Married and Bright

"Maybe," I say. "Have a good holiday." I add, "And I hope that Christmas dinner is everything you hope for."

"Me too," she says.

I wave goodbye and I head upstairs avoiding the elevator, not wanting to be in close proximity to Angel because if I am, I think I'll forget how to talk, how to speak. I'll get my words all jumbled, probably spill coffee all over my shirt. I'll forget my name, let alone that I work here.

When I get up to our floor, I realize I forgot to call my mom. I send her a quick text. "Sorry, got hung up at work. I'll be home in a few days. Can't wait."

When I enter the back room, I see Angel is already here. Tori, a makeup artist I know pretty well – she did my sister Naomi’s makeup for her wedding last summer – is next to her, leading her toward a chair to get her ready for the shoot.

I watch as Angel greets everybody. Not trying to be some creepy stalker standing there, but I'm transfixed. She has long blonde hair, big brown eyes, big pouty pink lips, the face of an angel, the body of one too.

She's wearing a Santa hat, which I find fucking adorable. And everyone around her seems to have had their mood lifted the moment she arrived. She asks a model how her toddler is doing.

"Is he feeling better?"

"Aw, thanks for asking. He's actually doing a lot better today. Thank God his fever finally broke around 11:00 PM and his dad was able to take the day off so I could be here."

"Oh, that's so great," Angel says. “The shoot would not be the same without you."

"What do you got there?" Tori asks as Angel sits down in the makeup chair.

Angel holds up a box excitedly. "It's from UPS. My grandma just sent it to my apartment. I got it right as I was leaving."

"What do you think it is?" Tori asks. Angel rips open the box and pulls out a tin that's red, and her eyes widen. "Oh, I know what it is." she says. "It's my Grandma Sue's gingerbread." She pulls open the lid and shows off the freshly baked gingerbread.

The spicy scent fills the room, and everyone looks at it greedily. But the room is also full of stick-thin models who probably haven't had much to eat all day.

I see them bite their lips and hesitate. Half a dozen models who are being tempted by homemade treats is a dangerous situation. I'm curious what Angel is going to do, especially since I remember Allister, the director's conversation with her last week.

But she smiles. "Does anybody want some? My grandma makes the most amazing treats at Christmas. I can't believe she thought of sending them to me, especially after everything she's been through this year."

She looks at Tori. "My grandma has been really sick with pneumonia but she's been on the mend the last two weeks. And this just means she must be really feeling better, if she was well enough to make this and have someone help getting to UPS and sending this to me." I see tears in Angel's eyes. "That's just so thoughtful. Come on, you guys. You have to try some."

The models all make excuses. "I'd love to, Angel, but we have to go out there and put on this lingerie in a moment, there's no way.”

Angel, though, doesn't hesitate. She takes one bite off the gingerbread, groaning as she does. "It's so good. Seriously. No one's going to have any?"

I can't hold back. I step toward her and I take a slice. "Thanks," I say. "It looks delicious." And it is. I take a bite, and then another. And she's right, her grandma does know how to bake. "This is incredible," I say.

She smiles. "I know, right? I love it so much."

She takes another slice and begins to eat as Allister enters the dressing room.

"What are you doing?" he barks.

"Oh, do you want some?" she asks with a smile. "My grandma just sent it."

"I don't want any of that. You cannot have processed foods or sugar. You know better, Angel. We talked about this last week. You've already been putting on weight."

Angel looks bruised. "Weight? What, like three pounds? I'm sorry, but..."

"No buts," Allister says. "I need you looking perfect for these pictures and this won't do." He takes the tin from her and shoves it on a table. "Go throw up if you have to, I don't want you looking like trash on my set." He walks away and the room goes silent.

The models who were warm and welcoming just a few minutes ago follow Allister, and I understand that their jobs at Christmas mean a lot to them. Standing up to Angel is something they can't afford to do.