A Not-So-Simple Life (12 page)

“So you’re Maya’s mother,” Ms. Montgomery said when we were seated in her office.

“Yes.” Shannon made a dramatic little sigh. “My daughter informs me that she wants to be a model.”

Ms. Montgomery cleared her throat, then looked directly at me. I knew she was remembering my confession that I did not want to be a model and that I simply wanted to make money—and be emancipated. I was holding my breath just then, but thankfully, Ms. Montgomery did not mention this. Instead, she got right to business.

“Because Maya doesn’t drive,” she began, “there is some natural concern about her making her appointments on time. Punctuality is crucial in this industry. As they say, time is money. So, Mrs. Stark, do you intend to act as Maya’s chauffeur?”

Shannon laughed in an incredulous way. “Maya’s chauffeur?”

“Maya will need reliable transportation and sometimes on short notice. We need to be assured that—”

“I know how to use public transportation,” I said quickly. “And I have a bike, and if I had to, I could always call a taxi.”

Ms. Montgomery adjusted her black-rimmed glasses and peered curiously at me.

“Maya is a resourceful girl,” said Shannon smugly, “and very mature for her age.”

“Yes…” Ms. Montgomery slowly nodded. “I can see that.”

“I suppose most young girls dream of becoming models or actresses,” Shannon continued lightly, almost as if she were the guest of a talk show and the camera was pointed at her now. “They have such a sense of entitlement anymore, assuming that celebrity comes easily.”

She laughed. And then she went on about her acting career, painting it much larger than it had ever been. Then finally saying, sadly, how her career had been cut short when she married.

“I was at my prime, and Nick wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Ms. Montgomery’s expression was a mixture of irritation and interest. And she just let my mom continue to ramble. I wanted to disappear.

“Nick didn’t want me to continue my acting career. His
music was so demanding. And then, of course, Maya came along, and I was cast in a new role…as mother.” Then, almost as if she really thought she was at an acting audition, Shannon actually tossed a maternal smile in my direction.

“Yes…” Ms. Montgomery quickly slid the paperwork across her desk. “Now, Mrs. Stark, if you could simply read this over, at your leisure of course, and sign the portions where the contract has been flagged, we’ll be all—”

“I’ll sign it now.” Shannon reached for her bag, fumbling until she found a pen. Then without reading a single line, she signed the papers and slid them back. “Anything else?”

“Not really.” Ms. Montgomery glanced at me. “Except that I’d like to meet with Maya briefly now.”

“Without me?” Shannon blinked, then looked slightly offended.

“Of course you may stay if you like, Mrs. Stark. But I’m sure you’d be bored, and a busy woman like you must have a hundred other things to do. I hate to waste your time.”

“Well, yes…I suppose so.” Shannon stood, then looked curiously at me. Did she expect me to beg her to stay?

“Don’t worry. I can walk home,” I said.

So Shannon left, and despite everything, I found myself feeling slightly sorry for her again. She seemed so out of place in there. Such a total misfit. But to be fair, I think we’re both misfits. Maybe that’s just the way we were meant to be.

After Shannon was gone, Ms. Montgomery told me that my portfolio had come back. “It looks quite nice, Maya. You can pick it up from the front desk.”

Then she explained about tear sheets, the photo samples I’m supposed to leave behind after appointments, and callbacks, meaning that someone liked my tear sheet and wants to see me again. She also told me how it was vital to always be accessible and how I should check in with the agency every morning by nine. She filled me in on some financial details, explaining how the agency would cover my expenses for training, which I was supposed to start the next day, as well as a few other things (like beauty supplies).

“We realize these are costly, but they are necessary,” she told me. “And like your portfolio, the expenses will be deducted from your first checks.”

Consequently, although it seemed like I should’ve made a lot of money, my first agency check, which I got today, was not very impressive. After the agency’s percentage, the photo shoot, the portfolio, and various other expenses were deducted, I made even less than I would’ve earned at Ralph Lauren.

