Shy Town Girls (14 page)

“
Don’t be ridiculous,” she said,
waving off the coat with a flick of her wrist. “I told you, it’s
yours! Tea?” I nodded my head happily, hoping all along she would
be up and open to talk.

“
Tell me be about your night. What a
beautiful dress you’re wearing!”

“
Thank you, it
was--interesting.”

“
How so?”

“
Charlie showed with another girl, a
model. It sucked at first, but then I stopped caring. It was almost
a relief to see him with someone else. It made everything between
us really over. I just feel bad for her, or the next girl who has
to deal with his insecurities and shallowness. But who knows, maybe
she’s just like him. Maybe they’re perfect for each other, and
they’ll live happily ever after.”

“
People are vain, Bobbie, baby.” She
motioned me to follow her into the kitchen, where she put the
kettle on. “Vain in the sense that we’re always trying to find the
pieces in life that fit us. We’re sifting and sifting, attempting
to define ourselves. Thomas Merton once said, ‘The beginning of
love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the
resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving
them we do not love what they are, but only their potential
likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the
reflection of ourselves we find in them.’ The mind has an amazing
ability to twist everything that exists into exactly what we want
to see . This is why you need to surround yourself with people who
see clearly and defend that clarity with all your
heart.”

“
I feel lucky in that regard,” I
said. “I have great friends I’ve had for years, like Meryl, and. .
.” I thought of Oliver, and a strange, warm, tingling feeling
filled me from head to toe, as I remembered how handsome he looked
tonight. How good he smelled. And how charmed I’d been when he’d
tucked his warm coat around me. “And now I have my crazy roommates,
and I have you!”

When the kettle began to sing, Barbara filled two
cups and dropped tea bags into both. “Bobbie,” she said, “Do you
remember when we talked about the three kinds of love?”

“
Eros, Philia, and Agape, right?” I
said. “Yes. But we only got as far as Eros!”

“
Well, Philia is love in the form of
friendship. It’s the friendship you form with yourself and others.
Even in romantic relationships, when the flame of Eros is no long
able to shine, it is Philia that keeps couples together, because at
the end of the day, you still have to like yourself and your mate.
Friendship, above all things, my love, lasts an eternity...beyond
this life. It is Philia that suffuses, that fills every space in
us, and turns all aggression to dust. Martin Luther King said
that,” she added.

I felt a lump in my throat; she looked deep into me,
making me feel more vulnerable than ever. My eyes began to
well.

“
Thank you, Barbara. I think you are
an angel.”

“
My husband used to say that. It’s
funny. . . you remind me of him sometimes. You have the same kind
eyes,” she smiled. “And he was very shy, too, when he was a young
man. Bobbie, you know that time goes by so quickly. Squeeze the
life out of every moment, and when love finds you, never let
go.”

When I got back to my apartment, my phone buzzed with
a text from Oliver.

I’m here if you need me.

Philia? Is that what Oliver and I have? I wondered.
Friendship was certainly the foundation of our relationship. Yes,
we definitely had some Philia going on. But if I was completely
honest with myself, I had to admit that lately, where Oliver was
concerned, Eros was coming into play as well. And I found that a
bit. . . alarming. Oliver, sexy? I hadn’t thought of him in that
way since—well, never! So why now?

And what should I do about it?

Nothing. Nothing. Everyone knows the quickest way to
kill a great friendship is to. . . to turn it into something more.
Right? And what I had with Olly was just too important to risk--I
couldn’t, wouldn’t jeopardize our friendship.

That night I tossed and turned. I got up out of bed
to get a glass of orange juice and came back to my room and sipped
it in the dark. I’m going to start studying for the LSAT. I’m going
to apply to law school. I’m going to quit Fordham. I’m going to ask
Oliver what’s going on in his head when he looks at me with that
mysterious expression in those deep green eyes of his. . .

In the middle of the night, things were so clear. But
I knew by morning I’d change my mind again. I’d stay in my
shell.

