It's okay, Betty
It's okay, Betty.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
After her meeting with Alexis, Betty was at a loss for words.
If she did this article, it would probably be as big a deal as Alexis pitched it to be. Alexis said that it could truly reach women – all women – of all shapes and sizes.
Naturally. Betty couldn't just be any old freelance reporter; she had to be the girl that fit into the "All Shapes and Sizes" category.
She looked once more at the advertiser's pitch.
Seeking out a young female freelance writer with an unconventional sense of style and charisma for a 3-day "Skin Deep" experiment. How does exposing more skin – even in the most modest amounts – enable a woman to feel differently about herself? How does the use of our skin products alongside this change affect a woman's self-esteem and perception of her own beauty? We want answers – good or bad. We're pitching our products to real women and we need a real woman to tell it like it is.
Primarily, Betty couldn't help but feel that this was a little…one sided. Suppose she didn't feel comfortable using a certain moisturizer or wearing a particular outfit – how could she objectively say that without getting the advertisers angry?
Alexis said that was fine; good publicity, bad publicity – it was all publicity, and because Betty was never a fashion connoisseur in the first place, it wouldn't hurt the advertisers. If anything, they could just change the tone of the article to reveal that the products are perfect for a more intimate, self sufficient setting and that the confidence brought on by them is not something that needs to be shared.
Then she thought more.
She would be selling her soul to do this.
She knew herself, and she didn't show skin. The world wasn't exactly ready for that yet. They could barely stomach her in the modest outfits she already wore. Besides, she had so many more important things going for her – intelligence, morals, self respect…
Alexis said Betty didn't have to do a complete makeover or change anything about herself, except for the fact that she would have to use the skin care products and display their results with a comfortable amount of skin exposure; spaghetti straps, V-necks, tank tops – simple stuff.
Sure.
Simple.
When you had a figure like Alexis did, that was all very simple.
Alexis said she had to stop thinking about it as an opportunity to sell her soul and try considering this – Betty represented the average American figure. Millions of girls like her have longed to try different styles and felt that they couldn't because girls like them weren't represented in popular culture. This was a chance for her to be a face behind their desires and hopes, a safe haven for their collective longing to try styles that may be a little riskier for them.
No pressure.
No matter what Alexis fed her, it amounted to the same thing.
Basically, she would have to strut around in skimpier tops and skin bearing outfits she didn't even get to choose to help a skin cream company get publicity.
She may as well have had the word "farce" tattooed to her forehead.
Alexis must have read her mind, because she told her that this is the problem with women – they see the use of beauty products and attempts to feel sexier as "selling out", as though they can't hold on to their moral fiber and still look attractive. She said this could be an eye opening experience; a way to get many girls to identify with her and recognize her name. It could open so many doors for her as a writer.
That was one way to put it.
Opportunities or not, there was one thing lingering in Betty's mind that she couldn't escape.
She tried wearing a tank top once in her life – ninth grade. It was fire red; her mom had picked it out for her and said she looked beautiful in it. She proudly wore it to school, and her new look earned her a nickname.
Plump Tomato.
Alexis said that this only made the opportunity more appealing. There were more "plump tomatoes" than skinny models in the world, anyway, and those girls needed to know that they didn't have to run scared from anyone's derogatory remarks.
She was probably right.
In truth, the assignment wasn't all that ridiculous. She was given 3 shirts to wear and advised to match them with jeans, slacks or skirts. Then, while wearing them, she had to document her experience and take a few photographs with Jo Stern, a company photographer. She didn't have to change her look otherwise; she didn't need to wear excessive make up, sit with a stylist, or quit her job and pretend to be a plus size model. She just needed to show a little more skin. Her skin.
In truth, the shirts were kind of pretty. One was a black halter top with embroidery around the neckline (which seemed a bit low), the second was a bright pink halter top, and the third was a deep red, corset-style spaghetti strap top.
