THE NEW GREEN CAFÉ
TABLE 18
Monday, September 28th
4:01 p.m.
Massie mounted her bamboo eco-chair and clapped twice. "Qui-eeeeet!"
Fifty-eight cheerleader-wannabes stopped gossiping at once.
"Good." Massie grinned, pleased that the glitter-dusted hopefuls honored Rule #1 of her audition contract—Obey What I Say.
The rest of the Pretty Committee sat on either side of her, American Idol style, pens and purple paper stacked neatly in front of them. They were wearing their cheerleader uniforms, which thanks to Massie's purple hairstreak, were designed and delivered by Stella McCartney in less than forty-eight hours. And because of Massie's explicit directions, looked nuh-thing like cheerleader uniforms.
Black sequined off-the-shoulder mini-dresses with The Socc-Hers spelled in gold-plated cleats were sure to be envied, even from the cheap seats. Underneath, they wore
black leather short-shorts, because no one wanted to stumble on a mid-flip crotch shot of themselves on the internet. And in keeping with the Tomahawks' American Indian theme, they wore knee-high metallic gold moccasins with festive bells dangling off the fringes. Butt-sweeping ponytail extensions took care of their hair. Mystic Tan and MAC took care of the rest.
The Massie-quin stood proud at the end of the judges table dressed in one of the three remaining uniforms.
"As I mentioned in my weekend email blast," Massie began, already feeling very captain-ish. "You will approach the table, recite your two-line cheer, and tell us in one word what you think you'd add to my squad."
An anxious murmur was building among the dense crowd. And Massie suddenly realized it would take hours to get through everyone. By then, Pinkberry would be closed, Bean would have peed her doggy Diesels, and Dempsey would be logged off for the night.
She lifted a finger, informing the wannabes that they had to take a minute.
"Change of plan," she whispered to the PC. "Each one of you gets to hand-pick one person to audition. The rest will have to go."
The girls opened their mouths in protest. Massie silenced them with a palm.
"Look for stocky ones who look like they could hold a lot of weight on their shoulders. The more they look like Chicken McNuggets the better. "
"McNuggetttttts," Dylan burped.
Massie elbowed her in the McRib. "Lady-behavior!" she hissed.
"I already told you," Alicia tugged her long ponytail in frustration. "Pyramids are out!"
Massie lifted her palm again. "TCHS."
"What?" Alicia snapped.
"The Captain Has Spoken."
Alicia rolled her eyes and sighed while Massie made a mental note to eliminate pyramids from her routine. Then she made a second mental note; convince everyone it was her idea.