Chapter 15

It was the morning of Fordham Agency’s biggest
day--the Centennial. You could think of the Centennial as the Super
Bowl of the modeling industry. It was exclusive parties all day
long, photo shoots at the hottest locations in the city, and in the
evening, a runway show with all the top designers and top models,
followed by a very exclusive after-party. Every inch of the agency
had been glitzed and glitterized; constant rehearsals on runways
had been perfected; designer clothing filled the racks. All the
studio spaces had been staged for exclusive photo shoots, and
everyone affiliated with the Fordham agency had been called to
action.

It was 7:30 a.m., and I awoke in a panic. What
happened to my alarm clock? Late! And I had been doing so much
better with that. . .

I threw on my fishnets, black dress, fur coat, and
Jeffrey Campbells, not bothering with my hair, which was tied up in
the messy knot I’d slept in. It actually looked pretty chic. I ran
out the door and down the street to the nearest coffee shop, iPad
in one hand and purse in the other. Businessmen stood against the
walls reading the Financial Times and Wall Street Journal, waiting
for double foam, double shot skim lattes.

“
Double espresso please,” I said,
reaching into my purse to find my wallet and cell phone. I needed
to arrange drivers for my foreign models who were currently staying
at the Drake Hotel and the Hilton. After that I had to check all
international flights coming into O’Hare. It was officially one of
the biggest days of my career as an agent, and I felt numb, running
on an hour of sleep. I look like a zombie, I thought, as I caught a
glimpse of myself in the glass pastry case.

Wallet, check. Phone? I searched and searched,
digging through my bag. Shit! It’s on the nightstand.

I downed the espresso on the sprint back home, and by
the time got there, I was sweating in my fur, despite the fact that
the weather was cold and stormy. I felt the caffeine kick in; my
hands almost trembled as I opened the front door.

Ella was doing yoga on the living room floor; Ivy was
on the couch eating Fruit Loops and watching the news.“Delayed
flights: Delta, United, American Air, Lufthunsa, Air Italia...”

“
Forgot my phone,” I breathlessly,
as if they cared.

In my room, my phone was buzzing and lighting up: New
Text Message from LILLY THE INTERN: Trouble in paradise. Get to the
office ASAP.

This cheery communication was followed by six missed
calls from Wolfe’s secretary and two each from three models. Was
there a death? I wondered. Before calling Wolfe back, I tried to
prepare myself for the urgency. I called Lilly. “What’s going on?”
I asked.

“
Do you not read the news? Hurricane
Sandy?”

“
Yeah, what about it?”

“
All flights at US airports are
totally screwed up. Which means half our models won’t be here for
the Centennial shoot.”

Half our models? Half our models?

“
Shit! I’ll be there in ten
minutes.”

I hung up and sprinted out to the living room,
heading for the door. I had my hand on the handle when I was struck
with a bolt of lightning—a brilliant idea.Stopping mid-step, I
pivoted. I looked at Ivy and then at Ella.

At the serious expression on my face, Ivy’s eyes grew
round and huge, as she ate her Fruit Loops.

“
What?” Ella cried.

“
Girls,” I said. “How would you like
to do me a huge favor?”

Ella shrugged. “Be glad to, if I can.”

Ivy swallowed her cereal. “What?” she asked.

“
Have you ever fantasized about
being a model?”

“
Of course,” said Ella. “We’re
girls, aren’t we? Once, with the Joffrey, we did this modern dance
piece that was like a riff on the whole fashion
industry—”

“
Perfect,” I said. “You’re
experienced. Ivy, you’re a natural. Half our models have been
grounded by Hurricane Sandy, and if you can step in and help me
out, you’d be lifesavers.”

Ivy opened her mouth full of rainbow Fruit Loops. “Oh
my God! You’re serious.”

“
Oh, no. . .” Ella shook her head.
“No. I’m not. . . I’m not tall enough. Not nearly.”

Well, I may be shy, but when it came to recruiting
talent, I was no pushover. I refused to take no for an answer.
“Reschedule with work. Call in sick. Do whatever you have to do,” I
commanded, taking charge of the situation. “Get yourselves ready on
the double and be ready when I call you.”

I ran into the street to hail a cab, nearly getting
hit by a biker, a car, and the yellow cab I finally hailed.
“Fordham Agency,” I cried. “Go! Go! Go!”

