Read Online Changing Teams by Jennifer Allis Provost - Free Book Online

work. My gray mood was because my weekend had ended and there was no work to go to.
    Sure, I had stuff booked for later in the week, but it bothered me that I still hadn’t scored any regular gigs. My plan had been to work my butt off modeling for a six to nine months, save up enough to pay my bills for the next few months, and take some time off from modeling to concentrate on my art. However, that first part of my plan hinged on people not only hiring me, but hiring me for regularly scheduled, well-paying gigs.
    And that’s how I’d ended up sitting naked before a room full of art students.
    So I spent the morning trolling websites looking for gigs that seemed legitimate; there weren’t many. I did see a few open casting calls, but I hated those. All the respondents were herded around like cattle, clutching head shots and batting their eyelashes at who they hoped were the right people. Okay, most models didn’t behave that way, but it only took one to irritate me, and no one wants to hire an irritated Britt.
    After checking my email for the bazillionth time and finding nothing from my agent, I sent Astrid a text.
     
    Britt: Lunch?
     
    Her reply came a few minutes later:
     
    Astrid: Sure. Café near my place in 30?
     
    Britt: Sounds good.
     
    The café in question was Café Luna, a bistro situated almost exactly between my apartment and Astrid’s. Geography alone hadn’t made the café our go-to hangout; the proprietors had the decency to serve their breakfast menu until two in the afternoon on weekdays. Really, all restaurants should be so civilized.
    I got to the café before Astrid, which was no great surprise. Early on in our friendship I’d learned to add fifteen minutes onto Astrid’s estimated times of arrival. Just after I’d chosen one of the outdoor tables and ordered a beer, I got a call from my mother.
    “Hey, Mom,” I greeted. “What’s up?”
    “You are aware that Melody’s wedding is Saturday?” she said, forgoing a proper greeting to her only child. “Why haven’t you sent in your RSVP?”
    “Um.” Truth be told, I was hoping that if I laid low for a few weeks, everyone would forget about me and I could avoid the event altogether. Melody was my cousin on my stepfather Patrick’s side, the eldest child of his dearly departed sister. While Melody and I had gotten along well when we were younger, once we graduated high school our lives took very different paths. I went on to college with the intent of becoming an artist, while Melody concentrated on honing her gold digger skills.
    “Would you believe me if I said I forgot?” I asked.
    “No,” was Mom’s frosty reply. “Let me help you out. I’ll check off your response for you. Will you and your guest be having chicken, fish, or beef?”
    “Guest?” I repeated. “I have to subject a poor innocent to all of this?”
    Mom was silent for a moment; I could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose. “The invitation was for you and a guest. Did you even read it?”
    “I read most of it.” Mom made a soft, strangled sound, and I knew I was getting off easy. I can only imagine the tongue lashing she’d gotten from Patrick about my failure to respond. “What kind of fish will it be?”
    “Salmon, your favorite,” Mom replied. “Will your plus one be having salmon as well?”
    “Better put down chicken,” I said, since I really had no idea who I was going to ask to go with me. I liked my friends, which was why I kept them as far away from all Sullivan-centered events as possible.
    “Thank you, sweetie,” Mom said. “See you Saturday?”
    “Saturday it is.”
    I ended the call and held my head in my hands, thinking of all the wonderful things I could be doing with my weekend instead of spending it at Melody’s wedding. I could do some laundry, scrub the grout in my shower, or volunteer to scrape gum off playground equipment…
    “Why the long face?” Astrid asked as she sat opposite me.
    “I have to go to my