“Yeah?” That got Sherri’s attention. She’d heard about girls getting discovered by visiting photographers. That winter, Gloria had invited Tina, Carmen, and Bunny Autumn to participate in a photo shoot by the ski lodge, and the photographer took photos of them learning how to cross-country ski. Bunny Tina was friends with a Bunny in the St. Louis club who’d become a centerfold; now she was married to Jimmy Connors. It wasn’t unusual to have a photographer at the resort. What was unusual was that he was talking to Sherri.

“They don’t like to announce that I’m coming. I’m like a famous food critic who dines undercover. I try to see you girls when you’re acting natural.” He began to clean the lens with a soft chamois cloth. “I have a feeling about you. You’ve got great bone structure, and your smile is absolutely radiant.”

“Radiant?”

“Brighter than the sun. So, tell me, you want to test?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Who do you think?”

The word “test” sounded official and reminded her of school. It was something to be administered. “I guess,” she said. “As long as I don’t have to get naked or anything. I’m not like that.”

“You didn’t strike me as a square. Why would you be embarrassed of your perfect body?”

“I’m not,” Sherri said. “It’s just—”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I get it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Look, all I’m interested in right now is how your face comes across on film. Please, can I just take a few photos? You never know what might come of it. If they turn out, I’ll send them to corporate.”

Corporate? That sounded official. “I guess.”

“Good, let’s go tell my assistant. We were just about to leave when we saw you. Perfect timing.” He walked her to a tan van and rapped on the window with his knuckle. A young man with hair the color of the burnt-red peanuts her mom used to eat stepped out. “Ron, I found that girl we saw last night, the one you said would be perfect.”

Ron smiled. “Oh, that’s great. The hair, the attitude. I told Johnnie you’re the whole package.”

“He’s learning,” Mr. Saito said. “It was Ron who noticed you first. He’s developing a good eye, gotta say. Ron, you got that bottle of Jim Beam? Let’s pour her a shot.”

“No thanks,” Sherri said. “I’ve got to work after this.” Gloria was part bloodhound—she could smell alcohol from a mile away. Once, Ginger had gotten busted for drinking before work, even though she’d gone to great lengths to cover it up. She’d brushed her teeth, gargled with mouthwash, smoked a menthol cigarette, and swallowed a spoonful of mustard. Still Gloria sniffed it and gave her a demerit.