“Oh, good, you’re ready,” she says, standing up from the couch. I look at her and do a double take. For her job interview, Jasmine has selected a tiny denim skirt, frayed at the bottom, and a dark pink tank top with wide straps that pushes her boobs up and out.

She notices me staring and rolls her eyes. “Before you even ask, yes, they’re fake.” Sam the cameraman’s eyes widen.

“No, it’s not that,” I say, trying to choose my words carefully.

“Ally, don’t be embarrassed,” she says, grabbing her purse and herding me out the door. “It doesn’t mean you’re a lesbian or anything. You’re just curious about my implants—there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Curious about your implants?” I repeat dumbly, struggling to keep up with her as she power walks down the sidewalk. Her high black shoes clack on the concrete, and I wonder how the hell she can walk so fast in shoes like that. “Jasmine, no, it’s not your implants, it’s just that um . . . well, I was thinking that what you have on may not be the best interview outfit.”

She stops on the sidewalk, and Sam the cameraman moves to the side so that he can get both of us in the shot. She smiles. “Ally, honey, this is the kind of tryout where dressing a little bit sexy can definitely give you an edge.”

“Tryout?” I say, struggling to keep up with her as she starts walking again. “I thought you said it was a job interview.”

“It’s both.”

“Oh.” I think about this for a second. “You mean like for an acting job?”

Jasmine throws her head back and laughs. “You crack me up, Al. That’s actually a very good comparison. Some people would think of it as an acting job, yes.”

THINGS I CAN’T STAND:

1. Anyone but Corey calling me Al.

2. People acting condescending toward me.

“Whatever,” I say, turning on my heel and heading back toward the house. She’s on her own. My self-respect is definitely much more important than making America love me. I think.

“Ally, no, wait,” Jasmine says, grabbing my arm. She slides her sunglasses off her eyes and onto her head. “It’s a stripping audition. I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might freak you out.” She bites her lip. “But I could really use someone there with me. I mean, it’s just safer, and it won’t freak me out as much.”

“A stripping audition?” Like for furniture or something?

“Yes.”

“You’re a stripper?”

“Tuition doesn’t pay itself, Ally,” she says, opening her purse and reapplying her lip gloss. “Sometimes you do what you have to do.”

“Oh.” I stand there, considering this and feeling like a fool.

“So,” she says finally, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Are you coming or not?”