The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [49]
Ramona’s expression brightened. “Maybe I could use one of your photographers. Those are great pictures. I’d be willing to pay, if it isn’t too expensive.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me about you.”
Ramona sketched her fictitious past: born in Taos, raised in southern Colorado, high school graduate, work experience in boutiques and women’s clothing stores, divorced with no children, new to Albuquerque with no friends or relatives close by.
“So, you know something about fashion,” Bedlow said. “That’s a plus. Now tell me why you’d really like to be a model.”
Ramona gave Bedlow a shy glance. “I guess I’m bored. I want to do something exciting, have an adventure, meet interesting people. I got married too young and now that I’m divorced I’d like to have some fun before I get too old. That’s one of the reasons I decided to move to Albuquerque.”
“Modeling is hard work.”
“I’ve worked hard all my life,” Ramona replied.
Bedlow smiled. “Are you working now?”
“I’m looking. I wanted to find out about your agency before I took a job, so I can fit the classes into my schedule if you decide to accept me. How expensive is the program?”
“The classes run for twelve weeks and cost three thousand dollars.”
“Oh,” Ramona said. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
Bedlow patted Ramona’s knee. “Don’t be discouraged, I sometimes offer a tuition loan to a student I think has potential. You would have to sign a contract with the agency and agree to repay your tuition from your earnings after graduation. But with your looks that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“First things first,” Bedlow said, rising to gather a brochure, a student application, and an agency contract from her desk. “Let’s get you started on enrolling, and have some photographs taken.”
Ramona stood and took the forms from Bedlow’s hand. “This is so much fun,” she said breathlessly. “Can I fill these out while I’m here?”
“If you like.”
“I’ve just moved into an apartment and I don’t have a phone yet. Will that be a problem?”
“Not at all.”
“Where should I go to get the pictures taken?”
Bedlow gave her a business card for a photographer, and directions to get to his home studio in a residential area not far away. “He does all my photography work. I’ll call and see if he can fit you in today. He’ll do some proof sheets, which you can bring back to me this afternoon.”
“That would be super,” Ramona said, flashing a big smile. “Thank you, thank you.”
Bedlow laughed. “We’ll talk again soon, later in the day.”
Left outside Bedlow’s closed office door, Ramona sat on the edge of a carpeted raised platform and looked through the application forms and tuition loan contract. The contract had a clause that required the immediate full repayment of the tuition loan with interest if the student refused to accept any assignment arranged or sponsored by the agency.
It seemed straightforward enough, but Ramona wondered why the clause didn’t specify modeling assignments, given the detailed legalese of the rest of the document.
As she was filling out the application a car pulled to the curb and a young blond woman got out. Dressed in tight jeans and a bulky sweater, the blonde was thin and leggy. She took two last puffs on a cigarette, ground it under the toe of a spiked-heel red boot, and pushed her way inside. There was a welt under her eye, a bruise on the chin, and one cheek was puffy and swollen.
The blonde glanced at Ramona and started pacing back and forth. “Is she in?” she asked, her words slightly slurred.
Ramona nodded. “On the phone.”
“Shit.”
“What happened to you?” Ramona asked, oozing sympathy.
“Boyfriend,” the blonde replied after a slight hesitation. “He’s history.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” the blonde answered, agitated.
“Did he hurt you bad?