Kass
Kass slipped on her Ray-Bans as she walked out of the Marshall School of Business and reread her econ notes. The professor had sprung a pop quiz on them, on antitrust laws, and she was worried that she might have gotten one of the answers wrong. She knew she had an almost perfect average in that class, from the previous two quizzes. But still. Almost perfect was not the same as perfect, and besides, the fall semester had just begun. A lot could go wrong between now and December.
The palm-tree-lined walk outside the building was swarming with students rushing off to their next class. It was a hot, sultry day, typical for late August in SoCal. On the lawn, a group of girls was sunbathing in bikinis and bobbing their heads, connected by a complex network of white earbuds. She recognized a few faces from her class. She couldn’t imagine cutting, especially with a teacher like Professor Mueller, who took no prisoners when it came to attendance. Kass herself had not missed a single class in her three years at USC, except once when she had a temperature of 103. And even then, her mother had to force her to stay home, because James Cameron was guest-lecturing in her film class that day.
Kamille had been right when she made that (bitchy) comment several Sunday Night Dinners ago. Kass did have her whole life planned out, or at least the career part of it, and it involved both stellar attendance and stellar grades. She was going to graduate summa cum laude—with highest honors—with a double major in business administration and film and television production.
Eventually, she would use her degree to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a producer. In the meantime, her USC education was helping her with her job at the restaurant, which was badly in need of careful management. Her mother’s forte was creating menus, not spreadsheets.
Her cell buzzed. It was a call from Kamille.
“KASSIE!” Kass had to hold her phone away from her ear because her sister was screaming. “GUESS WHAAAAAT?”
“I can hear you, doll. What’s going on? Are you all right?”
“I’m better than all right. Guess who I just met?”
“Taylor Lautner?”
“Better! Giles Sinclair!”
“I’m sorry—who?”
“He’s a modeling agent, and he represents Svetlana Sergeyev, can you believe it? He came up to me at a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, it was so random, and he wanted to talk to me about modeling. I was, like, ‘Get lost’ at first, but then I realized he was legit. And guess what, Kass? He wants me to do a test shoot! You know what that is, right? It’s a professional photo shoot so he can get sample pictures of me to send to, like, advertising agencies. Advertising agencies that work for fashion designers and makeup companies and stuff. I’m gonna be a model!”
Kass’s head was spinning. “Wait. Who is this guy? And I know what a test shoot is.”
“I just told you. He’s a modeling agent. He’s one of the biggest in the business.”
“How do you spell his name? Let me check him out.”
“I already did. He’s got the coolest website ever.”
“Spell it for me, anyway.”
Kass could hear the heavy sigh on the other end of the line as Kamille spelled the name. Hmm. Giles Sinclair. It sounded faux British and pretentious.
“I’ve gotta get new clothes for the test shoot, and get my hair and makeup done, too,” Kamille was prattling on. “Do you think Mom’ll lend me the money? Or I could just put it on my credit cards. I think? Models get paid a ton, right? I should be able to pay off the balance in like a month or two, tops. Or maybe I should—”
“Kam!” Kass pressed her fingers against her temple. “Sweetie, slow down. Look, I have to run to the library. Can we talk later? What are you doing tonight?”
There was a long silence. “Wellll . . . I was supposed to have dinner with Finn. But he just texted me and said he had to reschedule ’cause something came up, blah, blah, blah.” Kamille didn’t sound happy.
Kass sensed that there was more to this story than what Kamille was telling her. She’d have to get the scoop later. “Okay, well, great! So you’re free? You wanna meet back at the house? We can order in pizza and talk about what this Giles person is proposing, and make a pros and cons list for you.”
“A pros and cons list? What for?”
“Just trust me. You need to think these things through carefully. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Um, okay.”
“Love you, doll!”
“Love you, too, doll!”
Hanging up, Kass Googled “Giles Sinclair” and went through his website, twice. Okay, so he was for real.
She continued down the walk, suddenly in a foul mood. But why? She should be happy for Kamille, who had been discovered, for God’s sake. It was like something out of Hollywood legend, like actress Lana Turner being discovered at the Top Hat Café while skipping class and drinking a Coke. (So maybe skipping class did pay off sometimes?)
The problem was, amazing stuff always happened to Kamille, and she never had to lift a finger. Like in high school, when the drama teacher gave her a lead in Peter Pan, and she didn’t even have to audition. Kass, on the other hand, had to work like a dog—not just going to college but putting in long hours at the restaurant—and so far, she hadn’t hit the jackpot.
Of course, her efforts would surely pay off someday, and she would be wildly successful. And rich. She didn’t particularly care about the “rich” part, except that she had another, top-secret dream that she had never shared with anyone, not even Kamille, with whom she shared pretty much everything.
Her top-secret dream was to buy back their old house in Beverly Hills, if and when it went on the market again. Her father had bought it for the family when Kass was a baby. Her mother had to sell it after he died because she needed the money, plus she couldn’t afford the maintenance.
But someday, Kass was going to honor her father’s memory by taking it back. Plus, she missed that house desperately. Not because it was a big, fancy mansion—she was a practical person and not particularly interested in luxuries. But that house on Mulholland Drive was the Romero home. It was meant to be in the Romero family, now and forever.
Kass felt someone tapping her shoulder. She turned and saw a familiar-looking guy. A familiar-looking, very cute guy.
“Um, hey,” the guy said, smiling shyly. “You dropped this.”
“Dropped what?”
The guy held out her econ notebook.
Kass was momentarily rattled. She never lost track of anything, ever. How did she manage to drop her incredibly important econ notes?
“Thanks,” she said, flustered. “Where did you—”
“Oh, just outside Marshall. You were on the phone. Quiz was a bitch, wasn’t it?”
“What quiz?”
The guy looked amused. “Econ. I sit a couple of rows over from you. Professor Mueller was wearing his Elvis Costello glasses today.”
Kass laughed. “Yeah, I think he thinks they make him look really cool. Or something.”
The guy held out his hand. “I’m Eduardo, by the way.”
“Kassidy. Everyone calls me Kass.”
“Nice to meet you, Kass. Hey, you wanna grab a coffee? We could go over those Supreme Court decisions he mentioned. I’m sensing another pop quiz on Monday.”
Kass regarded Eduardo. He seemed nice. And smart. And definitely cute. But she really did have to get to the library to . . . what was she doing there, again? Oh, yeah, checking out some books on globalization. Which could wait. But her day was so jam-packed already. If she postponed the library errand, when would she be able to squeeze it in? She had her Spanish class in an hour, then her small-business management study group, then a private screening of a new Kathryn Bigelow movie at the film school, then a brief stop at the restaurant to go over some paperwork, then her girls’ night in with Kamille . . .
Eduardo was staring at her with his really adorable dark brown eyes. Why the hell not? Kass thought, and was about to say yes to the coffee when she changed her mind. Again.
“I’d love to, but I have like a million things to do,” she said finally.
“No problem. Maybe another time. See you in class on Monday.” He smiled and walked away.
As Kass watched him go, she felt a pang of regret. But the feeling was temporary. A second later, she was already thinking about those globalization books.