Free A Not So Model Home by David James Page A

every other week. When I presented myself to Jacob and looked at myself in the mirror, I could see what was wrong with it right away. My nipples were plainly visible.
    â€œJacob?” I suggested. “You might want to tape over my nipples . . . they’re showing. We don’t want that on national television, do we?”
    I received a withering look that would have killed a cactus.
    â€œWhy do you think Jeremy picked out the dress? He wants viewers to see your nipples.”
    Clearly, I wasn’t getting through to Jacob. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
    â€œTrust me, sweetie, we’ll make it look tasteful. We’re not gonna make you look like a street walker.”
    As soon as Jacob had uttered those words, they lodged in my head like buckshot from Dick Cheney’s gun. I was going to look like a slut on national television.
    â€œIt looks great. Now don’t worry, Miranda.”
    â€œAmanda.”
    â€œYeah, whatever. Look, you’re in my hands; my job is to make you look great for the show. C’mon. This is a gay show, not The Real Housewives of Orange County . Now there’s a truckload of skanky pole dancers for you. Trust me . . . pleeeeaaassseee?”
    â€œOkay, Jacob. I’m going to trust you.”
    â€œGreat, you’re going to look fabulous! Let’s see the hair stylist now.”
    â€œStylist? I think my hair looks great now.”
    This time, a look of do-you-really-think-that-you-poor-thing?
    â€œJacob, I have a hair stylist here in town. Roberto. Yes, he’s a little dramatic, but he does a good job and he’s good with color. I mean, yes, he does like driving down to Oceanside to pick up Marines occasionally, but . . .”
    Jacob stopped leading me toward the hair and makeup styling tent, turned around, then put his hand over my mouth.
    â€œAre you through?”
    â€œYes, I guess so. I’m just a little nervous.”
    â€œThat’s normal. Being on television for the first time.”
    â€œNo, not that. I do have a guy who styles my hair here in town. If I get it styled for the show, Roberto is going to know next time I see him.”
    â€œHe’ll get over it.”
    â€œHe’s a dramatic Brazilian queen. You don’t want to piss off a hairdresser, especially him, any more than you want to aggravate a plastic surgeon as you go under the knife or an airplane pilot before takeoff. They can make life really ugly for you if they want.”
    â€œAmanda, darling, who is this whole show about?”
    â€œIan Forbes.”
    â€œThat’s right. The man who made millions cutting hair correctly. Do you think Jeremy is going to let just anyone cut hair on this show? He knows Ian is going to be watching everything. So relax and trust me. You’re going to have Sebastian from Ian’s own salon in Beverly Hills do your hair. He’s refused to style some of the biggest names in Hollywood, he’s that good. ”
    â€œShit. Sorry. I guess I am lucky.”
    â€œYou don’t know how lucky you are. You are going to look so great, your life is never going to be the same again.”
    Little did I know how right he was going to be.
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    I got my hair styled and I had to agree, in the hands of a talented stylist, a lump of clay could be made into a masterpiece. In fact, it was a revelation that made me deliriously happy, then angry for all the years and thousands of dollars I’d spent thinking I couldn’t improve my appearance any more than what the gods gave me. My problem is that I was hiring amateurs. I looked in the mirror as Sebastian finished up on me and I looked at my reflection—it struck me that I wasn’t a bad-looking woman. Or, at least now I wasn’t. The reality was that there was always great potential there. It just took someone like Sebastian to give me enough style to make me shine.
    â€œThere,” Sebastian said, giving me a hand mirror so