Page 5 of Honkers Under the Holly

As Zoe stomped out, I slumped against the counter. “Ooph. I think we’re both in the doghouse. Or goose-house, as the case may be.”

I glanced at the clock. Zoe wasn’t wrong about me not working. I was hoping my meeting with the Elite One agency owner today would change that. One could not live on Oktoberfest tips alone. Especially since this was the last week. “Okay, Your Honkness, change of plans. You’re coming with me to my room while I get ready. Tessa’s away on assignment, so you’ll have the place to yourself while I’m at the agency.”

Sir Honksalot seemed perfectly content with this arrangement, especially when I turned on some music. Classic Whitney Houston played, and he began to bob his head in time with the music, his whole body swaying.

“Oh my god,” I laughed. “You really are something else, but I can’t blame you. We all wanna dance with somebody.”

The agency was bustling when I arrived, models and photographers rushing about in controlled chaos. I made my way to Magda’s office, my portfolio clutched tightly to my chest. She’d had me do some new shoots in hopes of attracting new interest.

I was really hoping that the fact she’d called me to a meeting that this was it. My chance to finally book a real job.

Magda looked up as I entered, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of my appearance. “Ah, Sara Jayne. Come in and close the door, please.”

I perched on the edge of the chair across from her desk, trying to project confidence I didn’t feel. “Thank you for seeing me, Magda. I have those new photos?—”

“Sara Jayne,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Yes, I’ve seen them, and they’re good. But we need to discuss your progress. Or rather, the lack thereof.”

My heart sank right through my stomach and dropped to the floor. This wasn’t about a new job. “Okay. What can I do?”

Magda sighed, taking off her glasses. “It’s been six months since we signed you. In that time, you’ve booked exactly two jobs. Both local, both low-paying. We need to strategize.”

“I’ve been doing everything my agent asks,” I offered, but she understood that. I didn’t know what else to do. “I’ve been to every casting call, every?—”

“I know,” Magda cut in. “Your work ethic isn’t the issue. The fact is, the plus-size market is... challenging. Especially here in L.A. We might need to consider some alternative markets.”

I tensed, sensing where this was going. She didn’t mean back to Germany. “What kind of alternative markets?”

Magda hesitated, then said, “We’ve had some interest from weight loss companies. They’re always looking for ‘before’ models, and?—”

“No,” I said firmly, cutting her off. “Absolutely not. I won’t do weight loss ads.”

“Sara Jayne, be reasonable. It could be a good opportunity to be seen.”

“April De la Reine has never settled, never let the industry dictate her career, even through seven pregnancies,” I said, my voice rising. “And I won’t either. I’m here to be a fashion model, not to perpetuate harmful stereotypes.”

Magda held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I understand. And between you and me, I respect your stance. I’m a fan of April’s work too. Not just in modeling, but in bodypositivity. Lord knows our industry could use some of that.” She leaned back in her chair, considering me. “But we need to do something to boost your visibility. Have you considered social media?”

I blinked, thrown by the change in direction. “Social media?”

“Yes. There’s this up-and-coming thing called InstaSnap. It’s all the rage with the younger crowd, and since it’s amazing pictures and videos, it’s perfect for our industry. If you could build a following there, showcase your personality along with your modeling... it could open up a lot of doors.”

I nodded slowly, bringing things together, everything whirling in my mind. “I could do that. Sir Honks—I mean, I have some ideas that could be interesting.”

Magda raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment about my near slip. “Good. Work on that. In the meantime, I’ll keep pushing for fashion bookings and look into some networking opportunities for you.”

She paused, thinking for a moment, then added, “Actually, my husband and I are having a holiday party next week at my estate. You haven’t been out yet, but we do a lot of photoshoots there and I like to entertain.”

She gave me a once up and down look as if evaluating what she wanted to say next. “Why don’t you come? It could be good for you to meet some potential clients and industry people in a more relaxed setting. Of course, there are Jones’s football buddies too, so you might bring a date if you don’t want them all over you.”

HolyHagebuttenmark. An invitation to one of Magda’s parties was usually reserved for models at the agency at the top of their game. If she wanted me to come, she must really believe in my potential. I was blown away by the offer.

“Thank you, yes. I’ll be there. Thank you.” I sounded like a fool, but I couldn’t get over the invite. Maybe I really could getmy foot in the door and get some jobs. And if I could get jobs it meant other little girls around the world who ‘had a pretty face’ or ‘would be so pretty if they’d just lose a few pounds’ might just feel seen too.

I left Magda’s office, my head was spinning with everything we’d discussed. An InstaSnap account. A holiday party. But still no solid bookings.

My phone buzzed with a text. It was from Mac.

Can’t stop thinking about last night. And this morning. And Sir Honksalot’s dance moves. Coffee later? I might have some news about our feathered friend.

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