LITMIR.BIZ

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please,” cried Elisa. Apparently, she understood what was going on. “Ali just came here for lunch.”

      “Well, what has that to do with anything? Look,” she said, turning her laser eyes on Ali. “That man out there has a lot of money. He’s been looking all over the city for some woman to play his Queen Guinevere in a summer promotional sweep. And now he wants you.” She grabbed the pen and pushed it into Ali’s hand. “So sign. Then you and I can make a lot of money.”

      Ali gaped at her. “Guinevere? Me?”

      Marilyn rolled her eyes. “Yes, you!”

      “But why?”

      “Because he’s a crazy man! You’re not tall enough, you’re not trained in any way and you could stand to lose a few pounds.”

      “Hey!” That was Elisa, not Ali. Sadly, Ali knew everything the woman said was absolutely correct.

      “But I don’t understand why,” said Ali, her gaze going to Elisa. Sadly, Mad Marilyn wasn’t allowing anyone to talk but herself.

      “It doesn’t matter why, Miss Flowers. It matters that you say yes!” This time she forcibly wrapped Ali’s fingers around the pen.

      “But I don’t know anything about modeling—”

      “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

      “—and I already have a job!” That last protest was pure reflex. After all, hadn’t she just decided she needed to remake her life? But modeling had never entered her mind as a possibility.

      Meanwhile, Marilyn huffed as she sat back in her chair. “Shall I be blunt?” she asked.

      As if she was ever anything else! “I’m not a model,” Ali said.

      “No, my dear, you’re a secretary in a hospital PR department.”

      Ali blinked. How did Marilyn know that? “I manage events, coordinate publicity and logistics. It’s an important job!” She said the words, but inside, she knew it really was a lame job. Sure, what she did was valuable, but all it took was an organized mind. She had that in spades. She was valued (at least she hoped she was) but from anyone else’s perspective, she was just another cog in a very big machine.

      “And now you have a chance to be something better. Something special! A Marilyn Madison Model!”

      Ali didn’t know how to answer. The idea of her as a model was just too far to go, and yet she was starting to think about it. Could she really be pretty enough to be a model? She wasn’t ugly, but she’d never thought of herself as beautiful.

      “Think of it!” Mad Marilyn pressed. “Your picture in the paper, screaming fans, cameras, a life under the lights! It’s what every girl wants, and it’s being handed to you on a silver platter!”

      Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say. As Marilyn started speaking, the reality of what a model had to do started hitting. She’d be put on display. All those cameras! What if she said the wrong thing? What if she did the wrong thing? She would be promoting Blind Ken’s product—whatever it was—but if she screwed up then that would reflect badly on him.

      “No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t do that.”

      Marilyn released her breath on a huff of disgust. Then she shook her head. “Listen to me, Miss Flores. I know this is fast, I know this is a big change. But sometimes opportunity happens like that. It’s there and then it’s gone like that.” She snapped her fingers with a loud crack. “So take it now while it’s being offered. Otherwise it’s gone.” Again, she snapped her fingers and the sound seemed to echo in Ali’s head. “Think hard. And think fast.”

      Then she pushed out of her chair and shot a glare at Elisa. “You’re her friend! Explain the situation. Explain how great an opportunity this is.” She straightened her very tight fitted jacket. “I’ll go negotiate your fee.” Then she was gone.

      Ali waited a long time after Marilyn was gone before looking at Elisa. They were best friends, had been since college when they’d been assigned each other as roommates. They couldn’t be more opposite. Where Ali was studious and shy, an introvert with a love of reading, Elisa was vivacious, spontaneous and had a burning desire to be a runway model. After she’d failed a dozen auditions, Elisa decided to use her brain and body a little differently. She interned at Marilyn’s agency and was so good at it that Marilyn hired her as soon as the internship was over.

      Elisa couldn’t be a top model, but she could help other girls attain the dream. And now, apparently, her job was to see that Ali became exactly what Elisa had dreamed of. But Ali just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be a model. She didn’t know anything about it!

      “Don’t shake your head, sweetie,” Elisa said as she pulled up a chair. “Let me guess. You’re thinking that you can’t be a model, not because you aren’t pretty enough—”

      “I’m not!”

      “The client says you are.”

      Ali didn’t have an answer to that, so she buttoned her lip.

      “You’re thinking that you can’t stand having people look at you. That you’d be the center of attention and that you’d mess it up somehow.”

      Ali sighed. “It’s not fair of Marilyn to make you talk me into this.”

      Elisa shrugged. “Don’t think about me right now. Let’s talk about you.”

      “I can’t be a model!”

      “You keep saying that, but what really is stopping you?”

      “I have a job.”

      “And didn’t you just text me that you wanted a new one?” Elisa pulled out her phone and paged through to the right text message. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “What you actually said was: ‘We’re going to find me a new life.’”

      Ali sighed. Sure she’d said that, and she’d even meant it. “But I can’t just change my entire life over lunch.”

      Elisa shrugged. “Like Marilyn said, sometimes things happen that fast.”

      “Don’t you dare snap your fingers!” Ali groused. Of course Elisa didn’t have to. Ali still had the sound of Marilyn’s snap echoing in her brain. But even as her heart was starting to think of the possibility, her brain was busy coming up with reasons she couldn’t possibly do this.

      “I’d be a lousy model.” She’d spent her life on logistics and organization. It had been a necessary survival skill while managing her three younger siblings. “My skills are great backstage.”

      Again, Elisa just shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to learn some new skills.”

      Sure it was. But modeling? “I haven’t a clue what to do.”

      “Well, that’s easy enough. We’ll teach you. And besides, you’re not going on a runway. You’re just dressing up and talking to people. You do that every day.”

      “I talk to people at health fairs. About finding the right doctor and managing their blood pressure.”

      “And now you’ll talk to kids about a game. Really, Ali, you’re incredibly smart. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

      Ali tried to picture it. She imagined herself as one of those product girls she saw at health fairs, the ones attached to some drug company. They looked good, but dressed on the edge of too slutty, in her opinion. They were there to draw people to the booth so that they could try a sample of an over-the-counter medication. Or a new arch support. Or something. They were product girls, and…and well, what they did wasn’t that hard.

      “That can’t pay enough compared to what I’m making now.”

      “Are you sure? That’s what Marilyn’s out there negotiating right now. And from

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