Trail Mates (5 page)

“Didn’t you hear Max talking about him to Red?” Lisa asked. “Said he’d never seen a better stable worker!”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Carole asked Stevie. “It means your plan didn’t work and you’ve got to come up with something else!”

The girls were sitting at a booth at Tastee Delight—or TD’s, as the ice cream parlor at the local shopping center was called. The three members of The Saddle Club met there frequently for treats after riding. They called such gatherings Saddle Club meetings because the subject was usually horses. Today, however, the subject was Scott.

“Oh, there are lots of other things you can do,” Stevie assured her.

“Like what?” Carole challenged.

“The first thing you do is start talking about your other boyfriends,” Stevie advised.

“I don’t have any,” Carole reminded her.

“But he doesn’t know that,” Lisa said.

“I can’t do that. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Okay, okay,” Stevie said. “Here’s another idea. Talk too much. Bore him to death by talking about horses. You can do
that
, can’t you?”

Carole glanced at Stevie. “Very funny. Besides, I already
do.
He hangs on every word I say. Today, I was talking about colic. You should have heard me go on about it. He even wanted to hear the part about milk of magnesia!”

“Oh, yuck!” Stevie said, putting her spoon back down on her plate. “Nobody likes that part.”

“You’re right,” Carole agreed. “You two would have shut me up long before I got to that!”

Stevie and Lisa smiled. It was true that Carole was prone to talking about horses too much—and in too much detail. It was hard to imagine anybody listening to her complete discussion of a horse’s digestive problems!

“Okay, then, be boring about something else. Tell him you have a really dull hobby. I have a nerdy cousin who collects beer cans. Want to try that?”

“Wouldn’t work,” Carole said. “
He
collects matchbook covers.”

“Bugs? Want to tell him you have a bug collection?”

“No way. He’d probably ask to see it.”

“There
must
be a way,” Stevie insisted.

“Yeah,” Lisa agreed.

“Sure,” Carole concluded. “But what
is
it?”

S
TEVIE WAS SO
excited she could barely dial the phone. “Did Jackie Small just call you?” she blurted out when Lisa answered on the first ring.

“Boy, did she ever!” Lisa said. “And it took a whole bunch of convincing to get my mom to agree. You know how she can be, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but she
did
agree, didn’t she? I mean
that’s
the important thing.”

“Only when I promised her that I’d agree to the piano lessons she wants me to take in the fall.”

“Whew!” Stevie said. “I was really afraid she’d say no.”

“Me, too,” Lisa said. “But she didn’t and this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Me, too.”

Stevie leaned back on the pillows on her bed, relaxing for a good long phone conversation with Lisa. There was a lot to talk about.

Jackie Small wanted both of the girls to work for her in a photo session the next day. She had called to say that she had finished developing her pictures and she was sure both Stevie and Lisa would do exceptionally well. Jackie wanted them to help her with a catalog “shoot” for both English and western riding clothes and equipment. And, best of all, she was actually going to
pay
them!

“This is only the beginning, you know,” Stevie said. She twirled the phone cord around her fingers as she got caught up in the excitement.

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked.

“Well, all models start with little jobs like this, but the thing is, see, if you’ve got the kind of face and figure that photograph well …” Her words hung in the air for a few seconds.

“You mean you think this could lead to other jobs?”

“Lily Logan had to start someplace, didn’t she?”

“Who?”

“Lily Logan—she’s this famous model,” Stevie reminded her friend.

“Oh, like on the makeup commercial!” Lisa said, remembering it from television. A cool summer breeze wafted into her room. She could feel her hair being
brushed back by the puff of wind. In her imagination she was on a sailboat, in a sleek white cotton outfit, holding the mast casually with one hand while being refreshed by the light wind and the salty mist.
Smile! Click! That’s a take!

“You think Lily Logan did a catalog for riding clothes?” Lisa asked.

“When you just start out, like us, you’ll do anything,” Stevie said. “You’ve got to have something to fill your portfolio—until the offers start coming over the phone.” Stevie squeezed the telephone cord. It became the handle of a large portfolio filled with luscious pictures of herself in sports clothes, evening clothes, school clothes. Her favorite portfolio shot showed her at a school basketball game, completely surrounded by the team!

“It’s a lot of money, isn’t it?” Lisa asked, interrupting Stevie’s daydream.

“Oh, it’s
nothing
compared to what the big-time models get. But just wait …”

As she stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, Stevie’s chauffeur swept the door open in front of her, and, at the same time, unburdened her of all the packages she was carrying. He also held her toy poodle by the leash.

“And you know what else models do—a
lot
of traveling,” Stevie said.

“You mean like to Europe and Asia and Africa …”

Lisa looked out the window at the sky streaked pink by the setting sun. Nine o’clock at home meant two o’clock in the morning in Monte Carlo. She was driving back to her hotel from the casino in a red two-seater sports car. The top was down. The moonlight gleamed on the Mediterranean below, sparkling across the warm waters where only this afternoon she had been swimming with the duke.

“And we’ll learn all about makeup and fashions,” Stevie said, breaking into Lisa’s daydream.

“And we’ll be friends, no matter what happens!” Lisa vowed. “I mean even if I get more and better jobs than you do—”

“What makes you think you
will
?” Stevie asked. “Jackie told me she thought I’d be just
perfect
for this job. I’m sure I will be for lots of others, too.”