“That’s not bad,” Campbell Klopstein told me this afternoon. “Good grief, it took me three months to break even with the agency. My parents thought I was nuts not to quit.”

“Really?” I studied her. She was so pretty and confident and, according to what I’d been hearing, in great demand
in the LA. fashion world. It was hard to imagine a model like her just scraping by.

“Fortunately, I was still living at home back then. But after a year or so, I knew I’d made the right choice.”

We were on a callback for a new cosmetic line. I wasn’t sure if we were in competition with each other or if they were considering using both of us. But I realized if it was a competition, Campbell would probably come out on top. Not only is her skin flawless, other than the freckles, but she has this most amazing nose. Small and narrow and, I’m guessing, very photogenic. And I had just gotten a zit on my chin. Still, I knew better than to concentrate on this flaw. A blemish could be covered or airbrushed. Welcome to the plastic world of fashion.

So as we sat there, I tried to remember some of the things I’d been learning. Ways to relax and give the camera your best. In some ways it felt like a mind game. And I’d been doing my “mirror work” (something I’d learned in one of my training sessions). The goal is to spend five minutes or less in front of the mirror while you practice smiling in a natural way. And while you do this, you concentrate on how your facial muscles feel so that when you’re in front of the camera, you can do it again. You can also do it with body poses. Whether it’s tilting a shoulder or placing a hand on the hip, there are ways that look natural and comfortable and ways that just make you look stupid.

At first I found this whole thing degrading and humiliating, like I’m a puppet that’s being paid to perform. Or worse, a piece of meat that’s being used to sell something I would never in a million years purchase myself. It all goes so against the grain with me. But it’s the price I must pay for now.

As it turned out, Campbell and I had both been selected for the cosmetic company shoot. First they shot us together and then separately. It took most of the day. And afterward we went out and got coffee.

“How long have you been modeling?” I asked.

“I was about your age when I started. I’ll be nineteen next month. Do the math.”

“Do you plan to continue?”

“Sure.” She grinned. “It’s not a bad life, you know. The money’s good, and the hours are doable. Why wouldn’t I keep doing it?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know…”

“You mean am I worried I’ll get too old?”

“No, that’s not what—”

“Because it’s not like I’m delusional. I’m fully aware that most girls can’t do this for long. And I’ve considered going to New York…”

“Why?”

“To broaden my career, of course. That’s where it’s really happening.”

“Oh…”

“But I hate to leave my boyfriend.” I nodded. “Is it serious?”

She laughed. “It is with me, and I’m hoping it is with him too.”

I tried to imagine how it would feel to be serious about a guy. I mean, I’ve had secret crushes but never anything I would call serious.

“We moved in together last summer, and I know it sounds crazy at my age, but I could imagine being married to Gray.” She sighed happily. “I mean, we are so perfect for each other. He’s this really organized and slightly geekish dude, and I’m totally the opposite—crazy and messy and spontaneous.”

“And you actually get along?”

“Like peanut butter and jelly.” She grinned. “And I’m the jelly.”

“Oh…”

Then she started telling me more about some of the pitfalls of modeling, things to watch out for and people to trust or not to trust. I was almost tempted to take notes. Hopefully, I could remember all this.

“Am I overloading you?” she said finally, glancing at her watch.

“No. I really appreciate the inside information.”

“Well, feel free to call me if you ever need to chat or want to know something about somebody. I may have only been
doing this for three years, but I pretty much know the dirt on everyone by now.”

Then we exchanged business cards, the ones provided by the agency, with their number as well as our cell phones. And we went our separate ways. She went home to Gray, and I went home to see if Shannon was still around. To my surprise, considering it’s a Friday night, she was. But not surprisingly, she was holed up in her room.

In some ways Campbell is the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in a long time. Of course, I doubt she sees it that way. I mean, it’s not like she invited me to call her up so we could just hang. Besides being a lot older than me, she’s involved in a serious relationship. I’m sure that takes a lot of her spare time. Still, it would be nice to have a real friend.

