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Blue Moon 7.4

by Donna Lamb

Richard didn't hand her the manila envelope until they were in the limo on the way to the airport. "You f-found a bunch of these in the studio?" Jo asked.

"Yup, a whole file cabinet drawer full of them."

Jo put her big oversize purse in the floor and opened the envelope in her lap, pulling out about fifteen large photos. "Glossies," she said.

"Color glossies, mostly," added Richard.

The first three were headshots, one of Jo, or rather Melody, wearing the golden blonde wig she had just put on up in her room. One of the others showed her in the long red haired wig and the third showed her natural ginger-colored hair in a soft-textured tousle a bit shorter than the blonde wig. She had on makeup and jewelry in all of them and a big wide smile.

The next six showed her in an evening gown, a tennis skirt, a business suit, a sundress, a cheerleader outfit and a stage costume with a guitar, in various wigs and with her natural hair. "I m-must b-be a m-m-model," she said. In the next three she wore swimsuits, one a barely-there string bikini and in the last three she modeled lingerie. "Oh," she said quietly.

"I burned the nude ones," said Richard.

She looked at him and decided he was joking because he had such a completely serious expression. "M-moose chips, Richard," she said. "Why did you tell me these were sheet m-music at first?"

"Well, I did find lots of sheet music but I made you wait till we were in the car to look at these because you would have wanted to look at a lot more and there was lots of stuff in there and we didn't have the time."

"Okay, but I can tell when you're lying, you know." She tried to look smug.

"Oh? You never could before. What is it, feminine intuition?" Richard grinned and semaphored with his eyebrows.

"No. It's easier than that. When you lie your lips m-move." Jo kept a straight face and looked as serious as a doctor prescribing bed rest and daily enemas. Then she sudden grinned.

Richard laughed. "I should have been a politician, you're saying?"

"No, thank you. Already got one of those in m-my life." She shuddered, thinking of Barry Aronhaus's kiss. And then how she had kissed Richard in retaliation. And how she'd like to try that again. Just to see. If.... She tried to stop thinking of it.

"So," said Richard, helping without knowing it. "This Harmon guy has these pics of you, is he with a modeling agency?"

"I kind of hope so."

"Well, he might handle musical talent, I suppose, but the only photo of you with an instrument, it's a guitar. And you don't play the guitar regular."

Jo knew what he meant. She looked at her hands. "I've got short nails b-but no guitar calluses."

"Uh huh. So why would you pose with a guitar? Do you even play one?"

"I used to be able to strum a few chords. I wish we had had time to check that guy out on the 'net. I've got this terrible f-f-feeling what he does."

"What?" asked Richard.

"If it's not m-modeling then the only other thing that f-fits."

"Oh, shit," said Richard, realizing.

Jo nodded. "Escort service." She shivered but one part of her wondered, what would that be like?

* * *

They didn't say much else on the trip to the Burbank airport, and Richard slipped into the line of waiting limos with only a nod at the security guard. The poor man probably strained his neck doing a double take when he spotted Melody in the shotgun seat. She smiled and waved at him with just her fingers. The older man beamed and waved back.

"Are you flirting with Nacho the guard?" asked Richard.

"No," said Jo, "just being friendly."

"Uh huh, sure," Richard said.

Jo grinned at him. "Jealous?"

"Uh? I dunno. Maybe. I mean...." He trailed off, unable to think of a way to keep it light and funny. Something painful had pinged inside him. "He's old enough to be your grandfather," he finished.

"You are jealous," said Jo. "How 'b-bout that?" She giggled.

"Not of Nacho," said Richard. "But I...." He stopped himself, popped the trunk and got out to put the magnetic sign identifying his limo as "Paragon" on the roof. "Want the fare to be able to find us," he said as he got back in.

Neither of them said anything about what they had been talking about. At least, not out loud. They settled back in the seats and stared out at traffic and the lost-looking pedestrians one sees everywhere around airports.

Richard wondered, I can't be feeling serious about my old roomie just because he's now a gorgeousity. That's Joel, the guy who gets obsessive about which way the toilet paper turns on the roll. The one who got me a pigtail electric extension cord for my birthday. Okay, I needed that for the rotary drill I was using to polish the limo but that is a supergeeky birthday present.

He glanced sideways at her. She had a fingertip in her mouth, not chewing on her nail, just -- is she sucking on her finger? Jeez! Does she know what that does to a guy to watch that? What the heck is she thinking about?

Jo stared out the limo's windshield, not really seeing anything. This is the new me, she thought. Melody Jo Thierry, rich, spoiled, and -- beautiful. That's not ego, I know what I look like now. But who am I? What do I want to do with my life? She put a finger in her mouth, nibbling gently on the pad, not the cuticle. It was a gesture teachers and schoolmates had broken Joel of back in junior high but Melody Jo had continued to get away with it for years because she looked so darn cute with a finger in her mouth.

Richard is watching me, she realized. She stopped nibbling on her finger and just sucked on it a moment, thinking. What am I going to do with Richard? I know what my body wants to do -- and I'm starting to feel a lot less gay about it. I'm a girl, why shouldn't I jump his bone? Bones. She blushed.

She knows I'm watching, thought Richard, seeing her blush.

He knows I know he's watching, thought Jo.

Now what do we do?

The tap on the roof of the limo caught them both by surprise.