Honestly, I should send you packing.”

“It’s just that I had never dreamed of modeling…you know?”

“But you’re willing…”

“Yes. And I would work hard. I’ve been working all summer, and I know how to work hard.”

“Do you?” She looked skeptical.

“You’re probably thinking that as Nick Stark’s daughter, I’ve had a privileged life. Well, you’re wrong about that. If you don’t believe me, ask Myrna.”

She seemed surprised by this.

“Look, I’m going to lay my cards on the table with you, Ms. Montgomery. My mother is an addict. My dad is on the road. I am working so I can be emancipated from my parents.
I want to live on my own and support myself. I’m practically doing that now.”

She leaned forward, and her brow creased with what seemed genuine interest. “Is that so?”

“Yes. My plan is to be on my own by the time I turn sixteen. But to do that, I need money.”

She nodded. “When do you turn sixteen?”

“December twelfth.”

She made note of this too. “And what about schooling?”

I explained how I’d been doing homeschool. “I’ve been using a curriculum that’s supposed to be pretty good.”

“And are you smart?”

“Smart?”

“Yes, that’s what I asked.”

“I guess that depends on how you define smart. When I was in public school, I was identified as gifted. Not that it means much.”

“Have you considered taking an equivalency test?”

“What’s that?”

“Some call it a GED, a general equivalency diploma. You take atest that assesses your education. Some of our younger models do that in lieu of graduating from high school proper. A GED allows you to work as you like and to proceed on to college when you’re ready to do so. So many of our models are young, and it’s difficult to model and
attend school regularly. Well, that’s if you’re a good model and in demand. Getting your GED is an easy way to keep everyone happy.”

“Oh…”

“Just something to consider, that is if you’re seriously considering modeling.”

“I don’t know if I could be seriously considered.”

She laughed again, only that time it sounded a bit merrier. “I’m offering to represent you, Maya.”

“You are?”

“Yes. But only if you give me your word that you will take this seriously.”

“Of course.”

“Because I doubt that you have a portfolio yet.”

“A portfolio?”

“Sample photos, comps, that sort of thing.”

“No…”

“My agency will help you put this together, but once you start being paid, we will deduct this expense from your checks. Do you understand?”

“But I will make money, right?”

“If you do good work…if people want you.”

“In the meantime, can I keep my job at Ralph Lauren?”

“It will make scheduling you awkward.”

“But I need to make money.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll want to work hard for us, because that is where your opportunity to make money lies, Maya.”

“You think people would actually hire me?”

“I’m rather certain of it, but it’s a risk you need to be willing to take yourself. And that means you should probably give your notice at Ralph Lauren. I expect that you could have jobs to do two weeks from now.”

I nodded and swallowed hard. Was this a risk I was really willing to take?

“Go see Maria, and she’ll get you set up.”

I still had questions, but I could tell I’d been dismissed, so I stood and thanked her.

“That’s all,” she said crisply as she picked up her phone.

Of course, I didn’t know who Maria was or where to find her, but the receptionist, a thin blonde named Katy, pointed me in the right direction. And before long I was being weighed and measured by a Nazilike woman. Maria Eisenberg. Without the slightest bit of warmth, she snapped orders and then frowned as she measured my chest, waist, and hips. Then she let out these big sighs as she wrote the numbers down, as if there was something terribly wrong with my dimensions. And suddenly I wondered if I could trust these people. Maybe I should rethink that bit about giving notice on my job.

“Stand up straight,” she snapped at me as she measured my height, which turned out to be five foot ten and a half. I tried to cooperate, but the whole time I wondered why
someone like Felicity Montgomery put up with someone like Maria. Besides being cranky, she didn’t seem to have the slightest bit of fashion sense. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what her job at the agency was. Mostly I just tried to get it over with and get out of there.

As I passed through the reception area heading straight for the door, Katy called out. “Wait, Maya. I have something for you.”

“Oh?” I went back to her desk, and she handed me a shiny black folder.

“There are some forms to fill out, tax stuff and whatever. Also, that yellow card on top has information on your photo shoot appointment.”

I opened the folder and looked at the yellow card. “Photo shoot?”

“You know, for your portfolio. Sounds like you’re on the fast track.”

“Oh.” I nodded like this was not a surprise.

“Anyway, you better head over there. The only time Yuri could take you was at 11:45, and that’s like five minutes from now.”

“Five minutes?”

“No problem, his studio is just a couple of blocks down. Turn left on Crescent.”

So feeling slightly out of breath, I arrived at the photo studio on time, and the next thing I knew, Yuri was shooting me.
Of course, I had no idea that I would need to change outfits for this shoot. Fortunately, Yuri’s assistant, Danika, had a whole rack of items to choose from. She also helped me with makeup. It seemed she had done some modeling herself.

