She wiped her face, dabbing under her eyes, knowing her makeup would be ruined, and her pale china doll skin would be splotchy with tears. She blushed easily, which made it hard for her to conceal how she felt. She knew this was why it was so easy for the girls to make fun of her; unlike Roberta, who’d learned how to let their teasing roll off her back, Sherri’s hurt blared like a neon sign. Everything got to her.

Soon her sobs, like thunder after a storm, grew less frequent, and Sherri slowly sank back into the cold, hard bucket seat, exhausted but also feeling better, cleansed even. She pressed her face against the window in hopes that the coolness would restore her complexion. When she pulled away, she saw she’d left an ugly smear of tan foundation on the glass.

“Hey Sher,” Roberta said, “remember? Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles—”

Sherri mustered a smile. “—onions on a sesame seed bun!” They said this last part together. The girls used to sing the McDonald’s jingle over and over again, and in rounds. By the time Roberta turned off Highway 50 Sherri felt better, but the knot in her stomach tightened again when she saw a little booth with an attendant and the massive wooden sign advertising the Playboy resort with the familiar, giant white profile of the bunny head with the blank eye carved into it, and she remembered why she was there. Roberta stopped to tell the guy their names, and he waved them in. Sherri flipped down the mirror on the visor. “I’m never going to get this job.” Long black streaks of mascara ran down her face. “Look at me. I look like I just finished a shift in a coal mine!”

“You’ll be fine, you just need to get cleaned up. You’re so pretty, Sher. Just wash your face when we get there. If anyone can get away with a natural look, it’s you.”

Sherri didn’t believe Roberta meant what she’d said. Roberta was always the pretty one; she liked having Sherri as her sidekick, not her competition.

The road up to the resort was almost a mile long, and it wound up and down gentle hills. Sherri had always imagined that the main building would be closer to the lake, but when she turned and looked through the rear window, she could hardly see the icy expanse glinting in the distance.

“This place is posh posh,” Roberta said. “They have their own airplane landing strip.”

“You’ve been here? You never told me that.”

“Just once. My dad has a key. They give them to all the managers at Trent. He brought me to see Gabe Kaplan perform in the Cabaret. All I remember is his stupid joke about teaching a monkey how to shave.”