Not too bad.
The last thing she needed, however, was for Daniel to see them, so she arranged to leave them in Alexis's office until the end of the day.
And then…that would be it. She was doomed.
The guys at Player Magazine gave her enough trouble already; so much so that she missed Amanda terribly on a daily basis, and that was saying something.
What would they say…how would they treat her…if she came in looking even more different than she already did?
No.
Betty told herself to forget this.
This was a big assignment – one that had the ability to truly affect women. This couldn't be taken lightly; it was her chance to use her craft to change the way women felt. She had to take this opportunity.
She had to…
Betty was unusually quiet. It troubled Daniel more than he could have imagined.
She seemed to have lost the gung-ho attitude that she demonstrated before. This assignment must have been challenging.
Hopefully not too challenging.
He saw her at her desk, typing madly and avoiding his gaze. She had that expression on her face, that I'm hiding something and doing a horrible job at it expression.
What was Alexis going to have her do?
Sure – Betty couldn't say. Well, she couldn't say much. Betty was horrible at keeping secrets when she knew someone was on to her. He'd get it out of her.
He was about to do just that when she knocked on his office door.
"Daniel, the photographer you wanted for next month's issue is here."
Ah…Joe Stern, quite possibly the guy with the keenest eye for women around. He had glanced at Joe's portfolio and couldn't imagine how this guy had managed to take such beautiful, provocative shots of all of the women featured in them. He captured every alluring quality and each luscious curve.
"Great, Betty! Show him in."
Oh, no.
Betty's other expression.
The "Daniel, you've got the brains of my toenail" glare of disappointment.
"Show him in?"
What did she mean by that?
"Yeah…Joe Stern…"
"Jo Stern… short for Josephine Stern!" Betty corrected.
A woman photographed women that well?
A woman photographed women…that well?
"Josephine?" he asked, trying not to show his confusion. Evidently he failed, for Betty rolled her eyes.
"God, Daniel, I only told you about her twenty times!"
"Alright, alright, just send her in," Daniel muttered. Betty strutted out disapprovingly, doing what Daniel imagined was contemplating how much of a moron he actually was.
A woman.
Photographing other women.
It would be very difficult for Daniel to make it out of this meeting in one piece. How was he supposed to stay professional when an image like that crossed his mind?
And then she came in…
Daniel was amazed, because he'd never been attracted to a woman like this before, but couldn't help it. She was curvy, with thick, full hips, hugged by a tight black skirt. She wore a red blouse, which was buttoned down low enough to see generous amounts of ample cleavage.
Trying not to be completely unprofessional, Daniel struggled to look at her face.
She had piercing sky blue eyes that struck Daniel immediately, long, chestnut brown hair that fell in spiral curls around her face, and a perfect, white, sparkling smile.
"Hello Mr. Meade," she greeted, extending her hand for him to shake.
"Pleased to meet you Ms. Stern," Daniel replied, taking her hand and softly shaking it, continuing his struggle to focus on her eyes.
"So, your assistant tells me you've seen my portfolio shots."
"Oh, yes," Daniel said, trying desperately to keep his eyes away from the opening in her shirt. "It was wonderful work. I was definitely impressed."
Jo gave him a look not much different from Betty's and giggled.
"You thought I was a guy, didn't you?"
"No," Daniel lied, his eyes meeting hers, which looked as skeptical as they were beautiful. He shook his head, smiling as well. "Well, okay, I sort of had the impression that you were."
"Good! That's what I was going for!" Joe replied. "That's why I go by Jo; gets people to be less intimidated to call back."
"People were intimidated?" Daniel asked, as though he himself never was.
"Oh, yeah. That, or they think about a woman taking underwear and swimsuit photos of other women and get overexcited. But, of course, you wouldn't know about that."
She grinned at him.
A malicious, sexy, irresistible grin.
Well, two could play at this game.
"Not at all," Daniel said as smoothly as possible.
