Read Online Plus by Veronica Chambers - Free Book Online Page B

muffin, I was totally going to lose her number and forget all about this whole modeling thing.
    “Great. Then maybe you can come over in about half an hour. We’ll discuss all the details, and I’ll draw up a contract.”
    I said okay, hung up the phone. Then called Chela. She wasn’t there; I left a message. Feeling just a little bad for betraying our pact, I left a message for Brian and another for Aunt Zo. Desperate to speak to a real live person, I called my mom.
    “Don’t you have physics on Thursday afternoons?” my mother said.
    Trust her to memorize my schedule.
    “Mom, I’m being offered a modeling contract for Prada.”
    “Hmm, Prada,” she said. “Let me do some research on where their factories are and how the World Bank assesses their manufacturing policies.”
    “Mom, do you even know what Prada is?”
    She was quiet for a second, then she said, “They’re not coming up in my database. Maybe I’m not spelling it correctly.”
    “I’m hanging up now, Mom.”
    Which I did. Which tells you everything you need to know about my mother and why Columbia is not nearly far away enough from Philadelphia to spare me from her misery. I did get into Stanford. I could’ve gone there, I thought as I tried, very daintily, to finish my chocolate chip muffin.
    I pulled out my phone and called my dad at his office.
    “Dad, I got a modeling contract.”
    “A part-time job at a department store? That’s great, Bee. Your grandmother used to go see the models at Wanamaker’s. I think they served sandwiches.”
    “No, Dad, it’s not that kind of modeling. This is for a photo shoot. I think it’s going to be in a magazine or something.”
    “Well, that’s great, Bee.”
    “Thanks, Dad.”
    “I’ve got a meeting next Tuesday at the Natural History Museum next week. Can I buy my best girl lunch?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “You know I always told you that B stood for ‘beautiful.’”
    Which is true. I liked to joke that the B in my name stood for ‘below average,’ but my dad always says the same thing, “I call you Bee ’cause you’re beautiful.” Which tells you everything you need to know about Dad.
    In high school, I knew this really rich girl named Siohbahn. Her mother had done something really incredible like invented the BlackBerry. Anytime someone asked her a question like how much her boots cost or if it was expensive to go skiing at Vail, she always said that it was “gauche” to talk about money. Aunt Zo says only people who actually have money think talking about it is so déclassé. This is all to say that I’m going to give you the real scoop. I don’t give a rip if it’s gauche or déclassé.
    I walked into Leslie’s office, and she told me that they were booking me for three days at “five a day.” She said, “It’s not much, I know. But you’ve never done this before, so you don’t have a quote. Hell, you don’t even have a portfolio. Technically, the advertising agency is taking a big chance on you. But the upside is that while the money is low, the perks are high. The shoot is in Italy. They’ll fly you business class and put you up for four nights at the Villa d’Este.”
    All this time, I’m thinking the free trip is cool. But these people want to pay me five dollars a day. If I wanted five dollars a day, I could’ve stayed at home and done household chores for my mother, who, not for nothing, is not too busy for third world causes but is too busy to take out her own recycling. So I decide to try to negotiate. “Can I bring a friend?” I ask.
    Leslie looked seriously bothered, “Bee, this is a business trip, not a social trip. It’s very important that you don’t get that confused. Everyone thinks that modeling is so glamorous, but as you’ll soon discover, it’s really hard work.”
    This is the point where I should’ve just shut up, but I figured what did I have to lose? “But if you’re only going to pay me five a day . . .” I said.
    Leslie smiled.