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My God, it’s like I’ve actually stepped into The Twilight Zone. Where else would I actually get the chance to meet a woman named Gigi, for God’s sake?
“She’s our makeup artist and hair stylist. But there’s no use letting her work on you until we know what your clothing style is going to be.”
“Definitely wouldn’t want that.”
My tongue is firmly in my cheek at this point, but if she notices, Charlene doesn’t say anything—which makes me feel bad. Unlike Darla, who seemed annoyed by my very existence, Charlene actually seems really nice and like she actually wants to help, which means I should totally try to cooperate with her.
My resolve lasts all of two minutes—or until Charlene starts pulling teeny tiny bikinis in ice cream sherbet colors off the rack.
“What do you think of this one?” she says, holding up a bright, raspberry-colored one. “It would look great with your peaches-and-cream complexion.”
For long seconds, I just stare at her, trying to figure out if she’s joking or not. When she continues to look back at me, with a perfectly pleasant, perfectly innocuous look on her face, I finally figure out that she’s being serious. In which case, I don’t know what to object to first—the color or the lack of fabric.
Behind me, Luc coughs a little, then clears his throat. I’m not sure if he’s covering horror or amusement at the idea of seeing me in a bathing suit like that, but either way, it does nothing for my already failing confidence.
“Cam isn’t really a pink girl,” he says after he gets his coughing fit under control.
“That’s a shame, but okay.” She puts it back on the rack. “Do you like any of these colors?” She holds up the other five suits she had chosen.
“Maybe the lime-green one—” Luc starts to say.
“I think there’s been some mistake.” I cut him off before he can actually talk her into that dental floss masquerading as a bathing suit. “I’m a snowboarder, not a surfer. I wear snowboarding pants and jackets, not—”
I gesture to the bikinis.
“Oh, believe me, Cam, we know exactly who you are. But we’re doing the cover plus a whole fashion layout in the back—kind of like a winter getaway kind of thing. Escape the snow. You know what I mean?”
“Not really, no. All my winter getaways are to places where there is snow.”
“Of course, of course. But it turns out all those snowboarding clothes don’t make for very interesting pictures.”
“Z and Ash were in full gear every time they were on the cover. And so was Marc last month and Travis the month before.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?”
She sighs heavily, looks to Luc for help, which just pisses me off.
“He’s not the one on the cover. I am. So talk to me. And I’m sorry, Charlene, I really am. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I don’t get why you want me in a bathing suit on the cover of a snowboarding magazine.”
Luc chokes again and I turn around, shoot him a glare. He steps back, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Cam. Surely you know that having you in skimpy clothes is going to sell a lot of copies of this magazine.”
For a second, I’m sure that she’s kidding. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know how the world works. I know that a number of big female athletes have posed in bathing suits for magazines, but they’re different than I am. They’ve got great bodies that fill out the bikinis, not to mention a ton of sex appeal.
I don’t have either of those things. All I’ve got is crazy hair and a talent for barging mountains. And since they really don’t seem interested in what I can do on a snowboard, I don’t know what I can offer them.
“That’s not my thing.” I tell her. “I don’t—I can’t—”
“Sure you can. Why don’t you look through what we’ve got here—”
“No, really. I can’t do that. I’m not a model. No one wants to see me in a bikini. No one—”
“Of course they do, Cam. Your cover is going to be one of the most popular of the year. I have a feel for these things. We just have to pick out some outfits that will wow Mac—which shouldn’t be hard. You have a great body, so anything will look good on you.”
I don’t. I really don’t. I have a functional body, one that’s lean and well muscled and strong enough to do tricks that a lot of guys can’t do. But that doesn’t mean I look good in a bathing suit. That doesn’t mean I want the whole world to see how flat-chested I am. Or how big my biceps are. And I hate that she’s standing there lying to me just to get me to do what she wants, no matter how humiliating it’s going to be for me.
