The Nova Game

1

I'd had it. I'd had it with being poor only two days after payday. I'd had it with having to scrounge for extra hours at my shitty barista job just to justify even working there. And I'd had it struggling to find extra time to study the topics for this semester of college. I had decided that today was going to be a change. I needed to find some way to change my life, turn it around so I wasn't so miserable all the time. So, as I sat against the wall of the coffee shop where I worked, smoking a cigarette, I had my phone out, scrolling through the different listings of help wanted ads.

Thursday nights were always slow, and I had already been on my break for longer than I was allotted. But I wasn't worried about it. Ben, my boss, had already gone home for the day, and Susan was running the shop, tending to the two customers we had. She knew what I was doing and had agreed to let me do my thing for a while.

So far, nothing was popping up as realistic ways to earn extra cash. Mowing lawns, selling white blood cells, tutoring special education students and helping and elderly couple build a deck for their yard were oddly enough at the top of my list. I sighed, took a long drag on the nearly dead cigarette, and shut off the screen. I wasn't getting anywhere with this. Perhaps tomorrow I'd look at the ads at the campus advertisement board, and see if there was anything there.

Feeling sour, I stood, tied my apron back on, and walked sullenly back into work. Susan immediately saw my downtrodden look, and gave me one of pity.

"No luck?"

"Unless you can teach me how to build a deck from scratch..." I said, coming around the counter and leaning against the soft serve machine.

"Haley, you know I love you, but can't you just cut a few classes, to take of some of the load? You're going to drive yourself crazy."

"I think I'm already there, you know me." I said, pulling out a hair tie, and bundling me dark hair up into a ponytail.

"What about baby sitting? You could study while you watched some kids, and make a few bucks at the same time." Susan mused, beginning to wipe down the counter in front of her. She had her blonde hair in curls today, and they waved merrily as she made sweeping movements across the counter top.

"I didn't even see any ads for that, but really, can you imagine people leaving their kids with me? I swear I can barely keep flowers alive, let alone little kids."

Susan smirked, but said nothing. I appreciated her input, but I knew I needed to find something different. Something that allowed me to make a nice stack of cash quick. My broken down car was in desperate need of some TLC, my refrigerator was more empty than a homeless man's belly, and if I could get the A/C fixed in my crummy apartment, it would almost make up for the shitty laptop I had to deal with everyday.

"Well," Susan said, turning back to me, "let's close up, and you can go home and get some sleep."

"More like go home and kill myself trying to pass Psyche. I'm down to a D average, and midterms are coming up."

But nonetheless, I started sweeping the lobby. The only remaining customers started to shuffle out, bidding Susan and I a good night. The last customer was still seated, drinking his latte slowly. I sighed inwardly, annoyed, and turned off the open sign. I started toward him, to hurry him along. I noticed suddenly that he was staring at me with a knowing grin as he sipped his hot drink. Unnerved, I approached him.

"We're closing up, sir."

He gave me a long look over, and then stood. He was a good looking guy, actually. Older than me, surely in his thirties. He had a crisp haircut, slicked back sharply, and a thin goatee on his chin. His wireframe glasses gave me to feeling of intelligence, though having worn glasses for years myself, I knew that they were in no way a guarantee of brains.

"I'm heading out." He said finally. "I couldn't help over hear you."

I doubted this quite firmly, but I didn't say anything. He smiled at me with the same intense eye contact, almost making me blush out of awkwardness. After a solid thirty seconds, he was still decidedly quite.

"Yes?" I said finally.

"I think I can help." He held my gaze for a few more moments, and finally looked away as he pulled out his wallet. He pulled out two things. A small white business card, and a crisp fifty dollar bill. He held both out to me, his eyes catching mine again.

My surprise must have shown on my face. Customers rarely tipped, and when they did, it was generally pocket change. I stammered out an awkward thank you, and took the money and the card.

"I think you would do well with us." He said cryptically. "Call me if you're interested. My number's on the back."

I nodded, sill speechless, and he chuckled softly. He didn't say another word as he walked past me, and out the front door. I looked down and the business card in my hand, sitting on top of the fifty. It was plain, white background and black typing. It said, "Nova Modeling - Modeling agency and talent scouting."

...

I don't consider myself a very attractive girl. About average really. I'm not, like, fat or anything. I'm about 5'4", I have dark brown, chest length hair that can't hold curls no matter how hard I try. I'm relatively pale, owing to the fact that I rarely go out in the sun. My glasses are somewhat stylish though, dark purple frames with small oval lenses. My ex (and only) boyfriend called them slutty librarian glasses, which I quite liked. My legs are only slightly toned, mostly from being on my feet all day. I'm of average weight, I've been trying to do some cardio here and there, but I'm lazy, so I find it hard to stick with it. My boobs aren't even huge, small b cups for me. The only physical trait I am proud of is my ass, which for some reason, has always been big and round. I don't even have to do squats.