Once again Shannon and I are like two ships in the night. I’m pretty sure she’s using again, although I have no idea why. Well, other than the fact that she’s an addict. But really, it seemed like life had smoothed out here for us. She actually paid some bills, and the house wasn’t a total disaster. In fact, she almost seemed happy. And I almost felt hopeful.

But then she started to complain about being bored. Sometimes I wonder if she’s bipolar. I don’t know much about it, other than it causes mood swings. And even after I read about it on the Internet, I couldn’t be sure. It seems like there
are a lot of different kinds of bipolar. Plus, using drugs and alcohol can really complicate detection. I suspect she’s a combination of a lot of things. I just wish she’d grow up and get over it. However, I doubt that’s going to happen anytime soon.

The good news is that I’m making good money now. Okay, on some levels it feels like bad money. Or maybe just dirty money. Because, like Campbell warned me, there are some skanks in this industry. I’m sort of surprised at how many people assume that because I’m modeling, I’m also willing to sell my soul to the devil. Although to be fair, I’m not so sure there is a devil…or a God. Anyway, it’s sad how models get a reputation for certain things like wanting to have sex with a photographer or stylist or the slimeball doing the lighting. I try to make myself perfectly clear around certain forms of lowlife. And Ms. Montgomery has made it known that she doesn’t want her models compromised in any way.

Naturally, I never point out just how compromised I feel every time I pose in front of a camera. I figure that’s my problem. In a way I am prostituting myself for money. Okay, I’m not having sex, but I’m selling my body and my face. And it really makes me sick. This whole industry makes me sick. And I hope that as soon as I’m free, I will find a more wholesome line of work.

Speaking of emancipation, I took my GED test and passed with flying colors. I actually studied for it and was surprised at
how easy it was. Still, it feels weird to be finished with high school—without having gone one day. And it makes me sad. And lonely.

I
t’s Thanksgiving today. Not that anyone in this house pays attention to such traditional nonsense. And not that I care since I don’t eat turkey and since I feel this holiday is simply the celebration of white people taking over a country that would’ve been better off without them. But that’s just my take on it. Still, I can’t help but wonder about the whole family thing. The image of happy American families gathering to—gag—eat meat and watch football games is slightly intriguing. Even to a vegan.

Anyway, I would probably be totally depressed by the fact that I pretty much have no family and Shannon is AWOL again…except for one thing. I got paid yesterday, and it was the biggest check yet. My savings account has more than ten thousand dollars in it now! I know that doesn’t sound like much to some people, but I feel like a millionaire.

The other thing that makes me extremely happy is knowing my birthday is only two weeks away. Emancipation day! Okay, not exactly. But it’s the day I intend to file. And I’ve already done the research and have a plan that will pressure
both my parents into agreeing. Sure, some might call it blackmail. Particularly Shannon. But I simply call it a full disclosure of the facts unless they both sign on the dotted line.

And if all goes well, I will soon be on my own! I’ve already started to look for another place to live. At this point I think I’ll try to rent a room somewhere nearby. Although I did find a studio for less than eight hundred dollars a month. If I could find someone to live with me, it might work. Not that anyone is stepping up to offer. Still, I’m keeping my eyes open. And if I take a roommate, I will make sure that she doesn’t do drugs or alcohol. And that she has a respectable job. Not that I consider mine terribly respectable, but that could change in the new year.

On the other hand, if I moved out of Beverly Hills, I might save money. But then there’s the transportation thing. To get to jobs, if I keep modeling, I would probably need a car. And although I’ve been studying for my license, there are some obstacles. Like drivers’ training, which I haven’t had. Also, I don’t even have a learner’s permit yet. Anyway, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to afford a car. Even a cheap car, with gas and insurance, would tap my budget. Sometimes, like today, I wonder why a fifteen-year-old girl has to figure these things out.