On the street, leaves were swirling and huge
raindrops spattered the windshield of the cab. Some of the leaves
were beginning to stick to the ground, forming a slick rug. Clouds
covered the sky as a peal of thunder ripped through the air. There
was a lot of traffic, and we crawled slowly along as the rain got
heavier. Cabs jammed the street in front of us, and umbrellas in
every color of the rainbow made appearances up and down the
sidewalk. I should have just walked, I thought.

When I arrived, I burst through the glass doors at
the agency. It smelled like hairspray. I could already hear Wolfe
yelling, as desperate secretaries scurried around. Phones were
ringing, and someone was already crying. Jesus.

Lilly popped out of my office. “Oh thank God you’re
here! Prepare yourself for this. . .” She grabbed my arm, dragging
me to Wolfe’s office. As the door swung open, there he was,
standing in the middle of the room, throwing a temper tantrum. His
platinum-perfect hair was a mess. He was pacing back and forth,
yelling into the phone. Looking up at me as I came through the
door, Wolfe hung up the phone and threw it across the room. It
reminded me of when I threw Charlie’s phone at his face. Not
attractive.

“
Bobbie, we’re short six of your
international models,” he said.

“
I know.”

“
Not to mention we are missing a
photographer, a videographer, and two makeup artists.”

“
I was thinking I could—”

“
Whatever it is, you have three
hours to pull it off. In the meantime, I don’t want to see you.
Go!” he said, flipping his hand, shooing me away like a
fly.

“
I’m on it,” I said.

“
Then what are you still doing
here?” he asked coldly, turning away.

Lilly was waiting for me outside. “Oh my God,” she
said. “He’s terrifying!”

“
Calm down and follow me. I need
you,” I told her. Back in my office, I called Ivy and Ella, then I
opened every file cabinet in the room and threw Lilly an iPad. “I
need you to go through all of the models in documents A, B, and C.
Call two models, one female and one male from each, tell them all
to report here by 11:30 for hair and make-up. After that, call the
designers Paul and Pierre.”

“
Last names?”

“
Paul and Pierre? Lilly, are you
kidding me? It’s like—Prince, you know, there’s no last name, just
call. Tell them it’s an emergency and you’re calling on behalf of
Bobbie Bertucci.”

Lilly’s bug blue eyes stared at me, her face pale and
drained.

“
Did you get that,
Lilly?”

She nodded.

“
Okay, then hop to it!” I clapped my
hands and she snapped out of her trance.

“
Hey,” I called after her. “It’s all
going to be okay!”

She nodded, color slowly returning to her face. I had
her dial extra drivers to pick up the models, including Ella and
Ivy, and I personally attempted to call Oliver six times. I
couldn’t believe he wasn’t already part of Centennial. On second
thought, yes—I could believe it. He had seemed so detached lately,
so ready to move on. Well, maybe he’d be willing to come back for
me.

The morning’s craziness continued to escalate. It was
terrifically cold and rainy under a dreary sky. I had never taken
the time to venture into Wicker Park, but today I was desperate. I
had to find him.

The cab pulled up in front of an old brick apartment
building, the bottom level of which was an indie-type coffee shop.
He would, was all I could think. I sprinted to the door, hit the
doorbell three times, and listened for noise on the other side.
Nothing. I banged three times, putting my ear up to the door. My
ears hurt, and I couldn’t feel my fingers. Bang, bang, bang! I gave
it three more whacks. Silence. I turned around and slid my body
down the door, defeated. Suddenly, I felt the door give way, and I
tumbled backwards. I laid flat on my back, looking up to see a girl
hovering over me in a baggy Blink-182 T-shirt, the Blink-182 shirt
I had given him. . . and nothing else, as I could plainly see from
my unique vantage point. Not even underwear. I scrambled to my
feet, pulling my hair out of my mouth.

“
Uh, hello!” I put my hand out for a
shake. She stared. I put my hand back at my side. She looked
cracked-out and hung-over, her black make-up smudged and her blonde
hair a bird’s nest. I’ll admit her anorexic body and chiseled bone
structure was a bit rocker chic, though. She squinted against the
sky’s overcast glare.