Mama's Fallen Angel

By the time that Bobbie finished her shift at work it was nearly ten p.m., and though she was exhausted she knew that sleep was a luxury that her mind was not going to grant her that night. After all, why would anyone waste time on sleep when such a great opportunity had graced their life with its presence? It was definitely the chance that she had always dreamed of. It had taken all the willpower she could muster to keep herself from telling Jack about what had happened.

“What would have happened if he’d been able to take the delivery after all?” she wondered as she began the mile long walk home. After putting much thought into this question, her confused expression was soon replaced with a smile. She had come to the conclusion that only fate could be responsible for this turn of events.

“How was work?” her mother asked upon her arrival into the kitchen. She was aloof, as per usual, and was hands deep in a sink full of dirty dishes, scrubbing absentmindedly at the grime of that evening’s dinner as she spoke. The counter tops and cabinets shone with an unusual luster, and the drapes lacked their usual thin coating of dust. She must have spent the entire day cleaning.

“It was work, just like any other day,” Bobbie replied. It wasn’t the whole truth, but, nevertheless, it wasn’t a complete lie either. “I’m hoping for a raise soon.”

“That’s something to strive for. Don’t get your hopes up too high though; the economy isn’t doing very well at the moment. It wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t get it.”

“There’s always hope,” Bobbie thought to herself, shaking her head at her mother’s naivety. Instead of arguing with her mother’s statement aloud she made the more logical decision and ended the conversation with a sharp, agreeable nod.

It was only after she made sure that no one was watching that she casually made her way up the staircase. It was important that she not make it obvious that there was something out of the ordinary going on, because her family had always had a knack for noticing when things were out of place. It didn’t matter if there was a visible change in her disposition or not. They always knew.

She was about halfway down the hall when an unidentified object suddenly flew into her path, causing her to stumble and nearly fall. She would have, were it not for a chair that was nearby. This was followed by a series of giggles from her youngest brother, Allen, as he scrambled to collect his toy. She merely shook her head. Little brothers.

Once shielded by the privacy of her own bedroom, she was finally able to unleash some of the excitement that had been simmering for hours. Upon looking in the mirror once more, it was easy to see that the resulting reflection was quite different than it had been earlier that day. By now, the Aqua Net had dissolved, leaving her hair a limp, partly teased mess, but the once expressionless mouth had transformed into a dazzling ivory smile.

The closet door opened and closed as she pulled a pair of violet colored silk pajamas off of a hanger, not wasting any time to remove her current clothes and replace them with the new ones. The feeling of that constricting uniform falling away from where it clung to her hips and shoulders was a relaxing feeling in itself. Work was over, and another day’s worth of paycheck had been earned. Still, though, was the lingering thought in her mind of the man and the card which now lay on the floor in her pants pocket. She leaned over cautiously, as if she was afraid it would bite her, and slowly brought it up to her face.



Bobbie carefully studied every piece of information on the small piece of paper that had become so important in such a short period of time. By the time the words ‘Hollywood Boulevard’ registered in her brain, she was suffering from a case of the jitters that one usually only experiences during a bad sugar high.

“Hollywood?” she thought to herself. “The Hollywood?”

It was almost surreal, realizing that she had been given a possible ticket to the life of her dreams by a complete stranger, though she wasn't sure if that was really the case. For all she knew, this was just some kind of a survey, not a job offer. Some might say that it seemed a little too good to be true; however, when you’re a teenager, and have been looking for a way out for most of your life, reality doesn’t come crashing down upon you like it should.

Instead, everything was beginning to feel like a page or two out of a romance novel or a fairy tale.

Doubtful thoughts and the current late hour kept Bobbie from picking up the pearly white phone receiver that sat on a mahogany night stand near her bed. What if this was all some kind of a joke, and it had all just been staged by someone who felt like playing ‘trick the delivery girl’? What if the man answered the phone and laughed at her for deciding to make the call in the first place? What if it was a fake card and he was some kind of predator? What would she do then?

It was for these reasons and many more that the phone was left untouched and that the card was tucked away in the depths of her sock drawer.

Several long days passed by. Bobbie had allowed recent events to become clouded in her mind in an attempt to keep herself busy. Considering that distractions in this part of town were not an ample resource, this was a rather difficult feat. Everything she did, everything she heard, and everything she saw triggered some kind of a fragment of a thought that led to thoughts of city lights and limousines.



It was a quiet spring morning in the small town in Oregon. The same slight breeze that was
associated with the season was whispering playfully through the open windows of Bobbie’s bedroom. At that particular moment, she was watching a sitcom on her television set and painting her nails a glimmering shade of blue. The only accessory that she loved more than makeup was nail polish, especially blue shades. They brought out her eyes, and whether there was a special occasion or not, looking good was always a priority, sometimes to a fault.

The peace was suddenly disturbed by the warbled ringing of the telephone next to her bed. Without hesitation she shuffled to the other side of the bed, shaking her hands to try to speed up the nail polish drying process.

“Hello?” she said as she held the receiver to her ear.

“Hello,” a gruff voice replied, “May I speak to Bobbie Miller?”

“This is her,” she answered, confused. Bobbie was not her real name. In actuality, her name was Barbara, and most of the time when she received a call from someone other than a close friend or family member, they referred to her as such.

“This is Christopher Simmons, manager of the Los Angeles Modeling Company.”

She froze where she sat, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

“I’d like to speak to you about working for me.”