by Vella Munn
“They are unique.” He set down his camera bags and looked around. “I swear I sense the ghosts of the Indians who hid out here.”
They’re more than ghosts. “Can you?” she asked.
“I think anyone who spends enough time here will feel them.” He indicated the vast and unoccupied world. “Nothing’s come to chase those ghosts away. No freeways or cities. Of course, no one in their right mind would so much as build a house, let along high rises, out here. Talk about desolate.”
“It isn’t, not really,” she blurted. Regretting the words, she asked if she could do anything to help.
“What you’d better do if you’re going to get on the warhorse’s good side is run a comb through your hair, wash your face, and do the makeup thing. But before you do that—” He looked around. “Uh, we’re alone. No nosy ears.”
What was he talking about?
“I want what I’m telling you to remain between the two of us. Once you hear me, I’m sure you’ll understand why.”
“It’s a secret?”
“More like privileged information. Kayla, you’re just getting started in this business, so maybe you don’t know how ruthless it can be. The competition is fierce. Your fellow models might applaud someone else’s success and opportunities, but they’d kill to have some of that come your way.”
“Oh.” She looked around but couldn’t spot the other models.
“Just keep things to yourself. That’s all I’m saying. Last night after thinking about it some more, I emailed the picture of you and the eagle to a friend.”
“Oh.” Although she felt like a stuck record, she didn’t know what else to say.
“Not just a friend. Another fashion photographer.”
“It—it was a pretty unusual picture.”
“You’re talking about the bird, but I saw something else. So did Hersh.”
“What—else?”
“You.”
She’d half believed he was going to say there’d been a Modoc in the shot. “Me? Of course. That wasn’t—”
“You didn’t see it, did you?” Rory smiled down at her like an indulgent older relative. “I didn’t think you did. Like I said, you’re new to this business. The camera likes you, Kayla. Heck, it loves you.”
“It does?”
He chuckled, and she half expected him to pat her on the top of the head. “You had a natural expression, open and real. That’s hard for anyone to achieve when they’re being photographed and almost impossible for a teen. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d forgotten I was on the planet.”
For a little while I did. “Is that bad?”
“Bad? It’s fantastic. I hope you never lose it” Rory looked around again. “We’re going to get our marching orders in a minute, but you need to hear the rest.”
“Rest?”
“Hersh isn’t just some freelance hack trying to pay the rent like me. You’ve heard of Drominex, haven’t you?”
Drominex was a small chain of exclusive clothing stores in California. Kayla had seen their fashions in national magazines, and the owner of the office where her mother worked went to their store in San Francisco a couple of times a year to shop. Kayla’s mother said the expensive outfits looked fantastic on her boss but were pretentious. “I’ve never been there,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine ever shopping there, so there’s not much point.”
Rory chuckled. “Can’t afford their rags on your allowance, can you? Most people can’t. Most. But some—mostly high-powered and high-profile career women—wouldn’t be caught dead without at least one Drominex outfit in their wardrobe.”
Why was he telling her this? She wasn’t a career woman.
“The company made their mark catering to the aforementioned high-powered types,” he went on. “But they’re getting ready to capture a younger market. Adults might earn the living, but kids spend the money, and they’re determined to tap into that.”
Rory’s tone had become more animated. She turned her full attention to what he was saying. “Hersh does a lot of work with Drominex, and he’s involved with the new campaign. It isn’t his responsibility to line up the models, but if he sees someone he thinks might be right, he lets the powers-that-be know.”
“Oh.” It was getting hard to breathe.
“It didn’t take him long to agree with me. You have a unique look.”
I’m dirty, and my hair’s a mess. “I—do?”
“Yes, you do. You can take that to the bank–or you’ll be able to if you play your cards right. Hersh called as I was getting ready to come out here this morning.” Now Rory was whispering. “Last night he forwarded your emailed picture to the head of the advertising department.”
“He—did?” Stop sounding like an idiot!
“Having a little trouble getting all this to sink in, are you?” He chuckled. “Try wrapping your mind around this. How would you like to spend the first week of September working in San Francisco?”
“San—school...school starts then.”
“You’ll have to audition, but it’s the chance of a lifetime, Kayla. The opportunity to launch what could become a lucrative career. Some of the models have already been selected, but there are still slots. You could fill one of them.”
Thanks to Rory’s patience, Kayla made it through the morning session and three outfit changes. If they were looking for a model who didn’t seem to know what she was doing, they’d get that right because for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what poses she’d struck let alone who, if anyone, she’d struck them with, and what she’d been wearing.
She, who a few months ago had only dreamed about what it would be like to get paid to dress up in fantastic clothes and have her picture in fashion magazines, had a chance to model in San Francisco. Like Rory had told her, agencies were always looking for fresh faces, and she certainly fit that bill. The only time she’d been to San Francisco was to get on an airplane for Michigan where her father’s parents lived, and that didn’t count. San Francisco was sophisticated; everyone said so. And from the pictures she’d seen, most of the ground had been paved over.
They were wrong! It was a horrible mistake! She’d fall all over herself, make a fool of herself, and probably make Drominex go broke.
