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The Girl In The Band - The Lead Singer - Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2022-04-29 14:16:56 +0000 UTCOTHER CHAPTERS | ALL STORY LIST
As we gathered in the lobby of the record company, Winters said, “Okay, that’s it for today. You have the afternoon free to go get lunch and take in some sights or relax or whatever. I suggest you don’t go too far from the hotel. Tonight I’ve arranged dinner for you all to celebrate. And we’ll see you in the studio tomorrow morning at seven a.m. sharp!” As we all started to walk towards the exit, Mr. Winters motioned to me and said, “Not you, honey.
You need to stay with me.” Confused, I looked toward Mom. I had watched Winters and Mom talk about something out of earshot from the rest of us before we got into the elevators to come down to the lobby. Mom just said, “Yes dear. You need to go with Mr. Winters. It’ll be fun. Take care and we’ll see you later, Mr. Winters,” and Mom turned and exited the building. Taking a step away from Winters, not sure what his intentions were, I said, “So what’s the deal, Mr. Winters?
Why can’t I go have lunch with them?” He glanced at his watch, “Because, Miss Gray, we have much to do today.” He looked around expectantly and then said, “Let’s wait outside.” We left the building and walked a few feet over to a fountain with benches. There were a couple of boys who should have been in school, riding their skateboards down the steps and railings of the small, park-like area.
I stood there for a minute and watched them annoy the other people trying to sit and read or whatever on their benches. It made me wish I had my skateboard so I could join in the fun. They looked over at me, and a few moments later, they were doing fancier and more risky stunts. At first, I just smiled and laughed, envious of their skill. They kept making sure I was watching. Then, it slowly dawned on me. The display was completely for my benefit. They were showing off for a girl.
Me. I scowled and putting my hands in my pockets in a defensive gesture, I spun around and walked back to Mr. Winters. After a short wait, a very pretty young woman came up to us. Mr. Winters stood and said, “Ah, finally! What kept you?” She was chewing gum, wearing shades, and dressed very stylishly. In answer, she shrugged and said simply, “Traffic.” Without skipping a beat, Winters turned toward me and said, “Michelle, meet your new best friend, Brooklyn Farrell.
She’s a fashion consultant.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket with a list written on it. He handed the list to Brooklyn. “Brook here’s kind of what the label would like for Michelle’s image. They think there are too many grungy-looking girls, but they don’t want a squeaky-clean image either. They feel the demographic she’ll appeal to most will fall into the twelve to fourteen-year-old girls, so they want an image that they can identify with and parents not feel threatened by.”
“No problem, Hal,” Brooklyn chirped. “I thought I’d take her for a quick lunch to this great place down the street, then to my favorite salon for a facial, do her hair and nails,” she looked over at me, beaming, and she continued, “and then the best part. We go shopping! What kind of budget do I have, Hal?” “Enough.” He handed her a credit card, “Just don’t break the bank, okay?”
She smiled knowingly, “Don’t worry. I’ll behave.” Stunned, I croaked, “Now just a minute! Mr. Winters, I don’t want this. I’m fine the way I am!” Winters took on a stern look as he said, “Miss Gray, most girls would kill to have the opportunity I’m just handing to you. Don’t forget, you represent the label now, and they’re investing a lot of money in you. They want their money’s worth.”
“Is this your first time in L.A.?” asked Brooklyn from across the small table. We were eating outside at a small but fancy café that seemed to cater mainly to women. They didn’t have real food like hamburgers or chicken-fried steak. All they had were delicate meatless sandwiches, salads, and soups. As I nibbled on my boring sandwich, I replied, “Yep. First time.” “What do you think of it?” I wrinkled up my nose as I looked around, “It’s certainly big and crowded.
I don’t think I could live here.” Brooklyn just smiled a knowing smile, “Well, you can’t get an opportunity like this in a small town.” I shrugged and said, “Actually, if we’d been living here, I doubt we’d ever been noticed.” Still starving after lunch, we got in Brooklyn’s car, and we headed to Burbank where we went to someplace called “Wax Poetic.” I was surprised I had an appointment there. Brooklyn said that we didn’t have time for the full treatment.
