Not So Model Home - By David James Page 0,22
was the shabbiest car in the lot, showed up by the Bentleys, Mercedes-Benz SLS, and, landing at the top of the car heap, a beige, two-toned Maybach Landaulet—Ian’s, with the vanity license plate spelling WHAT IF.
I was directed to a tent that had been set up for wardrobe and makeup, which I thought was odd, since this was supposed to be a reality show. Apparently, they didn’t want too much reality. I brought my own bathing suit, opening credits outfit, and several changes of clothing, all of which were put aside in a closet by my stylist, Jacob. Pronounced Yak-obb, even though he didn’t have an accent.
“First thing, we’re going to shoot the opening credits, where you appear with your name. Jeremy wants you looking fabulous, since this shot will not only open each show, but they’ll use this shot in the promos too,” Jacob said, turning me around slowly and sizing me up like a cut of yellowfin tuna at a Japanese fish auction.
“Promos?”
“The commercials they run to advertise the show. Also on the Web site, blogs, etcetera, etcetera. You’re gonna be all over the world. For your credit shot, Jeremy wanted you in this little number,” he said. “The color is more color-friendly to the cameras than the stuff you brought.”
Little is right: There was very little to it. It looked like at one time it was a legitimate dress, but that it had been clawed by a cougar. Folded up, I imagined it filled a measuring cup with room to spare.
“It’s awfully sheer,” I mentioned, a fact that fell on deaf ears.
“Let’s see you in that first, then we’ll do your hair,” he said, shushing me off to a curtained booth to change.
I slipped into the dress, and yes, it was awfully sheer. Thank goddess I worked out, rode eighty miles a week on my road bike, and hiked every other week. When I presented myself to Jacob and looked at myself in the mirror, I could see what was wrong with it right away. My nipples were plainly visible.
“Jacob?” I suggested. “You might want to tape over my nipples . . . they’re showing. We don’t want that on national television, do we?”
I received a withering look that would have killed a cactus.
“Why do you think Jeremy picked out the dress? He wants viewers to see your nipples.”
Clearly, I wasn’t getting through to Jacob. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Trust me, sweetie, we’ll make it look tasteful. We’re not gonna make you look like a street walker.”
As soon as Jacob had uttered those words, they lodged in my head like buckshot from Dick Cheney’s gun. I was going to look like a slut on national television.
“It looks great. Now don’t worry, Miranda.”
“Amanda.”
“Yeah, whatever. Look, you’re in my hands; my job is to make you look great for the show. C’mon. This is a gay show, not The Real Housewives of Orange County. Now there’s a truckload of skanky pole dancers for you. Trust me . . . pleeeeaaassseee?”
“Okay, Jacob. I’m going to trust you.”
“Great, you’re going to look fabulous! Let’s see the hair stylist now.”
“Stylist? I think my hair looks great now.”
This time, a look of do-you-really-think-that-you-poor-thing?
“Jacob, I have a hair stylist here in town. Roberto. Yes, he’s a little dramatic, but he does a good job and he’s good with color. I mean, yes, he does like driving down to Oceanside to pick up Marines occasionally, but . . .”
Jacob stopped leading me toward the hair and makeup styling tent, turned around, then put his hand over my mouth.
“Are you through?”
“Yes, I guess so. I’m just a little nervous.”
“That’s normal. Being on television for the first time.”
“No, not that. I do have a guy who styles my hair here in town. If I get it styled for the show, Roberto is going to know next time I see him.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“He’s a dramatic Brazilian queen. You don’t want to piss off a hairdresser, especially him, any more than you want to aggravate a plastic surgeon as you go under the knife or an airplane pilot before takeoff. They can make life really ugly for you if they want.”
“Amanda, darling, who is this whole show about?”
“Ian Forbes.”
“That’s right. The man who made millions cutting hair correctly. Do you think Jeremy is going to let just anyone cut hair on this show? He knows Ian is going to be watching everything. So relax and trust me. You’re going to have Sebastian from Ian’s own