Kings and Queens

“It’s a good offer Lang,” my agent, Jenn, sighed, “You’re cutting yourself short and cutting your career short.”

I shrugged, “I just think it’s time for me to back away. Bridge is doing well and she has the heart for it, I don’t anymore, at least not like I used to.”

“Bridge is doing well, but you are too. You have the world at your fingertips and I don’t want to see you regret it.”

I let out a sigh, “When do I have to book it?”

“Next Thursday,” she slid some paperwork over her desk toward me, “Think on it.”

I took the schedule and slid it into my purse, “Thanks Jenn.”

As I drove back to my condo on Manhattan Beach I tried to list the pros and cons of this job. Pros: I could get some cute clothes from the shoot, I would get more contacts that could help me or my sister, make friends…maybe, get all dolled up by professionals…all of them were so superficial.

When I got into my house I started to write them down. I sat at the island in the kitchen with a notebook and a list that was heavily weighted on one side.

“Whatcha doing?” my little sister, Bridgette, walked out of her room, just waking up at noon.

“Pros and cons list,” I didn’t look up from my paper.

I heard her whisper and then heard the front door open and close, “Was he cute?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she let out a soft giggle.

“Whore,” I laughed.

“Prude,” she set a glass of orange juice on the counter.

“Hey, I’ve been there, done that,” I finally smiled up at her.

“What’d Jenn want?”

I didn’t want to tell my baby sister the offer I was given because I knew she would either get a little jealous or freak out because it was completely against how we were raised. It was an offer to do a shoot for Playboy, something I used to think I wanted to do when I was the ripe old age of nineteen or twenty. I had always respected those women for being so bold and so beautiful, for being confident enough in their bodies to flaunt them that way, for just throwing their inhibitions out the window and going for it. God I hated them.

“I got a job offer,” I looked back down at my list.

Bridgette walked over to me and started reading over my shoulder, “Cons: Working out, big hair, too much makeup, naked…” she trailed off, “Lang, what’s this for?”

I took a deep breath, “Playboy.”

She choked on her orange juice, “Playboy?”

I just nodded and closed my notebook, “I can’t.”

“Just like that? You’re going to turn down something that big?”

“What little respect I’ve gained here will be shot to shit!” I yelled, “I worked hard to get the contacts I have, to get where I’m at and I’ve done it MY way. I’m tired of it Bridggie, I’m twenty five, almost twenty-six, I’m old.”

“You’re not old,” she shook her head and laughed, “You’re just having a quarter life crisis.”

“I want to do something that has meaning,” I looked down, “Those classes I’ve been taking…”

She cut me off, “Are great and I see that you love them, but this is big.”

“This is a career killer,” I shook my head, “I don’t want to be known as the girl who got naked for Playboy or whatever they want me to do. Besides, I don’t have the body for it anymore.”
Bridgette nodded, “I get it sweetie, but you’re cutting yourself short. Our new neighbor seems to think you have quite the body,” she winked at me.

“New neighbor?” I didn’t even know anyone had moved in recently.

“Not new, but new to us,” she smiled, “Oh, you know, the devastatingly handsome, dog loving, hockey player.”

“Oh him,” I rolled my eyes, “Bridge, he’s an athlete and he’s got eyes for you, not me.”

“He’s gotta be some fun, and Lord knows you need fun,” she stuck out her tongue, “Invited me to his game tonight, told me to bring you…maybe he wants to score some goals," she winked at me, "It's
goals, right?”

I laughed, “Yes, goals and no he wants in your net,” I got up and walked away.