“Okay, well, I should get going.” I didn’t know how long I’d been imagining that lake, but I could tell Mom had smoked, so at least some time had passed. “Birdie is with Gabe. I need to tell him about work before he finds out from the gossips and then murders me for not telling him the second I did it.”
Standing tall, Mom pushed her hair over her shoulders and cupped the sides of my neck. “Do me a favor?”
I nodded.
“Stay open. Whatever is happening, whatever comes your way? It’s good. Let yourself be receptive.” She hugged me tight and then pushed me towards the door. “Now get out of here. Ramone will be home any minute, and he’s bringing a friend.”
I gasped and spun around to face her. “What?”
She studied my expression curiously and grinned. “It’s a sex toy, little Freddie. I think we have a different conversation to have later, though.”
I basically sprinted out of her house like I was a gold medalist. I had limits, and telling my mother about my sex harem was about eight thousand miles past mine.
As I drove to Gabe’s to the sound of Big Ham’s steering screaming like an angry whale, I realized that Mom’s magic had worked. My problems were still the same, but I felt lighter. I felt possibilities instead of endings. The woman had done it again.
14
Winnie
“Areyousureyou’vegot Birdie?” I checked myself one more time and frowned. “And are you sure I look okay? This feels so weird.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes at me. “How many times have I said you look hot? Stop making me tell a woman that. It’s hurting me. The black dress is professional enough, but the flowers keep itWinnie. The one thing I wanted to change, you won’t change. And, of course, Birdie is good with me. We’re going to watch Love Island and vote for who we think is hottest.”
I narrowed my eyes back at him. “Gabe.”
“Fine! We’re going to play poker and talk shit about my neighbors.” He looked down at my boots and sighed. “Please wear some heels?”
“No way. These are my lucky boots. I was wearing these when I had Birdie. And when I got into art school. And when I first got the job at Stand.” The old Doc Martens were a little combative for a sweet art teacher, but I loved them. Plus, I wasn’t an art teacher anymore. I was officially a secretary for a photographer.
“You’re killing me. I’m not going to fight with you, though. You’ve got to go, or you’re going to get stuck in city traffic.” He paused and squinted his eyes at me. “Do you need money for gas? Big Ham is going to guzzle it.”
I pushed him out of my room and cast one last look at myself in the mirror. The black dress was lower-cut, and it hadn’t made it into the rotation I wore to school because of that. It fit my chest and upper waist snugly and flowed out around my hips. Small white and yellow flowers made it less formal and more me, but it was still a far cry from my potato sack dresses. My hair was braided in a chunky braid and hung over one shoulder, and I’d applied enough makeup to make it seem like I was trying.
I was nervous. The photographer I was working for seemed to be a big deal. His office had been so busy and overrun when I’d called to apply that I’d basically been hired on the spot after the woman talking to me learned I had a degree in art and had been a teacher for years. With a statement about teachers dealing with children and that being close to photographers and models, she told me I had the job if I emailed her my resume within the hour.
“Winnie?”
I hurried out to Gabe and found Birdie already in his arms. I hurried to her and pulled her in for a tight hug and a kiss that she made a fuss about. “Be good with Uncle Gabe, okay? Make sure Uncle Gabe is good, too.”
She giggled and wrapped her arm around Gabe’s neck. “Uncle Gabe’s going to teach me to gamble.”
I shuddered and glared at Gabe. “Don’t make me send Ma over.”
“Gam-Gam!” Birdie cheered. “Send her over!”
It was Gabe’s turn to shudder. “I’ll be good.”
With one more kiss for Birdie, I climbed into Big Ham and headed towards the city. I was lucky that Gabe had been home and able to watch Birdie so last minute. After I sent the resume into the office, the woman, Gina, had called me and told me to come in right away.
It was insane. I’d been looking for a job for almost two weeks, with the panic threatening to suffocate me more and more each day. Just when I was ready to accept a job selling knives door to door, the ad for the job at Myers Photography had been posted. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it was still in the art field, it paid well enough, and the hours would work with taking Birdie to school each morning.
It was only after accepting the job that I started thinking of models and the people who hung around them. I was envisioning a whole lot of very thin women and men who would chew me up and spit me out without even breaking a sweat. I envisioned stylish people looking at me and seeing my curves and dismissing me immediately. It wasn’t like the woman on the phone had asked for a photo, so she had no clue if I would be Myers Photography material. Didn’t fancy photographers have a standard, or something?
The entire drive into the city, I fretted. I picked at the skin around my nails and made two fingers bleed before I joined the traffic and had to keep two hands on the wheel. Big Ham wasn’t great in the city, with the narrow roads and small parking spots. It took me thirty minutes, two flipped birds from angry drivers, a knock into a light pole, and finally a nice older gentleman helping me to get the truck parked. By the time I was walking through the doors of the massive glass and steel structure that held Myers Photography on its twentieth floor, I was shaking.
I drew the attention of everyone in the open first floor when I tried to go straight to the elevators and got shouted at by security. While being chastised about not stopping, I picked at my nails again and bounced in my boots. I was out of my depth. I wanted to run back out to the truck and get away, but that would be even more embarrassing.
By the time I made it to the elevator, I’d broken out in a nervous sweat and I found by staring at my reflection in the elevator walls that my boobs were trying to escape my dress. I was going to murder Gabe. My hair was starting to frizz around my face and there was nothing I could do about any of it. The doors opened on the twentieth floor, and then I was in Myers Photography, staring at the unmanned front desk.