Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) by Isabelle Peterson Page A

and they got to watch what I did. We took some fun pictures on set, too. I took them out and treated them to dinner. They said that Mom wanted to come, but she wouldn’t think of crossing Dad.
    I could have moved out of Becca’s place after about four months of working, but it would have been a shit hole, since I didn’t earn even one-tenth of what Becca did. So, I stayed. Besides, we got along really well and hung out when we were both in town. Becca continued to work, despite her previous concerns that her career was ending. She traveled a lot, and if she wasn’t traveling, I was. So it was a perfect arrangement. I kept depositing money into the bank, looking forward to when I could start college. And Becca taught me all the ins and outs of this crazy business, along with correcting my grammar along the way. Apparently, I had ways of saying things that drove her nuts. Like when I say, “I want a beer bad.” She’d always correct me and say, “Badly. You want it badly. ” Sometimes I would say it wrong just to annoy her. She’d gotten an English degree from Columbia and she loved to throw that in my face.
    There were many perks of working as a model, the paycheck only a piece of it. It wasn’t just the prestige and the parties. Or seeing your face on the cover of a magazine or on a billboard in Times Square. We got a lot of pre-release stuff. Like the Walkman that never left Becca’s side; she’d gotten hers a whole two months before the thing was even to be released on the market. Why? Because she was the model selected to promo it, until they went with a younger girl anyway. The parties we went to were amazing, even if incredibly intimidating. The celebrities we met and the high-end everythings were incredible, but the never-ending supply of illicit drugs was astounding.
    Becca knew several models who’d lost everything from drug use, and she was careful to keep me from it. In fact, she admitted that several years back, she had started down that road and ended up nearly losing everything herself. She said that when Danny left and she got drunk the weekend of our first runway show together, that her manager Frannie asked me to become Becca’s roommate because Frannie was afraid that Becca might start using again. At any rate, I was always there to rescue her when she was in a situation, and she was there to rescue me.
    I kept away from drugs, but I had certainly found my addiction. One of the biggest perks of being a ‘big time model’ was the never ending line of girls, many with lemon juice bleached hair and Bain de Soleil tans willing to give me a blow job or jump in the sack at a moments notice. I finally got my dream of more than one chick at a time. On more than one occasion I could be found in bed with two or three babes. Shit that was hot! Sometimes I didn’t have to be there. The girls would be totally into each other, and I could sit up close, watch them kiss or eat each other out and I could play with their tits, or be fucking one. And they didn’t think it made me a Jackass. Basically, I fell into this pattern of hollow meaningless one night stands.
    On the one hand, it was great—no commitment. I was living every dude’s dream. But on the other hand, I was getting tired of not having a steady. Half the girls I slept with were only with me because they saw my face in some ad, or heard I was a model, but had no idea who I was. The other half thought I could somehow get them their big break into the field. I grew more and more demanding in bed, thinking it would give me a bad rep. Instead, the girls fell even harder. And I found the high of being domineering very addictive.
    I thought it odd that Becca never dated anyone. Clearly she was capable, having been with Danny for six years. Guess he had really done a number on her.
    But mostly, Becca and I remained unattached to “that someone special.” We’d still fuck like stupid kids, and the next morning we’d be back to just roommates. So.