Free Poseur #4: All That Glitters Is Not Gucci by Rachel Maude

was confused, so she smiled dumbly, revealing her overlapping eyetooth.
    “How would you feel about teaching Melissa to play the piano? Ever since you came over and played for us, the girl will not
     stop begging me for lessons, so I thought, hey! Who better to teach her the ropes than the woman who inspired her, right?”
     His perfect teeth were white as snow.
    “Melissa?” Miss Paletsky asked. “She is interested in classical music?”
    “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” Seedy chuckled. “Ibarely believed it myself! But what can I say, Lena? You’ve converted us.”
    “Thank you,” Miss Paletsky replied, once she remembered how to speak. God, it was hot in here. Must be the blazer….
    “So, there’s only one catch,” Seedy began, preparing to floss his acting chops. (He hadn’t used them since he was impaled
     on a meat hook in the straight-to-DVD film
Soju Slayer
back in 2004, but he knew he still had it.) “I really want to get Melissa a teacher who can live on the premises. The paparazzi
     been swarming my crib ever since Vee and I broke up, so the fewer people I’ve got coming in and out, the easier my life becomes.”
    “Ah, yes, I understand,” lied Miss Paletsky.
    “So I was thinking,” Seedy continued, contorting his face into an overwrought “thinking” expression, “that Melissa’s piano
     teacher could live in our second guesthouse. That
you
could live in our second guesthouse. You know… if it wasn’t too inconvenient.”
    “This is a very appealing proposition, Mr. Moon.”
    “Seedy,” he corrected.
    “Seedy”—she blushed—“and I would love to help nurture Melissa’s newfound affection for classical music. However, I cannot.
     You see, in two months my work visa, she expires, and I return to Russia.”
    “Well, can’t you teach Melissa until then?”
    Miss Paletsky scratched her shellacked head in contemplation.
But, no!
What was she thinking? She could not move into the Moon home!
    “I don’t think Melissa should have a teacher who will abandon her so soon,” explained Miss Paletsky.
    “Well, then,” Seedy shrugged, preparing to bluff, “looks like she won’t have a teacher at all.”
    “Why is this? I can give you the name of so many teachers. I will find Melissa a—”
    “It’s no use, Lena!” Seedy bellowed suddenly, with a quick chop of his bejeweled left hand. (Miss Paletsky couldn’t help but
     notice the appealing bareness of his ring finger.) “Melissa says she will only take lessons from you. It’s really too bad.
     I always wanted to have another musician in the family.” He shook his glossy bald head at the apparent injustice. “Guess some
     things just aren’t meant to be….”
    Seedy Moon’s sad face was unbearable. The way his perky posture dissolved into a tragic hunch, the way he cast his kind black
     eyes down toward the blue classroom carpet. And oh, my goodness! Was he actually pouting? Yes, Seedy Moon’s bottom lip was
     pressed forward with the exaggerated appearance of a sulking child who has been denied a slice of chocolate babka. It was
     too much to bear.
    “I will do it, Mr. Moon.” Miss Paletsky nodded quietly. “Please do not be so sad anymore. I will do it.”
    Seedy’s pronounced pout quickly snapped back into thatluminous grin.
Phew
, thought Miss Paletsky.
    She met his shining eyes with her own, only briefly, and then glanced at her desk. Finally, Seedy broke the silence.
    “Melissa is going to be so happy,” he said.

The Guy: Evan Beverwil
    The Getup: Brown and beige board shorts from ZJ Boarding House, white Stüssy t-shirt, green Havaianas flip-flops, white Turk’s
     head bracelet
    “I can’t do Baja Fresh again, dude,” Joaquin Whitman announced. “Like, can. Not. Do. Baja. Fresh.”
    It was lunchtime, and as always, Joaquin and his glassy-eyed comrades were taking longer than anybody else to leave the Showroom,
     having stopped for an impromptu game of hacky sack outside Joaquin’s purple and