But what if they weren’t wrong?
****
Joel asked if she wanted to join him for lunch, but although she accepted half of his tuna sandwich, she walked off by herself so she could use her cell phone. She needed to tell her parents about the San Francisco thing, so maybe, she could start thinking straight, but she hardly ever called them at work. Her mother was often with prospective buyers or manning the phones, making it almost impossible to have any kind of a conversation with her, and her father spent much of his days in meetings. He probably wouldn’t mind tearing himself away from a meeting, but it might be important. She'd call her brother if she knew how to get in touch with him.
“Megan,” she said when her cousin came on the line after a half dozen rings. “Megan, it's me, Kayla.” The baby was crying in the background.
“Where are you? Hush, hush, you're all right.”
Guessing Megan was trying to calm the baby and not get her to shut up, she asked how the little boy was doing.
“Okay, I guess. He was awake most of the night.”
Kayla waited for Megan to ask what she was doing. When she didn't, she told her friend that she'd learned a lot about how to act in front of a camera but still had a long way to go. “Some of the clothes are fantastic! Not always practical but, wow! The most important thing is to always show enthusiasm—unless they want me to look bored.”
“You're so lucky.”
“I'm still pinching myself.” On the verge of mentioning San Francisco, Kayla hesitated. “I wish you were here. This place is fascinating.” It's so much more than that. “I know you'd enjoy poking around with me.”
“Here's your bottle. What?”
“I said you'd like it.”
“I'd
go for anything that would get me out of here. No, take it, please.”
“Take what?”
“Wait a minute. Oh, good, he finally took the bottle. I don't know why he gives me such a hard time about it. The public health nurse says it’s because I'm not relaxed, like I can do anything about that.”
Not sure what to say, Kayla asked if Short Stuff, her pet name for Andrew, was still sucking.
“For now, but he’ll probably spit up in a minute. I'm just so tired. Tired of being stuck in this dump and being broke. When I went to the health department, I had to wait over an hour. I felt like such a loser.”
Megan worked evenings as a waitress while a neighbor watched her son. When she'd first gotten the job, her mother had babysat, but that meant Megan had to drive to the opposite side of town late at night to pick him up. Besides, Megan and her mother weren't on the best of terms. Kayla could understand Megan’s mother’s disappointment, but what could Megan do? Give Short Stuff to someone else?
“Have you thought any more about going back to school?” Kayla asked.
“Yeah, right.”
“They have that daycare center at the high school,” she pointed out. “And you'd be in class with other young single parents.”
“I've heard the lecture from my folks more than enough times,” Megan snapped. “I don't need it from you.”
Stung, Kayla resisted the urge to hang up. Once she and Megan had been best friends in addition to being related; there hadn't been anything she couldn't tell her. But so much had changed since Megan had gotten pregnant. It was as if they lived in different worlds. “You aren't happy. I'm just trying to think of something that would change that. If you could get a better job and move–“
“What would make me happy is to have Sean act like a father. To pay some of the bills.”
Sean was Short Stuff's father. The last Kayla had heard, Sean was driving truck, a job that took him all over the country. He'd been on the road when the baby was born but had brought back a bunch of newborn clothes. Kayla wasn't sure how she felt about Sean. He seemed nice enough even if he didn't know how to hold a baby. She didn’t think he was interested in marrying Megan, which was just as well because Megan didn’t act as if she loved him.
“I asked him to call and let me know where he is,” Megan went on. “But I haven't heard from him for almost a week. Just once, I'd like him to deal with a fussy baby. Then he'd see.”
“Short Stuff isn't fussing now.”
“No. At least Sean got me that car. I just don't know why he expects me to act like he did me some great service. And now it's making an awful sound. I'm afraid to drive it.”
Kayla reminded Megan that the restaurant where she worked was only about three blocks away so she could walk if necessary. Obviously that was the wrong thing to say because Megan snapped that she didn't understand because Kayla had the world by the tail.
“I'm sorry,” Megan said after a short silence. She sounded as if she was crying. “It isn't your fault that I feel a thousand years old. I love Short Stuff. I really do. I just feel as if I've lost myself.”
“You haven't,” Kayla reassured her although what did she know? “Having a child is a huge adjustment, that's all.”
“Like you have a clue. Wait a minute. I've got to burp him.”
Kayla stopped holding the cell phone tight against her ear. She'd blocked out other sounds while talking to Megan, but now she became aware of birds singing. As gray and monotonous as the land looked, some of the birds had brilliant coloring. She loved their bright red heads and black-tipped wings, to say nothing of the jerky way they hopped from bush to bush.
Wondering if Megan was done, she brought the phone to her ear again. Short Stuff gurgled and cooed.
“He's happy,” she said.
“He thinks I'm silly. Oh, you goofy baby. You're funny. You know you are.”
Short Stuff laughed.
Sudden tears blurred Kayla's vision; she barely noticed that the necklace was getting warm again. Would Morning Song ever again hear her son laugh?