“We left Ukraine for better life,” she explained as she fiddled with my hair. “Modeling paid our way. Then I have baby and retire.” She patted her tummy. “And Yuri’s photography took off.”

I felt extremely uncomfortable and self-conscious when Yuri first started pointing the camera at me, but thanks to Danika’s constant cheerful chatter, I began to relax until I was almost unaware that he was taking pictures.

“A swimsuit?” I said as Danika handed me a slinky, one-piece black suit.

“Your portfolio is not complete without swimsuit shot. But no worries, Maya. You have beautiful figure.”

I reluctantly put on the swimsuit but then refused to leave the dressing room. Finally, after I explained to Danika that the high cut of the suit was making me uncomfortable, she allowed me to use an oversize silk scarf as a cover-up.

“But you must get bikini wax,” she said quietly before I went out.

Okay, that was humiliating. But I guess the rest wasn’t so bad. And I really liked Yuri and Danika. As it turned out, they sacrificed their lunch break just so they could shoot more photos of me.

“She is so beautiful,” Danika assured her husband as they were finishing up. “When she is on cover of Vogue, we will say we shot her first.”

“We’ll send the photos to Montgomery’s,” Danika told me as I was leaving. “Probably early next week or sooner. Ms. Montgomery said to rush.”

“I’m sorry you missed lunch.”

“Missing a meal will not harm my waistline.” Danika smiled at the girl in the waiting area, a pretty redhead with freckles and huge green eyes. “You’re next, Campbell,” she told her, then quickly introduced us. “Campbell is another one of our favorite girls. She’s with Montgomery’s too. Maybe you girls will work together soon.”

After I left, I stopped at a nearby deli and asked the man behind the counter if Yuri and Danika ever ate there.

“Oh yeah, those guys are the best.”

So I asked him to fix something they’d like. “And can you have it delivered?”

“No problem.”

Then I paid him, put a tip in the jar, and left. I didn’t care if they knew it was from me or not; it just felt good to repay their kindness. Kind of like karma. What comes around goes around. Or so they say…

I
t’s been a month since I signed with the Montgomery Agency. And my savings account is just starting to show it. Ms. Montgomery set me up for some training, but only after I agreed to quit my job at Ralph Lauren. I wasn’t so sure at first…it seemed like a risk to say good-bye to a paying job. But this last week I’ve had three different appointments as well as several callbacks for next week.

But here’s the strangest part about all this. Shannon. Okay, I thought she might be a teeny-tiny bit excited about this new development in my life. Because for one thing, Shannon adores fashion and clothes. Besides that, she’s picked on me for years for not caring about my appearance, and now I have to care, and she doesn’t seem to even notice. And finally, Shannon loves fame and fortune. At least that’s the impression I’ve always gotten from her. Well, unless she’s in her binge mode and not conscious of anything besides getting her next hit. Otherwise, Shannon pays careful attention to who’s who in Hollywood. She reads the
magazines and gossip rags and always has her own spin on why someone is or isn’t doing well. It’s like she’s the expert on everyone’s life, well, except her own. So you’d think she might be slightly interested in her daughter’s “modeling career.” Not that I plan on being famous or rich or even on doing this for long. But just the same, I would’ve expected a little more enthusiasm from her. Maybe even a little support. Ha!

To make this thing even more confusing, she’s been staying clean lately. And she’s been attending her rehab meetings. Of course, being clean can make her pretty grumpy too. And maybe that’s why she’s acting so weird about this. Sometimes I almost think she’s jealous. Like when I finally got her to go with me to the Montgomery Agency in order to sign the parental release form. Ms. Montgomery had been nagging me for a week to get this done.

“I can’t imagine this will go anywhere for you.” Shannon spoke loudly enough for anyone in the office to hear her. Not that anyone was listening. We were in the waiting room, and she’d been acting kind of snooty and arrogant, like she was so much better than everyone else there, like this agency was just a hole in the wall.

“Kind of small potatoes, isn’t it?” she said when we walked in. Naturally, I pretended not to hear. I hadn’t bothered to tell her that Felicity Montgomery had previously been with the
Ford agency or that she represented some pretty big West Coast names. I mean, what would be the point?

Despite Shannon’s superior attitude, I hadn’t missed how she had really fixed herself up for this appointment. Her hair was styled, and she was dressed impeccably in one of her favorite designer outfits. Okay, I thought she looked pretty slutty in it, especially considering her age, but I could tell by how she was walking that she was feeling good about herself. Maybe she thought they’d offer to represent her too. And maybe that would be a good thing…help keep her clean and sober. I mean, who knows?