Read Online Down 'N' Derby by Lila Felix - Free Book Online Page A

question but I couldn’t hear her over the ‘Pssss’ sound of the aerosol hair spray she covered me with. 
                  I waved in front of myself and coughed once.  I’m sure at this point my lungs weren’t even expanding or relaxing.  They were glued in place by all of the aspirated hair spray. 
                  “Ma’am?” I asked the boisterous lady who was inspecting her work.
                  “I said, ‘How old are you?’ You don’t look a day over fourteen to me.” She stuck a few more bobby pins in my hair and some, I swear, directly into my scalp. 
                  “I’m twenty one.  But thank you.” I answered politely.  I got that question all the time.  I didn’t look a day over fourteen even plastered with coats of make-up.  It didn’t help the fact that I was only five foot two and a hundred and twenty pounds.  I was like a fourth grade pin up model.  And if I really thought about it too hard, that’s probably why I was so popular as a car model.  I looked young—eeew.  That’s why I was so defensive about what I would and wouldn’t wear.  Most of the girls in these car shows wore Brazilian cut bikinis or lingerie.  But I was a pin-up model and so that gave me a little more leeway in my choices.  But still my manager, Louise, always tried to make the shirt show more cleavage or cut the skirt a little shorter.  Thank God she was too busy to be present at this show.  I got to pick my own outfit and most of the vintage clothes covered everything just right. 
                  I got the pat on my shoulder, signaling my hair was done and I moved over to the wardrobe section, ecstatic to pick out my own clothes.  I always brought my own clothes but shoes were usually given to us.  I picked out a pair of stiletto peep toes in red.  I found my size easily.  I wore a size six shoe and most of the tall girls had big feet to match so finding a show to fit me was never difficult.  I clip clopped over to the clothing and found my pair of dark gray sailor high waisted shorts and a red cropped short sleeve cardigan.  I stepped behind the never used curtain and changed quickly.  I examined myself in front of the mirror and even though the cardigan showed a little midriff, it was better than a bikini any day of the week. I finagled some cherry earrings in my ears and a chunky bracelet made of dice and went towards the vintage car section.  This was day one of a two day car show and in Vegas that meant at least twelve hours of posing and smiling and being man handled by guys ranging from adolescence to those who had to put their walker out of the shot and lean on me.  But still I had to smile, ‘cause that’s what they paid me for. 
                  “Missy, you’re in the front left with the Dodge Dart.  Move between that and the GTO.” The man directing me around was a squatty bald man with thin spectacles and a clipboard.  He also seemed to have a little man complex, someone should snap his clipboard in half.
                  “Ok, thanks.” I said and made sure to walk to my hips swung out just enough to be sexy but not so much that I got off balance in my stilettos and ate cement.  There was already a line waiting for me and this was the part I despised.  It wasn’t them.  It was totally me.  I didn’t like this part, the men got handsy and it bothered me.  But this was the only way I could earn enough money to pay for school since I royally screwed up in high school.  And I could make excuse after excuse about why I fouled up but in the eyes of colleges, the issue was black and white.  You don’t make the grades, you don’t get in.
                  I introduced myself to the owner of the Dodge Dart and the first man in line took his place beside me for the pictures.  There were always pictures.  Some men and a few women would bring their own pictures or posters