One man at the next table raised his glass toward her. "I'll drink to that," he slurred. The others at his table laughed.
Ignoring them, Kira lowered her head and motioned us to lean in. She still had that manic glow on her face, and I could tell she had more news. I mean, look at her! She was actually shaking with excitement. I scooted closer to find out why.
"Here's the special part," Kira whispered. "The news ticker on the TV mentioned a contest. It said that the winner gets a week on the Fiery Boys tour bus. I looked it up-it's a real contest. All you need to do is send in a photo." She sat up straight and smiled, then spoke with cool confidence. "I'm going to win that contest."
I forced myself not to laugh at the absurdity of her statement. Kira often got grand ideas like this, and I understood why. After all, no man had ever refused her. They couldn't-probably some law of physical attraction. If Kira said she was going on tour with the Fiery Boys, it might actually happen.
I patted her arm. "Sure you are. And you're going to marry Chuck. You've been telling me that since high school."
"But I'm serious this time. Look." She held out her phone. "Here's the entry form where you submit your picture. See? Winner gets a week on tour with the band." She sat up straight and flashed a sultry smile. "That'll be me."
Jo, a psychologist, had been watching this interchange with what seemed like professional detachment. "Excuse me. . ." Her voice was serious, but her smirk warned us that things wouldn't stay that way. "Is there a casting couch to help them choose?"
Typical. Jo took the same approach to this contest that she did toward so many things: she made it be all about sex. And since she specialized in relationship counseling, she might well have been right. Jo had heard many strange things from her sexually challenged clients.
Kira ignored Jo's sarcasm and pointed to her phone. "It says here, 'We want to see what you look like, but we also want a picture that tells us something about you. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then make sure we can read some of them.' I've got great shots from when I was modeling. So my photo will tell them that this model can rock it with the Fiery Boys."
Jo and I snuck sympathetic looks at each other. We knew all about Kira's so-called modeling career, which had lasted for one entire photo session. The agency wasn't really looking for models. They just suckered naïve girls into paying for a photographer and some worthless lectures about the amazing life of a model. It never translated into any real work.