Free Braless in Wonderland by Debbie Reed Fischer Page B

call. She went into Irina and Vlada’s old room, shutting the door behind her. Wow. It was weird to think of Brynn having a mother. Her mom probably wore leather jackets and carried a switchblade.
    â€œâ€™Scuse the way I’m dressed,” Summer said. “I just came from a casting.”
    â€œFor bathing suits?” I asked.
    â€œNope, for a Ludacris video.”
    We were quiet for a few seconds, listening to the muffled sounds of Brynn talking on the phone in the next room, followed by her shouting, “Ma, what the hell’s the matter with you? You can’t eat ice cream every night. You got high cholesterol.”
    â€œMiguel says you’re from Florida,” Summer said. She pronounced Miguel Mee-gayal . “Zat right?”
    â€œYeah. I’ve never been away from home before,” I found myself telling her. I was totally mesmerized by her smile, her warmth, her everything.
    â€œMe either. I’m a Georgia girl myself. It’s hard at first, but you’ll get used to it. How old are you?”
    â€œSixteen. I’ll be seventeen next month.”
    â€œI’m eighteen.”
    â€œMa, I don’t want to hear it!” Brynn belted out from behind the door. “Shut your pie hole and get on a treadmill already, or stop complaining you’re fat.”
    â€œWell, I know how scary it is to be away from home for the first time,” Summer said. “I’ll show you the ropes.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œWhere’s your stuff? I’ll help you unpack. I got some drawer space you can use. It ain’t much, but…”
    â€œThanks,” I said again.
    She had the energy Monique was talking about. She was bubbly and sweet and cheerful and all the things I wasn’t. If we were back in Comet I’d have hated her on sight, or at the very least, lumped her in with Hillary High Beams and her crew, or been intimidated by her. I’d definitely keep my distance.
    But Summer’s smile looked real. “If there’s anything you need, any questions, jest give me a holler, ’kay? When I came here I didn’t know nothin’.”
    I wanted to hate her, but I couldn’t. She was just nice. It was that simple. Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t be having intellectual discussions with her, like on the use of double negatives, for example, but I could live with this girl. She was a relief after Brynn. At least she was kind, and kindness was always a good thing to have around.
    From the other room, I heard, “Ma, you shoulda seen that new girl just now when I told her she better watch it. She almost crapped her pants!”
    Especially when you thought you were going to need it.

chapter 8
    We were on a five-minute break, and thank God for the blanket. Underneath it, all I had on was a wet, flowered bikini and tiny cover-up shorts. It turned out the beach was freezing at seven a.m. Well, freezing by Miami-in-January standards. It was about fifty-five degrees. “Can’t have a comp card without a bathing suit shot,” Momma said when I asked why I had to pose in a bikini for my first test shoot. Not that I had anything to hide. I’d been a runner since middle school, so my butt and legs were pretty tight. But just on principle, why did my very first set of pictures have to be all about T and A?
    Momma also told me I’d love the photographer. She was right. Sean was thirtysomething, bearded, and overtanned, and I liked the quiet way he was giving me directions. He was also probably the first straight man I’d met in the three days I’d been here. The handful of men in the booking room were all gay, but it was a wide range of gay, from totally obvious to not at all obvious. Miguel registered a ten on the gay-o-meter, and gorgeous Dimitri a one or zero. Dimitri seemed so straight, the way he talked to me and how he kissed me hello, but Miguel assured me he was “gayer than Christmas.” Anyway, I knew