She'll Take It Read Online Free Page B

it. He turned his head sideways. Sideways. Like this.” Kim suddenly dropped her head to the side as if she were a marionette and her neck string had been suddenly severed. I found myself dropping my head sideways in imitation.
    â€œBut they’re perfect,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t think I was a lesbian. “I’m sure my boyfriend would love them,” I added, just in case my preferences were in question. “How dare he. How dare he turn his head sideways. You’re beautiful ! You’re perfect. I just look at you and I think ‘Mmm milk.’” Oh God, now I think I’ve gone too far. I was just trying to be nice, maybe even make a female friend (actresses are notorious for hating each other and hanging out with their male counterparts instead), and now I definitely sound like I’m coming on to her. But she isn’t glaring at me or backing away like I’m a freak; she’s smiling.
    â€œReally? You’re not just saying that?” she says.
    I guess she likes freaks so I continued to lay it on thick. “I’m telling you you’re so perfect you make me sick!” I yelled. “You fucking make me sick!”
    Her face lit up like a neon sign, and she immediately wiped the tears from her eyes. She flipped her long blond hair back and held out a soft, perfectly manicured hand for me to shake. “Kim Minx.”
    â€œMelanie Zeitgar.”
    â€œDo you like Mexican food, Melanie Zeitgar?” she asked.
    â€œLove it,” I lied.
    And so that afternoon Kim and I went out for the first of many margaritas together. Mmm, margaritas. Does the body good. We became fast friends, shopping partners (Kim shopped, I praised and sometimes returned to the stores to steal little tidbits I noticed on my reconnaissance missions), and confidantes. She knows everything about me—except for the bit about stealing, of course. We lost touch for a while when I started classes at NYU, but we’ve been able to pick up the thread. She was the first person I called when my life exploded on me three years ago, and I was the fourth person she called when she found this great rent-controlled apartment last year. Okay, so the friendship isn’t exactly even, but I don’t care. She’s the only one who couldn’t care less about all my little neuroses. But sometimes she can be extremely annoying.
    â€œUh-oh? What?” I whine.
    She turns the page of her magazine before answering. Fashion before friendship. “Tell me what she said again. Exactly.”
    â€œâ€˜Melanie, I’d like to see you in my office. Can you be here at eight A.M.?’”
    â€œUh-oh.”
    â€œKim. Stop saying that. Maybe she has a great assignment for me.”
    â€œI doubt it. But good luck.”
    â€œDo you have to be so honest? Whatever happened to little white lies?”
    â€œSorry, Mel. You’re right. She’s going to give you a fabulous job on the Queen Mary. How’s that?”
    â€œInsincere.”
    â€œI’m sure it’s nothing. Just go in there, smile, and agree with everything she says.” Kim smiles at me by way of example. I smile back. She shakes her head. “You look like you’re in pain.” I imagine Ray kissing my neck and smile again. “Whoa, way too happy,” Kim says. “Discount smile,” she suggests. Kim’s favorite thing in the world is a good sale. I imagine stealing a cashmere sweater. “Perfect,” Kim says. “That’s the smile.

Chapter 3
    A fter several agonizing minutes of smiling, I start frowning. Should I really trust Kim’s advice? Kim is a fellow Fifth Avenue Temp. We’ve been employed through them for years while managing our “creative” careers. For Kim it’s modeling, for me, acting. And if you’re thinking I’m just another flash in the pan who enrolled in a three-year acting program, guess again. I may be only a