So naturally, I've never even considered modeling. I mean, if there was a place for average looking nerdy girls, I might have given it a shot. But even then, I'm rather shy when it comes to my body. I was so shocked with the customer's offer, that when I got home, I literally sat staring at the business card for a full forty-five minutes while sipping on a beer.

Modeling? Really? Me? Was the guy (Dennis Higgins, according to his card), putting me on? Or severely confused. Was his coffee spiked? I just couldn't believe it. The card had had a website listed, so after I got over the shock, I turned on my crappy laptop. After waiting fifteen minutes for it to start, I entered the url, and examined the site. It was what you'd expect, a badly put together site with several pictures of pretty girls. Aside from that, information was limited to a call for more info phone number, which matched the one on the business card. I closed the browser and pulled up my assignments from school, and spent the rest of the night trying to focus on the boring subject matter.

The next morning, I'd nearly forgotten about the clean cut customer and his crazy offer. Sudan found me as soon as my first lecture had ended, and nearly attacked me.

"So what was that about? Last night?"

It took a moment to recall what she meant, but then it all came back in a rush of strange dreams I'd forgotten I'd had in the night, and a pit in my stomach that always appeared when I was nervous. I told her what happened, not leaving out how stupid it was. Susan was much better looking than I was, and if either of us should do modeling, it was certainly her.

"It's crazy right?" I asked as I finished.

Susan was all smiles. "You should do it! My mom used to do some modeling. Apparently she made quite a bit when she was our age. And if he offered you a job..." She trailed off, letting me think about that.

"Well, he said to call him. He didn't offer anything, yet."

Susan spent the whole day trying to convince me, but honestly, the whole thing just scared me. I would be totally nervous in front of a camera, let alone sexy. Anyone looking at an ad with me in it would only see how stupid I looked, and would instantly forget about whatever product I was supposed to be beautifying.

...

Two weeks passed. I hadn't thought much about it after I had decided that it wasn't for me. It wasn't until I got home one night and found an eviction notice posted on my door that I thought about it again. I had two weeks to come up with rent for the last five months. Panic had set in, and I was already trying to figure out where to live. The modeling agency came swimming in my mind.

I still wasn't sure if I wanted anything to do with this company, but I was running out of options. And time. It took me nearly an hour to find the card, which had been crumpled and tossed under my bed. With slightly trembling hands, I dialed in the contact number, and heard the ring.

"Dennis Higgins." The familiar voice answered.

I almost chickened out. But I swallowed and rushed into my call.

"Hi, you might not remember me. My name is Hayley Rodgers, you gave me a card a few weeks ago at-"

"The coffee shop. Yes, I remember. What can I do for you, Miss Rodgers?"

Slightly abashed, I told him. "Right, I was uh, looking for more information. I, uh, am interested in your offer."

Dennis's soft chuckle came over slightly tinny in the phone's earpiece. "Great, what would you like to know?"

This stumped me. What did I want to know? "Well, honestly, I'd like to know how much I could earn with you..."

"Well, all of our models have a chance to earn a good paycheck, that is if we get you a gig. Most of the time, that takes a few weeks. We have to get some headshots, and build a resume for you. Actually its really more of a bio, but there you go. Are you interested.?"

My heart had sunk. It took weeks? If that even panned out, that would be cutting it so close to my eviction. What could I do? My tears came as I talked to him, and I didn't even try to make it sound otherwise.

"I really need money. I'm getting evicted, I can barely feed myself, I don't know what to do. I don't have weeks to wait for a paycheck, isn't there anything you can do to speed it along?"

Dennis was silent for a few moments. I almost thought he had hung up in me. But then he said, "Why don't you come down to the office tomorrow? I think I might be able to do something for you."

That was all it took. In my panic and misery, I sprang at the chance, and wrote down the address. After he had bid me farewell, I fretted about trying to decide what to wear. I didn't really have any nice interview type clothes. And I didn't know what he'd be expecting. After an hour of trying on different things, I decided on a plain black tshirt, a red knee length skirt, and matching heels. I didn't wear heels often, I was terrible with my balance, but I felt that I needed to impress.

I laid my chosen outfit out, and decided to skip studying for the night. I wanted to sleep, try to not think about how fucked I was. I took my clothes off, sliding into bed in my usual panties only sleep wear, and tried to sleep. After what seemed like forever, I was unconscious.