I didn’t know I’d become what some people dub a porn star two months after my eighteenth birthday, but I did.
Mom told me to find a job, get out there in the real world and be independent. I didn’t know how to wash my clothes, much less find a job. But the last thing I wanted was another bruised cheek for my “attitude,” as she would say. So, I went to Walgreens and bought a newspaper, sat down on the curb outside, and scanned the job listings as the sun heated my face.
Models 18+ needed, $500 a day, stopped my searching eyes. I never thought much of myself in the looks department, but Daddy always told me I was pretty. And maybe I’d feel better about myself if I told people what I did for a living.
I pulled my cell phone from my purse and dialed the local number. One, two, three, four rings, then silence.
A man’s voice said something, but I couldn’t hear.
“Hello?” I said.
“Yes, yes,” he said as though a huge smile were on his face. “Andy Cross, how can I help you?”
“I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”
“Are you calling about the modeling ad?”
Don’t kid yourself, Mandy, I thought.
“Are you interested in the modeling job? I bet you are. I can tell you’re beautiful just by the sound of your voice.”
Whoa, his words felt like Chapstick to sun-scorched lips. “Um, yes, could you tell me more about it?”
“Sure, would you like to meet for an in-person interview?”
I looked at the gravel by my feet, unsure of what to say.
“What’s your name?” he said.
“Taylor.”
“Taylor, I will make sure you get the attention you’ve always dreamed of. You want to feel good about yourself? I’ll help you. And to top it all off, you’ll make $500 just for a two-hour photo shoot.” He paused. “I’ll tell you what, you can try it out for a day, if you don’t like it you can stop—no contract until you’re ready.”
I straightened my back and looked at the shopping center across Joppa Road. “But you don’t even know what I look like.”
“You must be pretty if you dialed this number. How old are you?”
“I turned eighteen two months ago.”
“Perfect. When do you want to set up an appointment to learn more?”
Five hundred dollars for two hours sounded nice to me. Within one week I’d be in my own apartment, on my own, free from Mom’s emotional disasters.
“Taylor, I take care of all of my models. If you’re shy, I promise you’ll feel confident after one photo shoot with me.”
I cleared my throat and stood, balancing myself on the edge of the curb. “I’m just not sure if I have what?”
“You will.” Such a sugary attitude?his enthusiasm oozed like syrup through the phone. “What time can you meet with me?”
He seemed so encouraging, more than most people I knew. Most people shunned me, bruised me, ignored me for being introverted, different, too quiet?this guy cared and he didn’t even know me!
“How about tomorrow at noon?”
I hopped off the curb and walked toward my leaking Camry. “Sure. Where am I meeting you?”
He explained directions as I drew them on a receipt I found in my purse, then we hung up. Before I got in my car I looked at my phone and wondered what I’d gotten myself into. A model? Me?
Unsure but hopeful about my new future, I couldn’t help but laugh. The girl voted “Least Likely to Succeed” in middle school, go figure. And Mom, this’d really blow her away. All those times she told me I’d fail at everything. Maybe I’d finally prove her wrong.
I got into my car and looked in the rear-view mirror. Taylor Jane Adams. A model. I smiled at myself. Yeah, maybe life would go uphill for once. Twisting my keys in the ignition, I kept looking at my reflection.
I saw Daddy’s eyes in my own and couldn’t help but wonder how proud he’d be if he were still alive.
I turned the music up as loud as it could go and drove out of the parking lot singing with Steven Tyler.
Life, finally, might be worth living.
Andy Cross looked nothing like I imagined. Short hair, adventurous eyes, well-toned arms?gorgeous.
He opened the front door and greeted me with a smile as wide as his face. “Taylor, you look stunning!”
“You too. I mean, um?”
He laughed.
I smiled, sponging the attention from his charming eyes.
He ushered me inside, looked me up and down, spun me around, then stared me dead in the eyes and said, “Wow, you’re perfect.”
Not sure how to respond, I scanned the house. “I didn’t realize you worked from home.”
“How about we go sit down in the living room?”
Something drew me to Andy Cross. I followed him down a narrow hallway, through the biggest, cleanest kitchen I’ve ever seen, and into a living room with an enormous television mounted on the wall. He sat down on the coffee table and motioned to the leather couch across from him. I sat and placed my purse beside me.
He pulled his leg toward him, and rested his foot on his knee. “Are there any questions I can answer for you?”
Looking down, I searched for a question. Clueless, I peered up at him through my bangs. “Um, I’m not sure.”
“Well, how about we get started?”
My shoulders lifted. “Now…you…what?”
His laugh soothed my thumping chest. “I’ll get my camera and we’ll take a few pictures for practice, how does that sound?”
“But don’t I need a wardrobe or something?”
“You look perfect.” He stood and disappeared around the corner.
Elbows on my knees, I analyzed the carpet and shook my foot so fast I thought I’d fling my shoe across the room.
Andy walked in the room with a digital camera no bigger than my shoe. “Ready?”
“You don’t have a professional camera?”
Laughing, he held out the camera. “Oh, you’ll be surprised at the beauty this thing captures.”
I smiled.
“Ah, do that again.” He held the camera in front of him.
With my hands on the couch, I leaned forward and smiled up at him. A few flashes and you’re beautifuls later my foot stopped freaking out.
I could get used to this.
Andy sat down beside me and showed me the pictures he took. Seeing myself through his eyes made me smile. Someone thought I was pretty. Someone believed in me.
“Now,” he said, touching my shoulder. “How about we try something else?” Slow and steady, he touched my shoulder and glided my sleeve down my arm.
His gentleness reassured me. And three hours later I left his house with $500 in my purse feeling like someone finally accepted me, wanted me, and believed in me. The PG-13 pictures he took of me? Eh, I didn’t think about them. I ignored the voice in my head that kept saying, “What are you doing? What if someone you know finds out?”
But then I realized that no one cared about me anyway.
No one except Andy Cross.