Chapter Eight
“The dragon lady is keeping an eye on you,” Joel said. “Takes the pressure off the rest of us, but I’m sorry for you.”
“She’s just doing what she has to.” Kayla sat down near Joel but kept an eye on Mrs. Blush. “She’s the one under pressure.”
Joel frowned. “I guess. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I don’t know what she’s being paid, but being responsible for getting all the shots done right and on time can’t be easy. Besides–“ Kayla leaned closer, “—I haven’t made things easy for her.”
Shrugging, Joel glanced around. “Between you and me, I’ll be glad to get out of here. This place gives me the willies.”
“It does?”
“Yeah. Don’t you feel it? It’s like it’s in a time warp. I think about the war, wondering whether there couldn’t have been a different way to handle things. I feel sorry for the Indians, but there’s nothing I can do about it. If they’d just stayed on the reservation–“
”They couldn’t. They couldn’t live like that.”
“How do you know? Look, what does it matter? What happened, happened. Besides, as soon as this gig is over I’m heading for L.A.”
“You are?”
“Gotta go where the action is.” He grinned. “You know as well as I do that modeling is for young people. My folks are having a fit because they think I won’t be able to handle myself there, that I’m going to fall on my nose or something, come home with my tail tucked between my legs.”
“Does that worry you?”
“Heck, no.” He lowered his voice. “My folks are rich. They won’t let me wind up on the streets. It took some doing, but they agreed to pay for an apartment for the first six months. My agent already has some stuff lined up.”
In other words, although Joel was moving hundreds of miles from his parents, he had a safety net under him. She told him about how her brother was bumming around the country, barely paying his bills, but as far as she knew, not concerned.
“Good for him. Kayla, this is our time. If we don’t have fun now, when will we?”
“What about responsibility?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She nearly mentioned the Modocs she met but stopped herself in time. “My cousin has a baby. She went from being a kid to a mother. She has no choice.”
Grinning, he squeezed her hand. “Fortunately we do. This is our chance to howl, to have fun, to do what we want, not what someone tells us to.”
She glanced down at her hand, remembering how life-worn Morning Song’s parents had looked. “I guess,” she muttered and got up.
When she learned that she wouldn’t be in the next shoot, Kayla decided to go for a walk. She had no intention of getting far from the others, but she felt too restless to just stand around. She climbed a rise so she had a better view of the long depression to the south. A low fog rested along part of the depression, but she could see most of the rocks, short, tough grasses, and few shrub-like trees. After staring for a while, she spotted movement maybe a football field distance away. For a moment, she was afraid Morning Song or True Hand had sucked her into the past again, but before long she realized she was looking at a dog. No, not a dog, she amended. It had to be a coyote. Delighted with her discovery, she watched the coyote slink along, apparently hunting something.
How long had coyotes been in this area, and would they always be around? Probably as long as there were creatures for them to feed on. She didn’t like the idea of a rabbit or rodent winding up as dinner, but the coyote had a right to live.
After a while the coyote disappeared, but continuing to watch for it, she continued to shield her eyes.
Gradually she became aware of another presence. The sensation became stronger, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up. Finally though, she had no choice.
An eagle was circling her. It was so close that she could make out its i
ndividual feathers, and its bright, black eyes mesmerized her. Around and around it went, not coming closer, but giving no sign of leaving either.
“What do you want?” she demanded. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
She couldn’t tell whether the eagle had heard her. It continued its low, close flight, a massive and magnificent bird. Despite herself, she longed to stroke its feathers, to touch the talons.
“I’m not what you need. Don’t you understand, I’m just a scared girl.”
Hearing a cough, she jumped and spun around.
The ranger she’d talked to the other night stood a short distance away. She expected to see disbelief in his eyes. Instead, he indicated the eagle, then nodded at her and walked closer. As he did, the eagle soared skyward.
“You were watching?” she managed.
“Yes,” Robert Palmer said. “I heard you talking to it.”
“Do–do you think I’m crazy?” she asked the skinny man. “Talking to eagles, I mean?”
“I think something that can’t be explained is happening.” He sounded a bit in awe, a bit accepting. “This isn’t the first time for you, is it?”
Kayla reluctantly shook her head. “I don’t know what to think, how to explain–“
”Don’t try.” Maybe he knew she was shaking because he put his arm around her shoulder. “Kayla–that’s your name isn’t it? Kayla, I’ve been working here for years. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of everything. What I think is that this area is caught between past and present. The lava beds are basically unchanged from when the Modocs lived here, from when they and the army were at war. I feel them all the time, especially when I’m in Fern Cave.”
“What’s that?” She could hardly speak.
“If and when you have time, I’ll take you there. You have to go down into it to really understand.” He turned her toward her. “Kayla, are you all right?”
“I–I think so.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Are you safe?” He indicated where the eagle had been.
“I don’t know.”
The sun was low in the sky by the time Kayla returned to the Modoc cave. When the day’s session ended, Rory had offered to throw the bicycle into the van, but Kayla had told him she’d ride back. Instead, she’d waited until the others were out of sight and then made her way along the path that had already become familiar.