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watch the rest of the movie with them.
    “Is that your loser sister calling?” Simone sniped as she tossed back the rest of her drink. She poured herself another, picked up her own phone, and began texting.
    “That’s nice, Simone. You talk like that about Kassie again, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Seeing Giles Sinclair’s name on the caller ID, Kamille hit the talk button. “Hello?”
    “Kamille? It’s Giles Sinclair. Do you have a minute? I have some news.”
    Kamille sat up. The guy worked fast! She had met him exactly a week ago; since then, he had arranged for her to do a test shoot at a supercool photo studio in Culver City and promised to send the pictures out to prospective clients. And he was already calling her with news?
    Kamille dug around for the remote, which was buried under a pile of silk pillows, and turned down the volume. “Hey, Giles. What’s up?” she said eagerly.
    “Jeunesse is launching a new perfume, and they want to use you for their ad campaign!”
    “Whaaaaaat?” Kamille jumped to her feet. Jeunesse, the famous French perfume maker, wanted her for their new ad? “Are you joking? You’re not joking, are you?” she said breathlessly to Giles.
    Giles chuckled. “No, love, I’m not joking. I just got off the phone with them. I must warn you, though, it’s a bit of a rush schedule. They’d originally signed another model for the job, but she had to drop out at the last minute because she just got LASIK eye surgery done. She didn’t realize she can’t wear eye makeup for two weeks after. Anyway, they want to do the photo shoot next Tuesday so they can make the October issues.”
    “Next Tuesday?” That was only four days away.
    “Will that be a problem?”
    “Yes! I mean, no! Next Tuesday’s perfect!”
    “Super! I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning, catching up on some stuff. Why don’t you come by and we can go over the paperwork together? Say, ten o’clock?”
    “I’ll be there. Ohmigod, Giles, I love you!”
    “I’m glad you’re pleased, Kamille. And get used to it, because this is just the beginning. Once this ad comes out, my phone’s going to be ringing off the hook. Everyone’s going to want to use that lovely face of yours.”
    “Ohmigod! Thank you so much!”
    Kamille said good-bye and hung up, almost beside herself with excitement. Her mind raced with a frantic to-do list: total body and face wax; mani-pedi; haircut; facial; a two . . . no, three-day cleanse. No LASIK eye surgery obviously, ha-ha. It was hard to organize her thoughts with so much happening . . . and with so many midori sours in her system.
    “What’s up? You have to explain this movie to me, I have no idea what’s going on,” Simone said, cranking up the volume.
    “Giles got me a modeling job!” Kamille practically screamed.
    “Get the fuck out of here.”
    “I’m shooting a perfume ad for Jeunesse. Isn’t that the most awesome news, ever?”
    “Definitely. Wow, cheers!” Simone raised her empty glass in the air. “Crap, we need to make another pitcher. Hey, does this mean you get free Jeunesse stuff from now on?”
    Simone was obsessed with freebies, which made no sense, since her parents were zillionaires. Or her father was, anyway. He was the owner of the ultrasuccessful Pretty Me cosmetics company. He’d left Simone’s mom ages ago and moved to London, and Simone hadn’t reunited with him until high school, when he moved back to L.A. Kamille knew she liked getting her revenge on him for the years of neglect: by stealing his new (twenty-four-year-old) wife’s designer outfits out of her closet, having sex in them, and returning them stained . . . by marching into Pretty Me salons and demanding thousands of dollars of free products and free services . . . and in general being an attention-whore pain-in-the-ass.
    “I don’t know if I’m getting free Jeunesse stuff, Simone,” Kamille told her. “Anyway, who cares? Ohmigod, I can’t believe this is