As it was, we were there for a couple of hours. I thought about running away, but I sucked it up, knowing that this was the price I was having to pay for our hit song. I hoped it was all going to be worth it. Guys who I wouldn’t want to stand close to in an elevator were putting horrible goop on my face and re-arranging my hair. Brooklyn directed how they did my hair. They wanted to do some wild and weird hair-do, but she kept them to a simpler style.
Afterward, my hair seemed to cascade down past my shoulders instead of just hanging straight and limp like it did. Some of my hair partially covered an eye and it drove me crazy. Brooklyn told me to leave it alone since it was supposed to do that. Looking in the mirror, if I’d been looking at a girl, I would have thought she had really pretty hair.
Knowing it was me, just made my stomach churn. Then in another room, some guy with long, spiky hair and two days’ beard growth applied make-up to me. I really didn’t like him touching my face. I got the general impression that he’d rather be getting the works instead of me. When it was all over, I stood in front of a full-length mirror and I was totally stunned. I saw an absolutely gorgeous girl staring back at me.
It was amazing. And now, the clothes I was wearing, which I had thought were certainly okay, now looked out of place and frumpy. Brooklyn walked up and stood beside me, “Well, Michelle, what do you think?” I couldn’t help smiling as I ran my hand through my hair and stared at myself, “I can’t believe it! I look like a model.”Being beautiful was a new experience for me.
I really wasn’t sure how I felt. I still didn’t want to have to pretend to be a girl, but as I gazed into the mirror, I found that I loved the way I looked. It was too hard to believe that I was looking at me and not some total babe. I lusted after myself.
Laughing, Brooklyn said, “It’s amazing what the right make-up and hair will do for a girl.” She stood back and looked me up and down, shaking her head. A grin spread across her face as she said, “Now the real fun begins. Going shopping with someone else’s credit card!”
We spent what seemed like days going up and down Rodeo Drive. I guess women really go for this kind of thing. It didn’t take long for me to get completely sick of going from store to store, trying on various outfits. We bought dresses for casual wear, evening wear and God knows where. We bought shoes. We bought ten pairs of shoes ranging from stiletto heels to expensive designer sneakers. I had to beg Brooklyn to stop buying shoes.
We bought purses. Big purses, tiny purses, different colored purses. I thought my eyeballs were going to fall out from looking at so many purses. Brooklyn even insisted on buying lingerie. Brooklyn loaded a few items we bought into the trunk of her car. The rest she had delivered to our hotel. As we climbed into the car, she looked at the clock. “Oh, good. We still have time to get to the photographer for a quick session.”
“Photographer? What are you going to take pictures of?” I asked as I closed my eyes and leaned back into the deep leather-covered seats. I had one massive headache. If I had to look at one more shoe or purse, I was going to hurl. “That’s where we’re meeting Hal. He wanted to get a few publicity photos if possible today.” Brooklyn took a quick look over her shoulder and the car leaped into traffic. As we entered the photography studio, Brooklyn handed me the large shopping bag she’d gotten out of her trunk. “Here, take this and go down the hall to your left.
Three doors down is the women’s dressing room. Change into the ruffled denim skirt and the pink top and come back right here,” directed Brooklyn. “I’ll go find Philippe.” The room was just where she said I’d find it. I went inside. It was empty. I looked in the bag. The skirt she wanted me to wear was there along with a couple of pairs of shoes, one of those damned purses, several pairs of earrings, and a short black dress. I put on the requested clothes.
On a whim, since I had pierced ears anyway, I put on a pair of large hoop earrings that were in the bag. I went back to where I’d left her and waited. A few minutes later, Brooklyn’s head popped up from around the corner down the other hall, “Michelle, this way!” she called. Past the corner, the hallway opened into a large room with a lot of props and various items scattered all around; cables wound their twisty paths around the floor, and photography lights dotted the floor. Other than trying on what seemed like thousands, this was the first real-time I had ever worn a skirt.
I felt naked. There weren’t any pockets to put my hands. I decided I didn’t much care for skirts. Brooklyn was talking to a guy holding a camera. That must have been Philippe. I was beginning to come to the conclusion that every guy in Los Angeles was gay. Brooklyn motioned for me to come over. “Michelle, this is Philippe,” said Brooklyn. “He’s going to take just few pictures of you, and then you’re changing clothes.