"Well, in any case, my agent sent over all of my required fees. If you're fine with what I sent you and are willing to meet my required costs, I'm willing to discuss concepts."
"Absolutely," Daniel replied, although he couldn't remember exactly what those fees were. It didn't matter; he just needed to work with a woman like this.
"Good!" Jo continued. "Now, what was the theme you were going for?"
Great.
How was he supposed to describe this to a woman without sounding like a total pig?
"Okay," he stuttered. "Well, the idea…the concept was…I mean, it's all…"
"Mr. Meade, it's okay," Jo assured him. "You've seen my photos and I'm sure you can tell that it takes quite a bit to make me blush."
Perfection.
Cool it, Daniel.
"Well, okay," Daniel said. "For the fall issue, we wanted to do a harvest time spread."
"Oh, I see," Jo enthusiastically responded. "You want to do a metaphor where women are the wheat or the gourds…sort of like a cornucopia?"
"Yes!" Daniel said.
"Okay, I can do that. In fact, it could really work. Pumpkins are round and shapely. A world of innuendos is possible."
"Yes…round and shapely is…"
Daniel observed Jo raising her eyebrows and bit his tongue.
Damn.
Thin girls hated fat innuendos. What would a shapely woman like Jo think of them?
"…great!"
"Good. Now, I'll just have to have a good assortment of models; really capture the female form for all tastes in men."
Daniel certainly wanted to capture her female form…every last curve in it.
"Okay, will do."
"So, when can we arrange to meet with the models and discuss the concept in more detail?"
"Well," Daniel coyly replied. "If you'd be interested in discussing concepts or anything else over, say, dinner…"
She laughed.
Nobody ever laughed when he asked them out.
Thinner women. Models. Internationally recognized faces. They didn't laugh.
"Mr. Meade, with all due respect, I take my work very seriously and, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be the editorial for Player's next issue. Let's just keep this strictly business."
He was turned down.
He was turned down by the most unconventionally appealing woman he'd ever hit on.
"Sounds fair," he said, extending his hand. She very cordially shook it, her blue eyes still sparkling.
"Now that that's settled," she continued, "It'll actually be really easy to get in touch with you because Ms. Meade just assigned me to work on that big skin product article with your assistant, Miss Suarez."
Betty.
He'd forgotten about that.
Wait a minute…
Jo took provocative photos.
She was doing a skin product article.
Betty?
Skin?
Provocative?
No.
NO.
NO!
"W-what?"
"Oh…crap, I didn't know you weren't in on it. Look, let's just forget I said anything."
Forget?
Forget that Alexis was about to make Betty even more the laughingstock of Made enterprises than she already was?
Betty didn't do provocative…or show skin!
But then again…
…Jo had slipped.
If Alexis knew Jo wasn't trustworthy, they couldn't continue to hire her at Meade, could they?
And if Daniel were to negotiate a way to conceal her carelessness, he could help to get closer to Betty's assignment…and closer to Jo in the meantime.
"Well, Alexis won't be too pleased you slipped."
"I really don't think it's that big a deal," Jo responded, looking cooler about it than Daniel would have hoped. He was used to Betty's perfectionist and neurotic nature; this was completely new.
"Not yet. But…if you have dinner with me…"
"Ah, I see," Jo sighed, turning her blue eyes to the ceiling. "I mean, really, Mr. Meade –"
"Daniel…"
"Mr. Meade…are you that desperate to take me out?"
"I wouldn't call it desperate," Daniel replied, trying to catch her eye again. "I'm just trying to look out for your best interests. I wouldn't want your slip to cause you problems here."
"Fine," she replied, smiling as though she arranged the whole thing. "Tomorrow at seven. Bertucci's."
Bertucci's.
Italian.
A woman who ate carbs.
It had been a while.
"Great."
She stood up, and as Daniel eagerly admired the rear view of her hourglass curves, she turned.
