“Did you see this shit?!” Maggie broadcast her disgust to anyone within earshot as she ripped a screaming yellow poster off of the bulletin board in the breezeway. The newly loosened shingles in the cache of “roommate wanted”s flapped their disapproval as she stormed by.
“Seriously, look.” She grabbed my arm and thrust the cheap copy in my face. I grinned.
“If you put as much time into rehearsal as you do into practicing your model pout, we’d be on posh tour bus somewhere in France by now.”
“Do you ever get tired of being such a bitch?” The fake snarl barely covered her amusement. “Besides, that’s not what I’m talking about…… This.” She stabbed her finger emphatically at a blurry byline.
“And more,” I read out loud and immediately clamped my mouth shut. It would have been better to feign ignorance and duck into the nearest life drawing class. Naked people are always a good diversion. Instead I asked the dumbest question in the world: “So...?”
“SO!?” Her perfectly lined eyes and always-glossy mouth stayed fixed in the roundness of the vowel sound for what seemed like an interminable amount of time until her built-up store of contempt was exhausted.
When she finally snapped out of her plastic form, the stabby finger had found a new target on my shoulder.
“Come on, Elly, I thought you helped organize this whole festival thing. And yet somehow we get tucked into a teeny thumbnail in the bottom corner where the only attention we’re going to get is a staple through the face?”
“It’s a fundraiser, not a festival. We’re there just to look pretty and croon sweet, cash-jerking siren songs.”
“Jeezus, again? Do we at least get a tip jar?”
"Don't hold your breath."
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