Weep No More, My Lady

"But you said-"

"Leila, you really are going to have to learn the business. Photographers don't pay models. The agency pays when it gets the release."

He didn't offer to help them carry down their bags.

A hamburger and milk shake at a restaurant called Chock Full o' Nuts made both of them feel better. Leila had bought a street map of New York City and a newspaper. She began to read the real estate section. "Here's an apartment that sounds about right: 'Penthouse; fourteen rooms, spectacular view, wraparound terrace.' Someday, Sparrow. I promise."

They found an ad for an apartment to share. Leila looked at the street map. "It doesn't look too bad," she said. " Ninety-fifth Street and West End Avenue isn't that far, and we can get a bus."

The apartment turned out to be okay, but the woman's nice smile disappeared when she learned that Elizabeth was part of the deal. "No kids," she said flatly.

It was the same everywhere they went. Finally, at seven o'clock, Leila asked a cabdriver if he knew of any cheap but decent place to stay where she could bring Elizabeth. He suggested a rooming house in Greenwich Village .

The next morning they went to the model agency on Madison Avenue to collect Leila's money. The door of the agency was locked, and a sign read, "Put your composite in the mailbox." The mailbox had a half-dozen manila envelopes in it already. Leila pressed her finger on the bell. A voice came over the intercom. "Do you have an appointment?"

"We're here to pick up my money,"Leila said.

She and the woman began to argue. Finally the woman shouted, "Get lost." Leila pressed the bell again and didn't stop until someone yanked the door open. Elizabeth shrank back. The woman had heavy dark hair all done up in braids on her head. Her eyes were coal black, and her whole face was terribly angry. The woman wasn't young, but she was beautiful. Her white silk suit made Elizabeth realize that the blue shorts she was wearing were faded and the dye on her polo shirt had run around the pocket. She had thought Leila looked so pretty when they started out, but next to this woman Leila seemed overdressed and shabby.

"Listen," the woman said, "if you want to leave your picture you can. You try barging in here again and I'll have you arrested."

Leila thrust out the paper in her hand. "You owe me one hundred dollars and I'm not leaving without it."

The woman took the paper, read it and began to laugh so hard she had to lean against the door. "You really are dumb! Those jokers pull that stuff on all you hicks. Where'd he pick you up? In the bus terminal? Did you end up in the sack with him?"

"No, I did not." Leila grabbed the paper, tore it up and ground the pieces under her heel. "Come on, Sparrow. That guy made a fool of me, but we don't have to give this bitch a good laugh about it."

Elizabeth could see that Leila was so upset she was about to cry and didn't want the woman to see it. She shook Leila's arm off her shoulder and stood in front of the woman. "I think you're mean," she said. "That man acted nice, and if he made my sister work for nothing you should feel sorry about it, not make fun of us." She spun around and tugged Leila's hands. "Let's go."

They started for the elevator, and the woman called after them, "Come on back, you two." They ignored her. Then she yelled, "I said come back!"

Two minutes later they were in her private office.

"You've got possibilities," the woman told Leila. "But those clothes… You don't know a thing about makeup; you'll need a good haircut; you'll need composites. Did you pose in the raw for that creep?"

"Yes."

"Terrific. If you're any good, I'll submit you for an Ivory Soap commercial, and right then is when your picture will show up in a girlie magazine. He didn't take any movies of you, did he?"

"No. At least, I don't think so."

"That's something. From now on, I do the booking for you."

They left in a daze. Leila had a list of appointments at a beauty salon for the next day. Then she would meet the woman from the model agency at the photographer's. "Call me Min," the woman had said. "And don't worry about clothes. I'll bring everything you need."

Elizabeth was so happy her feet could hardly touch the ground, but Leila was very quiet. They walked down Madison Avenue. Well-dressed people hurried by; the sun was shining brightly; hot dog carts and pretzel stands seemed to be on every corner; buses and cars honked at each other; nearly everyone ignored the red lights and sauntered through the heavy traffic. Elizabeth had a wonderful sense of being home. "I like it here," she said.

"So do I, Sparrow. And you saved the day for me. I swear, I don't know who's taking care of who. And Min is good people. But, Sparrow, there's something I've found out from that stinking father of mine, and from Mama's lousy boyfriends, and now from that bastard yesterday.

"Sparrow-I'm never going to trust a man again."

Two

Elizabeth opened her eyes. The car was sliding noiselessly past Pebble Beach Lodge, along the tree-lined road where glimpses of estate homes could be seen through hedges of bougainvillea and azaleas. It slowed down as it rounded a bend and the tree that gave Cypress Point Spa its name came into view.

Disoriented for a moment, she brushed the hair back from her forehead and looked around. Alvirah Meehan was beside her, a blissful smile on her face. "You must be worn out, poor thing," Alvirah said. "You've been asleep practically since we left the airport." She shook her head as she gazed out the window. "Now, this is really something!" The car passed through the ornate iron gates and wound its way up toward the main house, a rambling three-story ivory stucco mansion with pale blue shutters. Several swimming pools were dotted through the grounds near the clusters of bungalows. At the north end of the property there was a patio, with umbrella tables scattered around both sides of the Olympic-size pool. Identical adobe buildings were on either side of the pool. "These are the men's and women's spas," Elizabeth explained.

The clinic, a smaller edition of the main house, was at its right. A series of paths lined by high flowering hedges led to individual doorways. The treatment rooms were entered through these doors, and treatments were spaced far enough apart so that guests avoided encountering each other.

Then, as the limousine followed the curve of the driveway, Elizabeth gasped and leaned forward. Between the main house and the clinic, but placed well behind them, a huge new structure had come into view, its black marble exterior, accentuated by massive columns, making it loom like an ominous volcano about to erupt. Or like a mausoleum, Elizabeth thought.

"What's that?" Alvirah Meehan asked.

"It's a replica of a Roman bath. They had just broken ground for it when I was here two years ago. Jason, is it open yet?"

"Not finished, Miss Lange. The construction just goes on and on."

Leila had openly mocked the plans for the bathhouse. "Another of Helmut's grand schemes for separating Min from her money," she said. "He won't be happy until Min is officially declared a shopping-bag lady."