Free Braless in Wonderland by Debbie Reed Fischer

asked.
    Momma’s jowls spread into a smile. “As a matter of fact, Miss Allee, you’d be great for it.”
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    Nobody was home in the apartment. It was neater than the last time I’d seen it. It actually looked cute. Before, I hadn’t noticed the pretty aqua-colored carpeting that matched the futon, or the paintings of Mediterranean islands everywhere.
    Miguel came over to deliver some cleaning supplies and stayed for a while. He went through my suitcase with me and pulled out a few things he thought would be good for castings. There wasn’t much he liked. “Your biggest problem,” he said,
    â€œis color.” He held up a gray tank and wrinkled his nose. “If a fart could be seen, it would be this color. Blech. ” Then he flung it across the room, adding, “It doesn’t do you justice. Your hair, your skin, your whole you is too fabulous for gray. You need jewel tones, Allee girl. I’m talking ruby, emerald, topaz.”
    After hanging out and making himself a cup of coffee, he’d had to leave for some dinner meeting with Dimitri, so now I was alone. Okay, back to my notes. I wrote down everything Momma had said: Keep nails short and clean. No brightly colored nail polish. Don’t get too tan. Little color okay, no tan lines. Go easy on jewelry and makeup for print go-sees. Want to look like blank canvas, healthy, fresh. Image is light, fun. Think happy virgin.
    Must wax eyebrows and do Brazilian down below!!!!!! Take two Aleve fifteen minutes before appointment. Be careful when smiling not to show too much gum. Practice smiling with tongue pressed behind teeth to hide any black space. Hair is fab, don’t change a thing, want to run naked through it. (????) Buy slinky dresses, body-hugging clothes—try Urban Outfitters, Sixth and Collins. Wear bright colors, def show midriff. Don’t wear black tops for TV castings, will look like floating head on tape.
    This beanbag wasn’t that comfortable. Or maybe it was just me who wasn’t comfortable. If only the knot in my stomach would go away. I was waiting for something to happen, but I didn’t know what. Forget about that rich-and-independent sensation I’d had earlier. I was the new kid on the first day of school and I was feeling lost. I kept thinking about my sister. She was probably dying to know what had happened to me on my first day in the modeling biz, but she was so stubborn, no way would she pick up the phone first.
    I started to dial home, but hung up quickly when I heard a key turning in the lock.
    It was Brynn. Her face was professionally made up, smoky eyes, red lipstick. She was wearing that NEW JERSEY CHARM SCHOOL sweatshirt again, with black leather pants and pointy boots. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my competition. What’s your name again?”
    â€œAllee.”
    She stretched out on the futon, put her feet on the coffee table and her hands behind her head. My beanbag was next to the futon. She looked down at me on the beanbag and I looked up at her on the futon.
    Seconds ticked by. This was stupid. Someone had to say something. I tried to start a little conversation going with, “I like your makeup.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Why did I compliment her? Why, why, why? “Where are you from?” I asked. She smirked and pointed to her sweatshirt. “New Jersey? Oh.” Long, awkward silence. “I’m from Cape Comet. It’s here. In Florida.”
    â€œNever heard of it.” She lit up a cigarette, blew smoke in my direction. Thanks for asking if I minded. Which I did.
    â€œUm, I didn’t unpack yet. Do you know where I can put my stuff?”
    â€œWell, let’s see. We all share the closets, but they’re pretty full right now. The top three drawers of the dresser are mine. Bottom three are Summer’s. Claudette uses the kitchen. Vodka and Tonic had stacked milk crates, but they took them when they left. Wish I