Page 31 of Doll Face

“Okay, models!” the photographer finally says while wearing his new Ray Bans.

“I want you, you, and you on set.” He points to me, Ken, and Daisy. We are all quiet as we wait for further instructions, like poses, the theme of the shoot, or any other information for us to do our job, but it doesn’t come.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Pose!” he shouts, looking at us like we’re morons. I hate when photographers act like they’re the ones in charge just because they make a little bit more money than us. Finally, the director of the shoot gets up from their chair and saunters over.

“I need magic. Pretend you’re about to all make love.”

It’s not the first time Ken and I have been pushed together as lovers. We get it; we’d make some hot ass babies. He’s already offered to be a sperm donor and cool uncle Ken if the time ever came. With Daisy, it’s a new dynamic, so we make sure to include her. She’s beautiful with long red hair and curves, like mine, for days. She’s also really brilliant, the only one of us to actually go to college before being scouted.

“Yes!” The photographer is happy now, dancing around the set. Until he jumps too high and then complains of a headache. So we’re all told to have a seat and take another break.

I sit at my station and pull out my phone. I want to send Barbie a quick text when I realize I’ve missed three of her calls. Something must be wrong. I call her back instantly, even though phones on set are kind of a no no.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I’m on set, are you okay?”

“Hi.” Barbie sniffles. She’s crying.

“Doll Face, what’s wrong?” I ask quietly, using her special nickname.

“I had the worst day at work. Everything is going wrong, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just want to see you.”

“I’m so sorry. Do you want me to meet you somewhere later?”

“Or now?” She sobs.

I hesitate. I can’t leave in the middle of a shoot, but in all the years I’ve known Barbie, she’s never cried over something small. If something is happening to make her sob and ask to see me, I know it must be big.

“Hold on,” I tell Barbie and try to think of something.

“Okay! Models back on set,” the director yells. Fuck.

“If you can’t see me it’s okay.” I hear her blowing her nose.

“No, if you need me I’m there,” I say even though I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to choose between Barbie and my job before.

“Models!” the director calls again, and I realize everyone’s waiting on me.

“I-I have to—” I’m about to say I have to go when the director comes up to me. I quickly put Barbie on mute so she can’t hear anything for a second and put the phone down.

“Excuse me? Model? I know you’re not hard of hearing since you’re on the phone but it’s time to get back on shoot,” he snaps.

“I’m sorry but this is a family emergency.”

“That’s a hoot, you don’t have any family. We are your family.” My manager, Carla, scowls. That was a low blow, and she knows it. Sure, I’m not in contact with my parents but that isn’t something I want to have thrown in my face.

“It’s a family emergency, and I have to go,” I say, and I start collecting my things.

“If you leave, you’re jeopardizing your career,” Carla says, grabbing my arm.

“It’s an emergency,” I repeat. It’s like they aren’t hearing me. I’ve never done something like this before and they know it. I’m not like some of the girls who break a nail or get their period and can’t work. I’m always on time and ready. So to not be able to cut me a little leeway when I have an emergency feels like a slap in the face.

“I need to go.” I grab my phone, toss on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and leave the shoot.

I unmute Barbie. She’s still crying when I pick up.

“I’m on my way, Doll Face, don’t you worry about a thing,” I tell her.

Instead of guessing what she said, I call Carla back to find out exactly what she said to Barbie. Once she answers, I know I’m in for an earful.

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