Under the Stars and Stripes (Under Him)

“Actually, I saw the ad on the bus bench outside Jerry’s Diner downtown.”

Both Tony and I perk our heads up.

“No shit?” Tony asks.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Justin says.

“And you said no one would ever make an appointment with us from those ads and that they were a waste of money!” Tony says excitedly to Justin, while pointing at him with a lot of aggression that anyone walking in might misconstrue for sexual tension.

“Well, that’s because most people who read advertisements on bus bunches can’t afford cell phones,” Justin says. “She’s probably homeless.”

Then he looks directly at Brittany.

“Do you have a home?”

“I-I-I mean…” she stammers.

“Yeah,” Justin interrupts her. “She’s homeless.”

Then once again, he meanders away like a slow, yet very loud parade float. A gay pride float, obviously.

“He’s wrong, by the way,” Brittany says to Tony and me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear someone other than myself say those words to me,” Tony says.

“What exactly do you think he’s wrong about?” I ask her.

“Well, it’s just that… I don’t know… I saw that ad on the bench from across the street after a really bad few days, so it definitely wasn’t a waste of money. And the girl on it just reminded me so much of myself. I got this sort of warm feeling in me, because I guess I never imagined that plus-size modeling agencies were a real thing.”

“You’re absolutely perfect for it,” I tell her, although my lips don’t seem to move much as I’m saying it, and it all sort of comes out in a slur, as though I’m having a stroke.

“Your body is—”

But I stop myself.

“It’s perfect.”

“Thank you,” she says, as a blush covers her perfect cheeks until their apples really do begin to look like apples.

Not just any apples though. These are the kind that are so tempting and compelling that there’d be no need for the Serpent from the Garden of Eden to have to talk me into putting them to my lips.

I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, and the devil himself might not either.

We’d each take one side and just…

Okay, that’s just a crazy thought.

And it’s time to do the photoshoot.

But I soon find that I have a difficult time taking pictures of her, and it’s not because she’s not good at the modeling aspect. In fact, it’s not her at all. She looks so natural and collected and photogenic through the lens.

But she has such an effect on me every time my eye is perfectly fixated on her that my hands end up trembling from nerves and excitement and desire.

I won’t know how the photos come out until I develop them, as I don’t use a digital camera. But I’m hoping there’s at least one good one in the bunch.

“What do you think?” Tony asks me, as I take a couple last shots of her even though I’ve told her to look around and get to know the place while we discuss.

“I think she’s perfect,” I tell him.

“I think you’re hard as fuck,” Tony says, glancing down at my crotch where my package is obviously poking out a bit too obviously.

“Quit!” I tell him. “I’m gonna drop my camera.”

“You sly dog,” he says. “You wanna be that little baby’s daddy.”

“Stop,” I say again. “She’s going to hear you and run for the hills; and she’s the only real contender we’ve seen all day. I can’t sit through another eight schlubs.”

“Let’s offer her a little extra up front. I’ll pay for it out of pocket as an early birthday present to you,” Tony says. “And then we’ll put her on a six-month contract. I mean… fuck, dude. She’s hotter than most of the models we’ve been working with for years. And she’s way more photogenic.”

“I know,” I say, catching sight of Brittany pulling back one of the long stage curtains hanging from the ceiling that we have on rollers in the rafters to use as backdrops for certain shoots.

As she takes a peek, I snap a picture.

I can’t help it.

It’s just that as she does it, she looks like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, pulling back the emerald curtain in the presence of the Great and Terrible Oz only to find that he’s no Wizard at all… just a cowardly little man behind a curtain.

“Britt!” Tony calls to her, and like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she drops the curtain back. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to sign a six-month contract if this is something you really want to do. We’re going to pay you $500 up front, which will be a retainer for the rest of the month of April.

“And then after that we’ll start paying you a flat rate by the shoot, which will be determined by how many hours you’re needed, what you’ll be doing, and how seen it will be by the world. Does that work for you?”