Braless in Wonderland by Debbie Reed Fischer

or a bike, maybe a scooter. Why didn’t you drive your cute little car?”
    â€œThere’s no parking here. Ever. I shouldn’t have bothered bringing my car down.”
    â€œYou’ll need it for the commercial castings. Casting directors ain’t all on the beach.” She lifted a pair of Rollerblades out of her bag and started lacing one on. No wonder her bag looked so bulky.
    Brynn was down on the sidewalk, squinting out at Ocean Drive, as if searching for somebody. “Don’t pay her no nevermind,” Summer said. “You don’t have a big butt. She’s just playing. Truth is, Brynn ain’t bad, really, once you get to know her. Aw, sugar and spice!”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    â€œForgot my sunglasses. Wait here for me, ’kay?” Summer clumped carefully up the steps in her blades, gliding past the NO ROLLERBLADES sign and on into the hotel. I’d noticed she was very spacey, always leaving something after castings and having to go back in and get it. I took out Wuthering Heights and started to read.
    A ridiculously loud Harley pulled up, breaking my concentration. The driver had cornrows and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, probably to show off his tattoos. Brynn hoisted up the hem of her dress and climbed onto the back. She took the apple he handed her over his shoulder, and I heard him say, “Here’s your lunch, biatch,” just before they roared away.
    That had to be Loco Luca, Brynn’s party promoter boyfriend. Miguel had warned me about him. He’s one slim shady. Stay away, Allee girl. Luca never came to the apartment. Brynn always met him out somewhere. What was she doing with that dirtbag? He was right about her being a biatch, but she was so hot she could have anybody. This guy, with his hooded eyes and that nose that looked like it had been broken a few times, looked like a lizard.
    And that apple couldn’t be her whole lunch. Come to think of it, I never saw Brynn eating. Hmmm.
    The thought of that apple made my stomach bark (it was way past the growling stage). I’d only had a fat-free blueberry muffin, a cup of coffee, two Nutri-Grain bars, and a water bottle all day, and it was three o’clock. I was exhausted. And hungry. And irritated, which is what I get when I’m exhausted and hungry.
    â€œAllee!” It was Summer, bursting out of the hotel doors on her Rollerblades. She made it down the steps, BlackBerry in hand. “Guess what? I just heard some girls from Irene Marie talking about a casting for Dietra magazine this afternoon, so I called the agency and they’re gonna go ahead and try to get us in on it.”
    Another casting? I didn’t think so. It wasn’t on my to-do list for today, and besides, my feet insisted I get off this insane casting train. “You go. I can’t deal with another casting.”
    She gave me her you’ve-lost-your-cotton-pickin’-mind look. “Allee. This is Dietra ! Uta Scholes is shooting it.”
    â€œOkay, I don’t know what or who that is, but I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m finished. Besides, my butt’s too big, apparently.”
    â€œIt’s a German magazine, high fashion, real big over there, like Moda is in Italy. I reckon it’ll pay beans, but the tear sheets’ll be great for our books. And you need tears real bad. And it’s Uta Scholes. She’s the hottest photographer around right now. Been hearin’ her name a lot.”
    â€œNot happening.” I yawned. “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”
    Now Summer was yawning. Yawns are always contagious. “I hear ya. I didn’t leave the club till three last night. I’m dawg-tired too, but I ain’t missin’ a Dietra casting. Might be for the cover. Oh, and Uta Scholes is a woman.” She waited for me to stand up and cheer. Which I would have done if I wasn’t so wiped. “Been wantin’ to meet