"Just as a warning, though," Jo said. "I'm sure you've deduced this already, but I eat. A lot. I don't know if most of your dates do that."
"That's just fine," Daniel said with a smile.
"Hm. I thought you'd be a bit overwhelmed."
"It takes a lot to make me blush," Daniel replied. She grinned at him and made her way out.
Daniel felt excitement, but that faded quickly when he looked at Betty.
She would never have agreed to this article. She was…Betty. She didn't have Jo's natural sex appeal or seductive way about her. She didn't take the kind of photos Jo was known for. It wasn't her.
If she showed skin, the guys would laugh at her even more than they already did.
He knew it.
He'd seen it happen once.
Her first week at Mode.
She was posing in a most unflattering outfit, a ploy to get her to quit that was entirely his fault. The thing was, back then, he didn't even look at her skin. At all.
He looked at her face.
Her eyes – those eager, peppy, vibrant eyes were clouded with hurt, anger and humiliation.
He never wanted to see her like that again. Not if he could help it.
He'd get closer to Jo; make her vulnerable to him – he could do that to women. Jo wasn't exactly stick thin either; she'd understand.
But first, he'd talk to Betty.
Trying his best to be casual, he strolled over to her, grinning.
"Well, Betty, it looks like he's going to dinner with me tomorrow," he said, nodding his head toward the elevator where Jo was getting on.
Betty paused, giving him the look of disgust. Again.
"Jo? Stern? She's…she's not your type, is she?"
"Well, let's see…she's beautiful, intelligent, funny and nice. Nope. I tend to go for ugly, boring and mean."
"You know what I mean, Daniel!" Betty persisted. "I mean…she's not just some girl you could pick up and woo! She's a great photographer and it would mean a lot to this company…"
"I know, and I will be nothing but respectful. I'm an uncle now, Betty. I've got to keep a low profile and a clean reputation."
Betty gave him a doubtful look and went back to her notes. Something about her doubt in him stung him a bit.
"You believe me, don't you?" Daniel asked, sitting on the edge of her desk. She looked up at him with one of her "I overreacted" lopsided grins.
"Yes, Daniel, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have overreacted. Just…don't get in over your head, okay? I mean, she's supposed to be a real power dynamo. After what happened with Sofia Reyes, I just...I don't want you to get hurt either you know?"
"I won't."
Touched as he was by her concern, Daniel couldn't help but cringe at the hypocrisy of it all.
Sure. Don't get in over your head. Easy for her, Ms. Skin Article, to say.
"Speaking of which," Daniel continued. "I hear that you'll be working with Jo as well. Skin cream, is it?"
Betty looked up, startled.
"She…said that?"
"Yes. Seems she's quite excited about it. By the way, have you seen her portfolio shots?"
Betty looked down, trying desperately to focus her attention on the letters on her keyboard.
"Yes," she quietly replied.
"And…well, after seeing what she does, you're willing to…"
"Whatever we're doing, Daniel, I can assure you it will be very…tasteful."
"It better be," Daniel muttered, before he even had a chance to think about the words catapulting out of his mouth.
Betty barely processed it herself.
"What?"
"I just don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with just to get your foot in the door, that's all."
"What?" Betty repeated louder, standing up. "Excuse me, but wasn't it you who told me that, to be a writer, I had to step out of my comfort zone?"
Oh crap.
She was right.
"Well, yeah, but…"
"Daniel, I appreciate your concern. I do. But for this story, I am not your assistant. I am a writer. An open-minded, eager, willing writer. Okay?"
No.
It was not okay.
The thought of her not being his assistant was most certainly not okay.
But it had to be.
For her.
"Okay."
"Good," she snapped. With that, she sat down and looked back at her emails. He was left to do nothing but return to his office.
She wasn't his assistant for this assignment.
But she was his friend.
He would do whatever he could to prevent this article from being printed, no matter how angry it would make her.