Meg was starting to feel like she was getting into a groove in Los Angeles. She'd found a few local cafés where she could work on her design portfolio and had even made a couple of acquaintances who didn't immediately treat her like the punchline of a joke. Things were looking up. That is, until one fateful Tuesday afternoon.

She was at a small coffee shop, sipping on her iced chai latte and pretending to look busy with her laptop, when her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with an unfamiliar number.

"Ugh, who is it now?" she muttered to herself, expecting another spam call. But something about the number caught her attention—it was from a 310 area code. That meant LA. Curiosity piqued, she picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Meg Griffin?" the voice on the other end asked, upbeat and chipper.

"Yeah, this is Meg," she replied, slightly confused. "Who's this?"

"Hi, Meg! My name is Lacey. I'm a talent scout with the VIP Modeling Agency, and we'd love to talk to you about a potential opportunity. How are you today?"

Meg blinked. Modeling? Me? She glanced at her reflection in the coffee shop window, half-expecting someone else to be standing behind her. But nope. It was just the same awkward, frizzy-haired Meg Griffin she had always known.

"Uh, modeling? Are you sure you've got the right person?"

Lacey laughed. "Absolutely! We've been looking for someone with your… unique look. And let me tell you, we are very interested in bringing you on board. You've got a real 'girl next door' vibe that's in high demand right now."

Meg's brain was still processing this. "Okay… but just to clarify, I'm not like a professional model or anything. I'm just here trying to make it as a graphic designer."

"Oh, I know, sweetie. But that's the thing! In LA, everyone is a model in some way. You don't have to be Gisele Bündchen. You just need the right look, and trust me, you've got it. So, how about we get you in for a shoot tomorrow? It'll be super low-key. Think 'urban chic meets casual brunch.'"

Meg was about to protest when the words "casual brunch" hit her brain like a bolt of lightning. Urban chic? Casual brunch? That sounded oddly familiar—like the kind of thing she could pull off. Plus, who didn't want to be part of a fashion shoot?

"Okay, um… sure," Meg said, still unsure how she got roped into this, but rolling with it. "When should I be there?"

Lacey rattled off the details. "Great! We'll see you tomorrow at noon. Just wear something simple but trendy. Maybe jeans and a cute top. Don't overthink it. You'll be fabulous, trust me. We'll send over the address. Oh, and one last thing—don't forget to bring your confidence. You've got this, Meg!"

"Right," Meg muttered, her brain spinning. "I'll bring my confidence... whatever that means."

After hanging up, Meg sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, looking at her phone like it might bite her. She glanced around the coffee shop. A model? Her? The girl who had been mocked for her awkwardness her entire life? The girl who couldn't even figure out how to wear a leather jacket without looking like she was auditioning for a role in a 90s sitcom?

But here she was, about to step into the world of modeling.

"Maybe I just have the right 'quirky' look," she muttered to herself, only half joking.

Still, it didn't hurt to check it out. If anything, it'd make for a great story to tell her family, especially after Quagmire had been so adamant that she'd make it big. Who knew? Maybe this was her big break.

The next day, she dressed as casually chic as possible—jeans, a simple but cute top, and some sneakers she thought were trendy enough. As she looked in the mirror, she had to admit that the Meg staring back at her didn't look half-bad. Maybe it was all the caffeine from her multiple lattes or the fact that she had recently managed to tame her wild hair, but she was feeling a little... confident? Yeah, let's go with that.

When she arrived at the studio, she felt like a complete fish out of water. The place was filled with professional models who all looked impossibly stylish. They seemed to glide around in their high heels, sipping cold-pressed juices and chatting about exclusive LA events Meg had never heard of. Meanwhile, she was trying not to trip on the first step into the building.

A guy who looked like he should have been in a boy band (and who had a very questionable man bun) greeted her.

"Hey, you must be Meg!" he said with a wide grin, extending his hand. "I'm Kyle, your photographer for today. We're so excited to have you here!"

"Uh… thanks," Meg said, shaking his hand. She was still processing the fact that someone actually wanted to take pictures of her.

"Okay, we're gonna do a few test shots, just to get you comfortable," Kyle said, directing her to a set. "It's gonna be super easy. Just... be natural. Think of it like you're hanging out at brunch with your friends—chilled, but fabulous."

Meg nodded, her mind racing. "Brunch... right. Got it."

As Kyle snapped pictures, Meg tried to look like she was having fun, which was easier said than done. She wasn't sure what "natural" even meant in front of a camera, so she settled for pretending like she wasn't internally screaming.

At one point, Kyle asked her to do a "smoldering" look.

"Smoldering?" Meg blinked. "Like, like I'm mad at someone?"

"Exactly! Show me that you just got a text from your ex that says he misses you... but you're too cool to care."

Meg didn't even know what that meant, but she tried it anyway. She half-squinted, trying to channel some mysterious emotion. All she could think of was the time Stewie had gotten into her makeup bag and drawn a line down her cheek, telling her it was her "badass model look."

"Perfect!" Kyle exclaimed. "That's it! You nailed it!"

Meg couldn't help but laugh. "I look like I'm having an allergic reaction."

"Well, that's the vibe! Just go with it."

When the shoot was over, Meg felt... strange. Exhausted, confused, but somehow more confident than she had when she walked in. She was handed a few photos to look at, and to her surprise, she didn't look terrible. In fact, she kind of looked like a model. It was the weirdest thing.

"You did great, Meg," Kyle said with a thumbs up. "I think you've got what it takes. You'll hear from us soon."

As Meg left the studio, she couldn't believe what had just happened. A model? Me? It was insane. But who knew? Maybe she was cut out for this bizarre world of fashion after all.

And maybe, just maybe, Quagmire had been onto something after all. Giggity.