6
I honor commitments to myself by eating ice cream for dinner.
Oops.I'm familiar with the expression, "Hot mess" as I've been named that many times throughout my life, but the blurry picture I see staring back at me through the bar's mirror defines those words, perfectly. "It's like ten o'clock," I tell Wesley.
"I can still remember what went on today, and I haven't gotten a call from my publicist or attorney telling me they've fixed my life." Wesley hangs his head, shaking it from side to side. "This is a disaster."
"Yeah, you've said that a few times tonight. I think everything will turn out okay," I lie. I don't think Mick is going to allow any retraction. I think he's going to be a giant asshole and let this continue.
"You really don't know who I am?" he asks through a slur. "What year were you born?"
"1993," I tell him. "What does that have to do with this?"
"Nothing. The commercials and campaigns were running in 1998-2000. If you were watching TV, you would have seen me."
"Since then, would I have seen you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I've been in advertisements for Kelvin Cain, Abercrom, American Hawk, and Luckily."
I press my lips together, trying my best not to laugh. "Wait a minute. You pose for ads that are ripping off companies that sound the same, but I assume the products are half the price, right?"
"Modeling is modeling," he says. "I get what I get, and it brings in the money."
"Those companies hire advertisers?"
Wesley shrugs and chugs the drink in front of him. "Look, I know I'm a wash-up, okay? I never got into anything big because most of the talent agents are in New York and California and moving there wasn't on my agenda."
"Is Kelvin Cain an underwear company?" I ask him, biting down on my lip, hoping not to snort the excitement out of my nose.
"They sell clothes too, but mostly underwear," he says.
"So, you model underwear?"
He throws his head back and groans. "Yes, okay? Happy now?"
"Not happy until I see an ad you've done. I need proof. Then I'll pretend like I've heard of you. Deal?"
"You just want to see me in my underwear," he says.
"Oh please, I pretty much saw most of that today," I tell him. Not really. He had pants on, but I need to see this, for multiple reasons. "I'm sure you have a sample in your photos. Let me see."
"Is this how you got your job at that firm too? You nagged your way in?"
"Didn't have to this time. I should have wondered why it was so easy, but now I know."
Wesley's hand slaps down on top of his phone that has been lying face up for the last couple of hours since he's waiting for a return call from his team. He unlocks the phone, hits the photo button, and starts scrolling. The man has a lot of selfies—a lot. I have been trying to decide if he's the type to have hundreds of self-absorbed photos on his phone, but now I know.
"Here's the last ad I did for them," he says, sliding the phone over to me.
I grab it and tilt my head to the side to get a better look. "Wow, it's like a legit rip off, huh? The logo even looks like the original."
"I thought you wanted to see my photo?"
"See, you sound arrogant again. I thought we discussed this; humble is better."
"Yeah, you said that but you also just asked to see my photo, and you are the one who keeps bringing up my career."
"True. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you look great here. Your back has great definition, and your crack is tight."
