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It’s terrible I know, but the money from the nudie shoots had already run out, I’d spent it on random things and I was penniless again. Dammit! I knew I shouldn’t have bought that new purple dress, but I’d felt so beaten down studying at 2 a.m. that I’d allowed myself to splurge and purchased the Versace dress on-line, my eyesight practically blurring, I was so tired.
And maybe I could use those free tickets to my advantage somehow … I dunno, get some guy to buy me dinner at the game, I heard they’d amped up the catering at these fancy new stadiums, there was actually steak and oysters now, not just fries and hot dogs.
So I agreed. It was easy enough — I was supposed to go to the game and do a dance when my section cheered. The lensman would “accidentally” catch me on the Jumbotron and it’d provide the crowd with a glimpse of a pretty girl grooving out, relieving the boredom during a slow inning or whatever. Easy-peasy, no problem.
I’d invited Courtney to come along. Although she’d disappointed me when she’d refused to take me out after the cancelled bridal shower, there weren’t many other people I could ask frankly. I didn’t have many real friends and hadn’t had much time to develop true friendships after my engagement blew up, that kind of shit takes years.
So Courtney and I had gotten ready together, brushing out our blonde hair, making sure our baseball caps were angled just so, pulling on the fitted Giants jerseys Deborah had provided.
“Where you’d get this gear?” she’d asked, curious. Courtney was pretty, almost competition even, but she never found the right guys. The guys who liked her were cute, sure, but they were just like us – graduate students, impoverished, studying for their PhDs or whatever. I liked my men a little more developed, imposing, commanding, and further along their career paths.
“Oh I have a friend who couldn’t make the game so he gave me his tickets,” I said nonchalantly, making sure my hair was brushed to a glossy sheen. I adjusted the baseball jersey so that my girls pressed against the cheap nylon fabric, highlighting my deep cleavage, turning in the mirror to make sure my ass was juicy and perky in the tight jeans. As usual, I looked flawless and made a face at myself in the mirror.
“Come on, you ready?” I asked. “You promised to drive.”
Courtney finished brushing out her own long blonde hair. “I did, didn’t I?” she said slowly. “But don’t go crazy with the drinking okay? I’m borrowing Henry’s car and I don’t want to clean up puke like last time.”
I waved my hand nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about me, that was Renata,” I said dismissively. “I can’t help it if she can’t handle her alcohol.” Of course, I’d been the one pouring the drinks that night and had done nothing to stop Renata from downing far more than her petite 5’1” frame could handle. But we’re all big girls, she should have known better.
“Okay but not again,” said Courtney with a warning glance, like she knew my part in that debacle. Whatever, I was providing the free tickets and Courtney was nothing more than a bit player tonight.
The game was raucous. Frankly, I know nothing about baseball and was much more interested in a group of cute guys seated a couple rows away. I’d seen them looking our way and whispered confidentially to Courtney, throwing them glances and pouting a bit. Maybe I’d get up and walk by their aisle, sashaying my hips provocatively.
But then it came time to perform. In the fifth inning I bounced out of my seat when they started playing “Wild Thing,” the crowd roaring along.
“Come on!” I shrieked at Courtney. “Get up and dance.”
“Um okay,” she said hesitantly, looking at me askance. I was already up, bouncing around, smiling brightly, flaunting my assets.
And just like that, I suddenly appeared on the Jumbotron doing the dougie. I pretended I didn’t know I was on-screen, instead smiling brightly as my body did the moves, swaying, jiggling, tilting my head and flashing a bright smile. I knew I looked good as the crowd cheered, the roar around us deafening, the camera zooming in on my assets, my pretty face, a moment of relief from an intense baseball game.
“Jenna!” shrieked Courtney. “You’re live, you’re live, look!”
And I gazed at the big screen, feigning shock at my image and then waving like a fan, happy to be at the game enjoying a night out with a million other people, loyal to the Giants.
And that’s what launched my career as a public figure. People said I was too fat to be a model, too old, too curvy, too everything. But I just kept at it. I did the Cat Daddy for a famed photographer who posted it to his website, and got two million hits overnight. Isn’t that astounding? For a no-name blonde, not bad I’d say.