“Funny, that’s the same thing she said to me. I just didn’t know she’d said it to you, too. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“How could you hurt my feelings when we’re going to be the first two girls from Willow Creek, Virginia, to appear on the cover of
Vogue
together!”

“And we’ll have to go to
Paris
for the shoot, won’t we?” Lisa had already picked up some of the language of photography. She really liked using the word “shoot.”

So did Stevie.

“Definitely Paris for the
Vogue
shoot, but I guess it’s
plain old Willow Creek for the
Young Rider’s
catalog.”

“It’s just a start,” Lisa reminded her. “We have to begin someplace. As long as we stick together, we’ll be fine, too.”

“Uh, Lisa,” Stevie said. “About Carole …”

“Yeah, I know,” Lisa said.

“I asked Jackie.”

“So did I,” Lisa said. “And she told me you’d already asked her.”

“Yeah. I told her that she was missing out on the best rider in the school. At first, she thought I meant Veronica, but I explained about Carole.”

“I know. But she told me she could only afford two of us to work for the catalog.”

All of the fun dreams disappeared. “It doesn’t seem right,” Stevie said. “She should be in on the fun, too.”

“We can invite her along to Monte Carlo,” Lisa said.

“Monte Carlo?” asked Stevie.

“I guess I was daydreaming,” Lisa confessed. “I was imagining a moonlit beach and sparkling water and this neat red sports car …”

“And a gorgeous guy?”

“Well …” Both girls giggled.

“But what about Carole?”

“We’ve got to tell her,” Lisa said.

“Of course we do, but telling isn’t enough. After all,
she just spent an entire day mucking out stalls with a guy who collects matchbook covers, and you and I are talking about modeling in Paris. Not only do we have to tell her, but we have to make it up to her!”

“Sure, but how?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t know,” Stevie said. “But I’ll think of something.”

“I hope whatever you think of works better than your last brainstorm,” Lisa said.

“It will,” Stevie assured her. “I promise.”

“I’ve got to go,” Lisa said hastily. “My mom’s coming upstairs and I’m supposed to be doing my summer reading. See you on Saturday!”

“Okay, bye,” Stevie said. She cradled the phone and leaned back against the soft pillows. She looked up at the ceiling. The shadows cast by her lampshade looked like a map. A map of the world. Hong Kong, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Nepal, Amsterdam, Calcutta, Sydney. Images of exotic places danced before her eyes, places she had never dreamed of going before, places she had barely even heard of! Her heart beat fast with excitement.

But there was something wrong. And she knew what it was: What would they say to Carole?

“D
ID YOU BRING
the makeup?” Stevie asked Lisa eagerly when they met at the stable’s locker room on Saturday morning.

“Makeup, what’s that?” Lisa asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “It’s too early in the morning to remember
anything.
”

It was, in fact, six-thirty in the morning. Jackie had told the girls to be at Pine Hollow and ready to begin the shoot by seven. The morning sun was the best for photography, and anyway, it was going to be awfully hot by noon.

“Makeup,” Stevie repeated. “If we’re going to show ourselves off to our best advantage, we’ve got to be wearing makeup. You
promised
you’d bring it.”

“Of course I brought it,” Lisa said, hefting a large
case to the bench. “After all, you only called me about it three times.”

“Well, my mother hardly ever wears it, so I didn’t know what I might be able to borrow from her. But
your
mother—”

“My mother wouldn’t be seen in public without perfectly applied makeup,” Lisa finished for her. Lisa’s mother believed that what other people thought of her was Very Important. “I think the mailman once delivered something before she’d put on her makeup. She hasn’t been able to face him since!”

“Very funny,” Stevie said. “By the way, I tried to call Carole, but I chickened out!”

“Me, too,” Lisa admitted with a sheepish smile as Stevie snapped open Lisa’s case, which held a large variety of creams, pencils, and powders.

“What are we supposed to do with this stuff?” Stevie asked, suddenly overwhelmed.

Lisa’s eyes lit with mischief. “We are supposed to transform ourselves into international beauties!”

“Well, then, let’s not waste a minute,” Stevie said, giggling. She reached for a bottle and opened it. “What’s this for?” she asked suspiciously, sniffing at the white cream. It smelled nice enough, but it didn’t look like it was going to transform her.

“I think that’s wrinkle cream,” Lisa said.

“I don’t need any wrinkles,” Stevie told her.

“It’s to keep you from
getting
any, dummy.”

“Oh. They’d be bad for a model, wouldn’t they? I’d better put some on.” She tilted the bottle until a gooey glob of wrinkle cream filled her palm. She smeared it on her face. “It’s really oily. Do I look better?”

Lisa examined her friend’s face. “I think the long-term effect may be worth it, but for now, all that’s happened is that your face looks greasy.”

“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say.” She grabbed a tissue and tried to wipe the stuff off. It only smeared it. “I’ll go wash it off,” she announced, standing up.

While Stevie went into the bathroom to wash off the wrinkle cream, Lisa examined the possibilities in front of her. She applied some liquid makeup, but the results were streaks that made her look suspiciously like a circus clown. She wiped it off. She was carefully drawing light brown eyebrows on herself when Stevie reappeared.

“It doesn’t come off.” Stevie was trying to sound calm, but Lisa could hear the panic in her voice.