Hal should be here soon.” The photo session was embarrassing. He had me try various poses from trying to look innocent to looking sexy. He took pictures for about thirty minutes until Mr. Winters showed up. Winters approached me with a huge grin. “You look absolutely fabulous, my dear!” he exclaimed. He took out a checkbook and then began writing in it. “Brook, you did it again. Excellent work. The image is perfect.” He tore a check from the book and handed it to Brooklyn.
“Thanks, Hal!” Brooklyn examined the check. “I have the best job in the world.” “Philippe? How did it go today?” Hal asked the photographer. “We had a good session. Much too short, but I got some good shots for you. They’ll be delivered to your office tomorrow.” Philippe looked over at me then back to Hal and said, “She’s a great little model, Mr. Winters. She did everything I told her to do.
I wish everyone you sent me was so easy to work with.” Mr. Winters was busy writing another check. Winters looked toward me again and smiled, “Yep, she’s really something else!” “One last thing, girl,” Brooklyn said. “Go change into the dress in the bag. Wear the heels.” She held up her hand as I started to say something. “I know you don’t like them, but wear them anyway. It’s time to grow up and stop being such a tomboy.
Wear the necklace and the pendant earrings too.” When I just frowned and didn’t move, she made a shooing gesture. What a day this had been, I thought as I walked back to the dressing room. There was a floor-length mirror in the room, and I stopped and looked at myself. I shook my head in disbelief. I’m really hot, I thought to myself. If I had any balls, I’d probably be turning myself on right now. If I had any balls, I doubt I’d be here looking like this in the first place.
I pulled the dress out of the bag. It was a short, black dress. Brooklyn told me every girl should have a ‘little black dress.’ It didn’t have much of a cleavage showing the neckline, which was good, since I didn’t have any cleavage. Along with the dress were a slip and pantyhose. And high heels. I had tried walking in them in the store.
I was a little wobbly at first, but it’s not as hard as they always make it in the movies. As I exited the dressing room, Brooklyn was just coming around the corner carrying a purse. “Here, use this purse. I’ve already loaded it with some items you’ll want to have on hand for this evening.” She opened the purse and pulled out a compact and a tube of lipstick. “Here, fix your makeup before you present yourself to Mr. Winters. I need to be going. It was great being with you today!
I hope we get to work together again.”She turned and went out the door. I just stood there for a minute. Then I opened the compact and looked at my face in the mirror. I fixed my lips and put everything back in my purse. I picked up the shopping bag with the skirt and top I was wearing and headed back into the photography studio.
When I entered the room, Winters smiled again, “Michelle, you are stunning! That dress and those shoes. you look absolutely feminine.” Mr. Winters walked all the way around me, nodding his head. “Thank you, Mr. Winters,” I said. “I have to admit, I feel feminine.
If I’m not careful, I might start to like it,” I was joking, of course, “but why did you want me to wear this dress? I feel overdressed standing here.” “Don’t forget. I have arranged for you and the rest of your band to go out for dinner in one of our posh restaurants to celebrate.” “I’m pretty tired, Mr. Winters,” I said honestly. “I was hoping to just kick back at the hotel for a while.” He gave me an odd look and then said, “Well, you need to go. Everybody who is anybody goes there. Members of the media will be there, and you want to be seen.”
I stayed in the limo while Winters left to fetch Mom and the others. When the others started to pile into the car, John looked at me, then looked at me again and exclaimed, “Mike?! Is that you?” I smiled as sweetly as I could and said, “It’s me, John. I’m Michelle, remember? Do you like my dress?”
Before John could answer, Mom, entered the car. The look on Mom’s face was priceless. She said, “You look wonderful, Honey. You’re very pretty tonight! If your father could see you” “He’d shit bricks!” interrupted John. “Good thing he stayed at home!” Mom glowered at John and he added, “Sorry, I’ll try to watch my language.” Fritz’s mouth dropped when he saw me, “Holy shit!” To Mom, he added, “Sorry, Mrs. Gray. Anyway, John, is this majorly hot babe your little brother?”
John nodded and Fritz added, “Can I marry her?” Everyone laughed and curtly, I said, “Ha, ha very funny. Keep it up.” After everyone was settled in, the limo sped off into the fading sunlight.
