painfully shy; she no longer walked hunched over to mask her height.
After that show. Grace’s mother began buying fashion magazines. She’d point to pictures in the magazine and hold them out in front of Grace. “Maybe you should have your hair cut like this girl’s,” she would say. Or, “If you’d do those leg lifts, you’d get a better rear end for those clothes you have to wear.” Grace’s mother and Brad conspired to persuade her to quit high school and focus entirely on her career, but Grace refused. She loved modeling, but she was beginning to envy her classmates’ normal lives as they entered their senior year. Bonnie was still her best friend, but things had changed. Bonnie had met a boy over the summer, and she usually had a date on Saturday nights. Grace often worked on Saturdays and was too tired to go out when evening rolled around. Not that anyone was asking her out, anyway.
As she was drawn deeper into her modeling career and became aware of the life-style Brad’s more experienced models were living, Grace grew uncomfortable. Most of the other models were older and out of school.
Drugs were rampant, and although she didn’t think Brad used drugs himself, he turned a blind eye to whatever his girls were doing to get themselves through their grueling schedules. There were more and more fashion shows out of town, and Grace had little choice but to skip school in order to take those jobs.
Her relationship with Brad was gradually changing. While the other models might be driven to shows in Washington or Philadelphia in a specially equipped van, Brad often asked Grace to ride with him in his car. At first, she thought this was because he knew she didn’t fit in with the other girls and that she felt awkward with them. But she began to realize that he no longer thought of her as simply one of his blossoming models. She would catch him staring at her when she was doing nothing more than putting on her makeup or eating her dinner of fish and vegetables. He hugged her often. He hugged the other girls, as well, but she knew there was something different in the way he touched her.
One night, while driving back from a fashion show in Washington, he was uncharacteristically quiet in the car. She was tired, so she didn’t mind. Resting her head against the car window, she had nearly dozed off when his voice broke the silence.
“I know this is crazy,” he said, his gaze fixed out the front window of the car, “and I have no idea how you’ll react to this, but… I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while now.”
She turned her head in his direction, waiting.
He glanced at her, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked unsure of himself.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he said.
The words stunned her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She had no idea how to respond.
“I know, I know,” he said hurriedly.
“I’m old enough to be your father. And believe me, I’ve been fighting the feelings. But I can’t help myself. I’ve been attracted to you from the very beginning, and you’ve just become more… appealing to me as you’ve matured and grown as a model. You project this… savvy innocence. It’s irresistible, Grace.”
She couldn’t help being nattered that a man like Brad Chappelle was interested in her, but she still felt shocked by his admission.
“Say something. Grace,” he said. His voice was almost pleading.
“I’m very grateful for what you’ve done for me,” she said slowly.
“And… I do love you, Brad.” She did. He was the dearest man she’d ever known. He’d become like a father to her, and more. But she knew that would not be the best thing to say right now.
“I’m not in love with you, though. I’ve never thought of you that way.” She had to be honest with him. He was handsome, kind and generous, but nothing could change his age.
Brad sighed.
“See what I mean?” he asked.
“Any of the other girls would have said, job, I love you, too, Brad,” just to stay on my good side. But not you. I knew I could trust you to tell me how you’re really feeling. I certainly won’t push you. Grace. But I want you to know how I feel, in case that makes a difference to you. In case you might just possibly start looking at me. ‘that way,” as you say.”
When she got home that night, she called Bonnie, even though it was quite late. She lay on her bed and told BonI me, in perfect detail, what Brad had said to her. “I’m in shock,” Bonnie said when Grace had finished her story.
“And I’m mixed up,” Grace said.
“I think it’s neat that he’s interested in you,” Bonnie said.
“He’s really cute, don’t you think?”
No, she didn’t think Brad was “cute.” Bonnie’s seventeen-year-old boyfriend. Curt, was “cute.” Grace longed for Bonnie’s normal, teenage-girl life.
“Can you picture going to bed with him?” Bonnie asked.
‘ We,” Grace said, although she had never even kissed a boy, so it was difficult to imagine actually sleeping with one. And Brad was no boy.
There was a knock on her bedroom door.
“Grace?” Her mother opened the door and poked her head inside.
“Hang up,” she said.
“I want to talk to you.”
Something in her mother’s voice told her not to argue.
“I have to go, Bonnie,” she said. She hung up the phone and waited as her mother sat down on the edge of the
