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Blue Moon 6.3

by Donna Lamb

"There's food in the fridge, I guess you've been living here," said Richard, holding the door open. "Salad stuff, Diet Coke, a cold roasted chicken from Von's, fruit yogurt, skim milk." He made a face. No beer, though the liquor cabinet in the dining room held single malt, premium vodka and various liqueurs and the wine cellar downstairs had several expensive looking bottles.

He retrieved two Diet Cokes and opened them, taking one to where Jo stood at the bottom of the stairs to the third floor. He handed her one of the cans and sipped his while she took a sizable gulp of hers. "You underage?" he asked.

She shrugged. "That graduation p-picture, the date was only two years ago. I thought about that." She frowned. "When I w-was six, when Joel was six, M-mom went to the hospital and the next week we b-buried a b-baby, a sister. I'd f-forgotten all about that."

"Wow?" He sipped at his drink some more, considering. "You think you're that sister now? Got raised by this Thierry couple, mixup in the hospital or something?"

She nodded. "It w-would make some sense. Mom must know? I think I'm nineteen then, maybe twenty. Or M-melody was. Do I look nineteen?" She turned to him self-consciously.

He nodded, smiling. "Or sixteen or twenty-five, you got classic bones, kid." He grinned. "And you're stalling cause you don't want to go up and see your bedroom."

She sighed. "M-m-melody's b-bedroom." But she started up the stairs. "I still can't f-figure out how this could happen. And I don't think it has anything to do with w-w-wishes, that's just stupid."

"Yeah? So what do you think happened?"

Jo stopped, turned and looked down at Richard, catching him looking up at her legs. She yanked at the hem of her skirt. "Remind me to let you go up stairs f-first from now on."

"Check," said Richard. He didn't seem embarrassed at all. I'm really starting to think of her as Joel's sister, I guess. She's sure not Joel anymore. "So you have a theory?"

She nodded, standing aside on the stair and motioning Richard to go ahead of her. "P-p-parallel w-worlds," she said. But Richard brushing past her on the stairwell made her feel strange, and then music began playing upstairs. "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody" by Irving Berlin played on a very tinny sounding piano. It took them both a moment to realize it must be a cellphone.

Richard scrambled on up, opening the first door on the right at the top of the stairs. Jo followed him into the bedroom of a teen-age girl just turning into a woman. Eight stuffed animals crowded the large bed -- everything from an aardvark to a zebra, literally -- surrounding a big straw purse and matching hat. The ringing came from the purse. Richard retrieved it and handed it to Jo. A little woven pocket just inside the bag held a tiny pink phone.

Jo flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Is this Melody Thierry?" asked a male voice.

"W-who's calling?" Jo asked. Who knows me? Knows Melody? Someone from those pictures downstairs?

"Smart girl," said the voice. "This is Tom K. Harmon. I found a packet on my desk with a note to call Melody Thierry at this number."

"Uh," said Jo. "I'm M-melody Jo Thierry." She rolled her eyes as Richard grinned at her. Well, I am, apparently.

"I've got your glossies here but your resume is kind of thin. What's your natural hair color? Strawberry blond?"

"Sort of, darker though, m-more like ginger. Um, you're an agent?" Glossies? Pictures? At first, I thought he said glasses, and I do need to look for them. But the man on the phone went on.

"Oh, yeah, sugar. I'm not sure I need any more clients right now but you've got a good look in the photos. Camera likes you. Jeff Sherman took the pictures?"

"That's what it says, isn't it?" Jo guessed, trying not to sound smart ass about it. I don't know? Jeff Sherman? She thought she might have heard of him, somewhere.

"Sure, hey, look, can you get over here today? We could do lunch? Ha, ha. I could look you over, you look me over, decide if we want to do business." He sounded sincere -- and interested. Jo began to form a mental image of the man, tall, with a dark, brown mustache, receding hairline, Ray-Bans. Middle-aged but kind of -- cute? She tried to shake the image -- and the thought -- as soon as it occurred to her.

Richard began to get antsy hearing only half the conversation. He looked around the room, taking in the poster of Orlando Bloom as Legolas with a grin. An L-shaped desk in one corner held a computer and accessories. A corner -shaped glass-cabinet held various dolls and battered looking old stuffed toy animals. A long vanity had three wigstands near one end with a shoulder-length golden blond wig, a page boy platinum and an extravagantly long auburn. The blond wig looked like natural hair. The top of the vanity held the usual feminine weapons.

Jo bit her lip, making a decision. "Okay, M-mister Harmon. Uh? Three o'clock?" She looked at Richard who nodded; she frowned, he frowned and shook his head and raised his eyebrows. She nodded firmly. "Okay, uh, Tom -- and I usually go b-by Jo. Uh-huh. Thanks." She closed the phone and stared at it.

"You made an appointment to see an agent?" Richard asked.

"He called me!" Jo ran a hand through her hair, wondering what the glossies Tom had showed. My hair is so short.

"What kind of agent?"

Jo startled. "I didn't think to ask, but I guess, uh, m-modeling?" She waved a hand. "He had glossies and, and, I don't think acting. I m-mean, to b-b-be or not to b-b-be?" She shook her head. "Do you think I could do m-m-modeling? That's just standing around, uh, looking p-pretty." She blushed but she did know what she looked like.

Richard tried to be thoughtful and not smile at her naivete."Almost any kind of agent needs glossies. How far are you prepared to go with this? I mean," he waved a hand, "this house? I think you're not hurting for money? Do you need a job?"

"I don't know," said Jo. "But that's what I was talking about on the stair. M-melody and I have switched p-places, like universes in stereo?" Richard looked blank so she tried the other phrase. "P-p-parallel w-worlds. I can't just go m-messing up her life. W-what if w-we switched b-back?"

"You think that's gonna happen?" Richard sounded skeptical.

"I don't know. B-but it m-might. I think it could? It happened once, why not again?" She waved the hand holding the phone; it rang just then, startling her into dropping it. With a bump and a bounce, it clattered under the bed. Jo put a hand to her mouth and squeaked.