Jodi moaned before unceremoniously rolling out of bed. As she rested on the floor in a crumpled mess of sheets and limbs, she imagined disapproval contorting the jowls of her mother's face. A lady is a lady, in the bedroom or out. She snorted at the memory of her mother's words and buried her head beneath the sheets. She didn't believe for one moment that any woman behaved very primly in their bed. Jodi let out a small sigh. Not that she would know.
Jodi gathered herself after a few more minutes of contemplative self-deprecation. With another blow to her mother's standards, she yanked off her slip and threw it across her small, yet cozily furnished room. The silky fabric landed lightly on the modest chair that sat next to her mirror, which she made her way toward once she adjusted to the bright light shining through her window.
She gazed into her own eyes as she examined the reflection before her. They were dark—much like the rest of her tired features. She groggily ran her fingers down a petite nose and rosy, thin lips in an attempt to restore some energy within her. A lone finger sprung a heavy, chocolate-colored curl. If there was anything she was proud of, it would be her glorious, full head of hair. She thought of her balding father and silently counted her blessings.
Jodi turned from the mirror and hobbled slowly toward her bureau, in which she hoped to discover something suitable for the daunting day ahead. She opened the wooden door and began to file through the long row of quaint dresses. Settling for a colorful, yet smart number, she pulled the smooth fabric over her head and down her short, pale body. She smoothed the skirt of her dress just above her gratuitous hips (all the better for conceiving, her mother would always say), and released an exasperated sigh. No matter how much longer her morning routine would last, she knew that she would, in two hours, inevitably face her fear.
Her family frequently told her how pretty she was. She was never very convinced of it—eighteen years old, and she hasn't even had so much as a peck on the cheek. Despite this, however, her sister practically shoved this "life-changing opportunity" down her throat, and made it clear that she would never forgive her if she had not at least given it a try.
Jodi returned to the mirror once more and pressed a sweet magenta-colored stick against her lips. She knew she wasn't a poster girl—those beautiful, rosy-cheeked women you would always see in magazines and on the television. She was just some child of a girl who lived in a three-room apartment, depending on the money of her parents until she could find a man crazy enough to take their place. She grimaced as the pink makeup smudged on the corner of her mouth. She was no Marilyn.
Then why was she auditioning for what she was certain was an unattainable, excessively glamorous job? Well, she could absolutely no longer stand her sister's incessant nagging. If she were to get it over with, go home, and rub her failure in her sister's face, perhaps she would finally shut her large, irritating mouth. She paused for a moment, wiping the excess lipstick with a tissue. Unlikely.
After Jodi formally completed her morning routine, which consisted of brushing her hair, feeding her plump Tabby, and finding a pair of shoes that wouldn't render her immobile, she set out down the steps leading towards the bottom of her apartment building. Despite her modest view on her living situation, she really didn't mind her small abode. It was cozy, undoubtedly warm, and the neighborhood could have been much, much worse. On top of that, it gave her the illusion independence. After eighteen years of being smothered relentlessly by her parents, a place of her own gave her the fresh, empowering breath of air that she so desperately needed. Never mind the fact that she wasn't paying for it—she would face one issue at a time. However, if some sort of miracle was to occur, and she did manage to get the job, she would have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.
Jodi stood on the side of the busy street and gestured prettily as cabs whizzed by. She knew, after all, that the most helpless looking of girls were always picked up first. She suspected it made the drivers feel like heroes, whisking their damsels off of their feet and taking them wherever they pleased. Surely enough, after two minutes passed, one of the faded yellow vehicles slowed to a stop beside her, and she stepped inside.
"Where to, miss?" the cabdriver asked, turning in his seat and giving her what she perceived to be a flirtatious grin. He looked like he was in his 50's, with a strong five o'clock shadow and hair creeping out of his ears. She gave him a forced smile.
"Do you know where Sterling Cooper is?" she asked him, her heart suddenly dropping. She had forgotten to find out where the building was actually located, in her haze of indifference and indignation.
He chuckled. "Oh, yeah, I take them secretaries there sometimes. Pretty young things—are you gonna work for them? You'd definitely fit in." He started driving, and she saw him leer slightly through his front mirror. She felt a small surge of discomfort, but dismissed it almost immediately.
"No, actually… I'm going to be auditioning for a role in one of their advertisements. A magazine page, I think. I didn't want to do it, but my sister practically forced me." She wondered why she was giving this additional information to this disheveled piece of a man, but she had always felt like it was impolite to be curt in conversation, regardless of who you were talking to.
"Coca-Cola or something?" he laughed. Jodi paused. She hadn't even inquired what the ad was actually selling.
"…I'm not sure, actually. I suppose I'll just have to work with whatever they throw at me." She groaned internally. She was surely bound for humiliation. What if she were supposed to be the cover girl for laxatives, or, even worse, the perky brazier mascot? She blushed heatedly at the thought. She had to manage her pessimism, or else she would simply not be able to make it through the day.
"Well, good luck," he said as he made an alarmingly sharp turn.
The last ten minutes of the cab ride were completely silent. She liked it this way—not having to feel like she had to entertain the driver with feigned smiles and bright eyes. It was just her, her thoughts, and the therapeutic motion of the car beneath her. She looked out the window, and let out a quiet moan as it began to rain. Now she was going to be the soaking wet laxative girl.
She thanked and paid the cab driver after the vehicle had stopped next to a large, intimidating building. With a deep breath, she opened the worn-down door and prepared herself for the unfriendly downpour of water that would inevitably ruin her day. Once she braced herself and stepped out of the car, however, she didn't feel the unpleasant, cold sensation of moisture against her hair, nor the agony of a water-marked dress.
"You weren't expecting rain?" the man asked, standing close to her enough to cover the both of them with a dark umbrella. His eyes were bright blue, childlike—not unlike the rest of his features. He wore a clean, professionally navy suit, and his shoes were polished and expensive-looking. He must be one of them.
"Oh, no…" she smiled bashfully. "I've been so distracted—I didn't even remember that weather existed." She kicked herself internally, and very hard. She knew she wasn't unintelligent, but she very well knew that she often sounded like it. His expression turned from slightly perplexed to amused.
"Well, let me take you inside. You must be auditioning for something, right?" he began to walk, and she kept up her pace with him, careful not to let the rain seize her dry skin.
"Yeah, I am… although, um, this is embarrassing, but…" she looked away. She wasn't used to the attention from young men, and she was certain she was going to make herself look like even more of a fool than she already was. She began to talk quickly, hoping that she could lessen the humiliation by speedily explaining her circumstances "What exactly am I auditioning for? I mean, I know that sounds silly, but I didn't actually want to do this. My sister put me up to it, and I really didn't think about it beforehand because I was completely irritated with the idea until I finally decided to give it a try just to prove her that I could, and, you know, I don't expect to get chosen, considering that I have no experience in absolutely anything and can't smile on command to save my life, which I think would actually be quite useful for this sort of jo-" he cut her off, and her cheeks instantly turned pink.
"It's for Playtex" he said nonchalantly as they ascended the steps the building's double doors. She felt a deep, dark dread expand inside of her chest as he shook off the wet umbrella. He stopped in his tracks, and his fingers curled around the handle to the large, glass door. "And that's some mouth you got there." He turned to her, his eyes dropping down to appraise her lips. She questioned whether if he was really referring to her frightening speech habits.