“That would make it less creepy,” he said. “And then what would you make fun of me for?”
“God, literally everything else,” I said. “What do you want? I’m trying to finish this pathetic lunch so I can take selfies before that giant rainbow over the freeway goes away. Apparently, rainbow selfies are a new trend.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” he muttered. “Anyways, I caught too much fish that I couldn’t sell, so I’m having a fish fry tonight. I know how you models can’t afford to eat, so I thought I’d invite you.”
My stomach growled as I took the last bite of my tuna sandwich. I could always go for more tuna.
“I’ll be there,” I said. “But Nancie has another shoot.”
“I’ll make some to-go boxes then. Seen you soon,” he said and hung up. I was grateful that I wouldn’t have to worry about dinner, but would never let Ron know that.
Ron seemed to be the only family member who actually supported my life choices. His own mom had pursued her dream of becoming a published author, and his dad started the fishing business that Ron took over when he passed from cancer. He believed in following your dreams and even tried explaining the concept to my mom and dad. Ron tried explaining to me that in their own way, they had followed their dreams as well. It just so happened their dreams led to a life of crippling debt, settling, and rising bills.
Nancie arrived home moments later with giant shopping bags swinging from her elbows that were stuffed with brand
new clothing. Her most recent gig had paid well. I tried remembering the last gig that paid me more than $500, but it was a useless thought. These days I got paid just a couple of hundred dollars along with useless items as compensation.
She pulled out shirt after shirt, gushing over the material and softness of each item. She got a few pieces for me as well, and I thanked her profusely. Nancie was always trying to get me more into high-end fashion than the department store clothes in my wardrobe.
“I saw the prints today!” she gushed and sat across from me. She took a single bite from what was left of my half pickle, scrunched her nose, and threw it in the trash. “You realize that pickle was probably like a month old, right?”
“It didn’t have mold on it,” I argued. “Anyways, how were the prints?”
“Beautiful!” She showed me a few pictures on her phone. “I couldn’t snap too many photos, but this is the gist of it.”
I brought her phone close to my face and stared at the fancy clothes on Nancie’s back. The photographer had used the perfect angles and lighting, making Nancie an angel bathed in a soft light as she posed on a bed of down feathers and rich, leather blankets.
“You look amazing,” I said, trying to keep the jealousy from my voice.
“You could have looked even better,” she said. “They used two stand-ins, and neither of them had your height or your complexion. You would have booked future gigs for sure.”
I groaned, regretting going to dinner with my parents. “Don’t tell me that.”
“Okay then.” She put her phone away and took out a pamphlet. “How about I tell you this instead?”
I glanced at the words on the pamphlet, the name of a famous clothing designer in bold letters on top of a production company’s symbol.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The biggest job offer I’ve ever gotten,” she could barely keep her voice from squealing. “I’m moving to California!”
“What?” I snatched the pamphlet and read it twice over. “No way, how did this happen?”
“One of the guys watching the photo shoot loved me, said there’s an open spot for a four-season modeling contract.” She grabbed my hand. “This means I’ll have regular photoshoots once a month, and it pays more than every gig I’ve gotten in the past five years!”
“That’s amazing!” I said honestly. “Nancie, I’m so happy for you!”
“I haven’t accepted yet,” she said and fidgeted in her seat. “It’s a huge decision, and they’re giving me a month to decide.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” I asked.
“I have no idea, but I’d be dumb to refuse this, right?” she asked me.
“Take your time,” I said. “But yeah, you pretty much have to accept. This is what you’ve been dreaming about your entire life.”
“And of course I’ll get contacts in Hollywood and send them your portfolio, so you can book a gig and move to California to be my roommate,” she said and moved her shopping bags into her room.
I enjoyed her vision, but there was something wrong with it. Nancie’s dreams were coming true. It seemed like I still had a lot of work before I’d get anywhere with mine. I was beyond happy that Nancie’s career was taking off; she deserved it, she really did. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat envious of her, especially when I was struggling to get followers. I checked my social media accounts one last time before calling it a day. Twenty-one more followers.