Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
My grandma shakes her head.
“No, don’t sweetie. It costs too much.”
But I’m adamant.
“Don’t you worry about that because I’ll find a way to pay for it. You’ve always taken care of me, and I want to take care of this for you.”
The old woman leans over and kisses me on my forehead. “How did I get so lucky with such a wonderful granddaughter?”
I smile.
“Everything good about me is thanks to you, Grams. It’s not luck, it was your hard work.”
She gives me a hug and I smile and kiss her wizened cheek. Then I make my way back to the kitchen, making sure to keep my back turned so she can’t see the tears pooling in my eyes. I have no idea how I’m going to do it, but I have to find a way to make enough money to get some inhaler medication. I won’t let the woman who means the most to mean end up in the hospital, or even worse yet, dead.
Sitting on my bed (which is actually the pull-out couch in the living room), I feel as if I’ve been scrolling the internet for hours trying to find some way to make a quick buck. I looked at a couple job search websites, but came away with the realization that I was completely unqualified for most positions. I can’t type, I’ve never been good at dictation, and no, I’m not the most organized person either. That’s why I became a chef! So I could express my creativity in a way that’s both profound and useful.
Giving up on the job search websites, I decide to take a look at the local classifieds instead. Most of the ads seem to be from bored housewives looking for people to join their direct sales businesses, and that is the last thing I need. I’ve heard the worst about multi-level marketing scams, and don’t want to get caught in one of those spiderwebs. I’m just about to give up when my eye catches on one last listing. The posting title is “Models Wanted,” and my cursor hovers over the “Click Here” button. I’m not exactly model-material, but hey, maybe they’re looking for plus-sized girls.
What catches my eye is the gig amount: five hundred dollars. That’s a lot! I could get a refill of Grams’ medication, and maybe even put some towards our rent next month. We might even be able to afford a treat, like flowers for the kitchen table, or a pint of the expensive deluxe ice cream they have at the grocery store. Quickly, my eyes scan the ad. Hmm, interesting. It’s pretty general without getting into hair color, body types, or even height. I thought most modeling agencies wanted tall, rail-thin girls with blonde hair, but according to this ad, their only requirements are for the models to have a positive attitude and be willing to take instruction. Both of those are qualities important in a chef, too, so I know I have that in abundance.
But do I really want to do this? Modeling? This is not what I had in mind when I went to culinary school, but it doesn’t matter. Five hundred bucks is a lot, and god knows we need the money right now.
Quickly, I fill out the application and then scramble to take a quick head shot. I head into the bathroom to make sure my hair isn’t a mess, and then throw on some mascara and pink lipstick. With my cell phone, I snap a selfie and then pull a face when I see the result. Goodness, my cheeks are so round but at least my eyes are bright. Without giving myself time to think, I email the photo and my application to the address listed, and hit send.
Then I go back to browsing other job postings. After all, I’m not expecting much, if anything, from the modeling gig. But after about ten minutes, my computer chimes and I pull up my email. Holy cow! There’s a reply to my application and it’s from a sender at City Girls. My finger shakes a little as I click to open the message, and then a gasp escapes my mouth because I’ve been asked to attend a tryout tomorrow at noon. Wow, really?
I remind myself to calm down. It’s just a tryout. It’s not like they’re going to hand me five hundred bucks the moment I step into their offices. But still, this is promising. Quickly, I grab my phone to check my schedule for Bad Burger to make sure I’m off tomorrow. Thank God, I am. Then, I click to confirm that I’ll be at the tryouts tomorrow and put away my laptop. I need to look my best because we need the money, and this modeling gig may be my only chance.
2
Angie
The big office building I’m staring at doesn’t look like anything special. It’s grey and extends into the sky, but then again, that’s most buildings in Manhattan. I’m not sure what I expected, but I suppose I thought a modeling agency called City Girls would be a bit more glamorous. Instead, it’s just another run of the mill rectangle block like every other building in Midtown. The email said I need to go to the twentieth floor. Maybe that’s where the glamour is?