* * *
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Kelly was in the library to see Mrs. Houston.
Mrs. Houston looked up, surprised to see Kelly in the library so early. "Good morning, Kelly. Have you had a chance to look at the magazines?" "Yes." Kelly took a deep breath. "I would like to try being a model. The problem is that I have no idea where to start." Mrs. Houston smiled. "I do. I looked in the New York telephone directory. You said you wanted to leave this town?" Mrs. Houston took a typed sheet of paper from her purse and handed it to Kelly.
"This is a list of the top dozen modeling agencies in Manhattan, with their addresses and telephone numbers." She squeezed Kelly's hand. "Start at the top." Kelly was stunned. "I-I don't know how to thank-" "I'll tell you how. Let me see your photograph in these magazines." At dinner that evening, Kelly said, "I've decided that I'm going to be a model." Her stepfather grunted. "That's your stupidest idea yet. What the hell's the matter with you?
All models are whores." Kelly's mother sighed. "Kelly, don't make my mistake. I had false dreams, too.
They'll kill you.
You're black and poor. You're not going anywhere." That was the moment Kelly made her decision.
* * *
AT FIVE O'CLOCK the following morning, Kelly took a packed suitcase from under her bed and headed for the bus station. In her purse was two hundred dollars that she had earned babysitting.
The bus ride to Manhattan took two hours, and Kelly spent that time fantasizing about her future.
She was going to become a professional model. "Kelly Hackworth" did not sound professional.
I know what I'll do. I'll just use my first name. She said it in her mind over and over. And this is our top model, Kelly.
* * *
SHE CHECKED INTO a cheap motel, and at nine o'clock, Kelly walked in the front door of the modeling agency at the top of the list Mrs. Houston had given her.
Kelly had no makeup on and was wearing a wrinkled dress, because she had no way to iron her clothes.
There was no one at the reception desk in the lobby. She approached a man sitting in an office, busily writing at a desk.
"Excuse me," Kelly said.
The man grunted something without looking up.
Kelly hesitated. "I wondered if you needed a model." "No," the man muttered, "we're not hiring." Kelly sighed. "Thank you, anyway." She turned to leave.
The man glanced up, and his expression changed. "Wait! Wait a minute. Come back here." He had jumped to his feet. "My God. Where did you come from?" Kelly looked at him, puzzled. "Philadelphia." "I mean-never mind. Have you ever modeled before?" "No." "It doesn't matter. You'll learn it here, on the job." Kelly's throat was suddenly dry. "Does that mean I'm-I'm going to be a model?" He grinned. "I'll say. We have clients who will go crazy when they see you." She could hardly believe it. This was one of the biggest modeling agencies in the business and they"My name is Bill Lerner. I run this agency. What's your name?" This was the moment Kelly had been dreaming of. This was the first time she was going to use her new, one-word professional name. Lerner was staring at her. "Don't you know your name?" Kelly drew herself up to her full height and said confidently, "Of course I do. Kelly Hackworth."
Chapter Nine
THE SOUND OF the plane buzzing low overhead brought a smile to Lois Reynolds's lips. Gary. He was late. Lois had offered to go to the airport to meet him, but he had said,
"Don't bother, sis. I'll take a taxi."
"But, Gary, I'll be glad to-" "It will be better if you stay home and wait for me there." "Whatever you say, bro."
* * *
HER BROTHER HAD always been the most important person in Lois's life. Her growing-up years, in Kelowna, had been a nightmare. From the time Lois was a young girl, she felt that the world was against her: glamour magazines, fashion models, female movie stars-and just because she was a little plump. Where was it written that buxom girls could not be just as beautiful as sickly-looking, skinny girls?
Lois Reynolds would constantly study her reflection in the mirror. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, delicate pale features, and what Lois considered a pleasantly full-figured body.
Men can go around with their beer bellies hanging over their pants and no one says a word. But let a woman put on a few pounds and she's an object of scorn. What male moron had the right to decide that the ideal woman s figure should be 36-26-36?
For as long as Lois could remember, her schoolmates had mocked her behind her back-"fat ass," "tubby," "porky." The words hurt deeply. But Gary had always been there to defend her.
By the time Lois had graduated from the University of Toronto, she had had enough of the teasing.
If Mr. Wonderful is looking for a real woman, I'm here.
* * *
AND ONE DAY, unexpectedly, Mr. Wonderful appeared. His name was Henry Lawson.
They met at a church social, and Lois was immediately attracted to him. He was tall, thin, and blond, with a face that seemed always ready to smile and a disposition that matched it. His father was the minister of the church. Lois spent most of her time at the social with Henry, and while they were talking, she learned that he owned a successful nursery and was a nature lover.
"If you're not busy tomorrow night," he said, "I'd like to take you to dinner." There was no hesitation on Lois's part. "Yes, thank you." Henry Lawson took her to the popular Sassafraz, one of the finest restaurants in Toronto. The menu was tantalizing, but Lois ordered a light dinner because she did not want Henry to think she was a gourmand.