Read When She Was Bad... for Free Online

desire to tell her the truth. ‘They just decided to go in another direction. We’ll get the next one.’
    ‘Bill, if you want to remain my agent, I suggest you tell me exactly what they said,’ Lira replied coldly.
    He did want to remain her agent. ‘Don’t take it personally. The guy said that he didn’t want a minor model, that he wanted somebody well known, he had a big brand to sell, and Models Six should know better than to waste his time.’
    What the guy had actually said was that he didn’t want some two-bit fat chick from the inner pages, but Bill wasn’t brave enough to relay that message to his client. °
    ‘What’s the name of the account executive?’
    ‘Rupert Lancaster. A llmey.’ Bill realized too late what that look on her face meant. ‘But you can’t go over there, Lira. He works for Benson Bailey and we do a lot of work with them. tkenee has a shot at an EstSe
    Lauder ad with them …’
    ‘I have to,’ Lira said.
    Bill folded his arms and studied his feet. ‘Lira, I hate to break it to you. But we have bigger clients than you, cover girls, that do a lot of work with Benson Bailey and you’re going to jeopardize our relationship with them if you start causing a scene. We’ll just have to work twice as hard to get you another TV campaign.’
    He looked up. She was already gone.
     
    Lita had chosen her outfit carefully this morning. She threw together pieces from her last ten or so shoots. Nothing stereotypically South
     
    2I
     
    American - that wasn’t the impression she was aiming for. Teetering shoes by Gucci in pale pink leather with rhinestone straps, a one shoulder halter-necked top by Fendi in clinging white jersey, to bring out her golden skin, and a swirling, bias-cut printed skirt by Mary Quant in eggshell blue and ivory. Her hair had been blown out by P,,oberto at Elizabeth Arden and blew glossy and perfect in a loose mane around her shoulders. She topped it all off with a pair of huge white Chanel sunglasses set with crystal and bright glittery silver eyeshadow. Even her underwear was Dior - a tiny wisp of coffee-coloured lace, a thong, with a matching underwired bra. Over the top she threw a belted cotton Burberry raincoat.
    As she reached the lobby of Benson Bailey, Lita examined herself in
    the mirror. Perfect. She looked like a dusky flower child, like a groupie with a million bucks. She could have stepped off the back of a lolling Stones tourbus with no problem. It was so, so, so… sixty-nine. With money.
    The receptionist fairly quailed when Lita strutted up to her desk. ‘What floor is Rupert Lancaster again? I work with Bill Fisher over at Models Six. I have some details I need to discuss with him on an account.’
    ‘Eighth floor, ma’am,’ the girl said hastily.
    ‘That’s right. Floor eight,’ Lita agreed, and stepped over to the elevators. A suited man dived to press the button to hold it open for her. Lira minutely inclined her head. Long ago she had learned not to thank men for things. You always had to act like it was your right. Otherwise men assumed it wasn’t, and they wanted you to pay for it.
    Her adrenaline started to race as the floors ticked off. This was taking
    a risk. Even though she had ignored Bill, what he said was true. If she pissed off this Rupert dude enough to cost lenee that campaign, a million-dollar job that would net hundreds of Łhousands in commission for Models Six, they might drop her. And even though she’d get new representation, the jobs would lessen, would drop in price. Nobody wanted to work with ‘difficult’ girls. As much as she refused to budge on the money and the clothes, Lita was not known as difficult. She showed up on time, she was polite to the photographers, she stole nobody’s boyfriends, she didn’t shoot up, she didn’t come to work with bags under her eyes and she didn’t try and get out early. She did what she was told. If Lira Morales was your model, you could expect to pay, but you could also