DANNY Chapter 53 by Roberta J. Cabot This is a story about Daniel, a guy with a unique talent and an even more unique problem: A great singing voice and the looks of his gorgeous sister. And how he and his family deal with his having breasts. And how he ends up as the female lead singer for a high-school cover band as well as a radio DJ. So Danny got convinced to actually go for the meeting with the fashion house in Minneapolis-St. Paul as Robin, with Sally accompanying him. Robin also finally became a real paper person, complete with a Social Security number, a taxpayer's ID, a passport, a birth certificate, a school transcript and everything that Robin would need. The only downside was that he would need to start paying income tax. That and having the family name "Tibbles." (Seriously? Tibbles?) And when they came back home, "Robin" let everyone know that "she" and Sally were now official models for Blumenfeld House. Whoa! Never a dull moment with Batch Fourteen, and Dan & his gang!

  Chapter Fifty-Three: A Girl Named Sally

***** (Danny) *****

Mom and Danielle were able to put away my new stuff by temporarily hanging them in the guest room's empty closet and putting the boxes and sealed bags on the closet floor. It was a tight fit as it was a small closet, but it was only temporary. Mom and Danielle helped to make sure they weren't going to be crumpled.

Dad measured the closet and estimated that I'd need a new closet at least twice the size, and, before I could stop him, he went on-line and ordered a nice big, easy assemble-it-yourself one from Best Buy, and with same-day delivery, it arrived after breakfast the following day.

While they were doing that, I took apart the now-empty crate in the garage, and broke it up into pieces small enough that the garbage people could manage the next time they came for a pickup. It wasn't too difficult - the crate was just loosely nailed together (I made sure to take out all the nails so as not to injure anyone).

Anyway, I had arranged to meet with Sally at two PM the following day, hours before her Tuesday afternoon show.

By this time, I was adept enough in putting on a wig. Although my real newly-long hair would probably make it a little difficult, I thought I'd be able to manage. So I left mom & dad's note with the school admin office, went home without any of the girls to help me, had lunch with mom, read through dad's comments on Robin's contract, and changed into Robin.

I couldn't help thinking how Superman was able to keep on changing outfits in seconds.

For lunch, we had mom's coddle, or what the Irish call Dublin coddle. It's basically a stew made from leftovers - this one had sliced-up left-over pork chops, bits of bacon, potatoes, onions, carrots, salt, pepper and some herbs.

I had three helpings. Mom cooks good. So sue me.

I was a bit nervous, actually, as I was selecting an outfit all on my own - with no input from Nikki or Danielle or anyone. Plus, I was putting on my makeup and my wig on all by myself. Silly to be worrying about these kinds of things. I guess my nervousness is coming mostly from fear of being found out by Sally.

I went up to my room and was very pleasantly surprised when I found my new closet. It was so big, it covered one whole wall of my room. Thank goodness my room was large enough so my new closet didn't reduce my room's size too much. Dad was kind enough to take down the pictures and whatever else that was on that wall, and put them all into a box under my bed, with a note that said he'll help put them back up once I've decided where they'll go.

I opened the accordion-style door of my new closet, and saw it wasn't even one-eighth full. For some reason, I looked down and I saw there was enough space on the closet's floor for all my new Robin shoes, and then noticed all of my Dannie shoes there as well. I looked at the hanger space and I noticed that my Dannie clothes were hung there as well - the Robin stuff was on the right side and the Dannie stuff on the left.

Also on the left side were several drawers like in a dresser, and I checked. My Dannie shirts & blouses, underwear, shorts, lingerie, socks and stockings and tights, accessories and other stuff were there. My new Robin stuff were also there, but were in separate drawers on the other side.

Hmmm. That meant all my girl stuff has been separated from my real stuff. I checked my old closet, and all that was left there were my guy stuff.

Mom and her legendary organizational skills were amazing.

Also on the floor of my new closet were a dozen wig forms as well. I only had a few, so a lot of the wig forms were empty.

I got the brunette one that looked nearest to my Robin hairstyle from the weekend. I made sure to do everything I was taught to do - braid my real hair first, wrap it around my head, put on the wig cap and make sure all of my hair was underneath it, make sure the cap was snug, put the wig over it and adjust it to the proper position, put the bobby pins on, making sure that the pins go through the wig's hair, through the cap and grab some of my real hair, and then shake my head to make sure it was secure.

I was very good. Too bad no one was around to notice it.

I then put on a pair of my new drop gold earrings and a gold chain that we bought at the mall two weeks ago (cheap costume jewelry, I'm afraid - but no one will probably notice) and my new Kate Spade Cooper Strap Watch with the yellow band. I'm afraid the jewelry and the watch are Robin's now - Dannie or Danielle can never wear them ever again.

I then picked clothes from my fancy, new Blumenfeld wardrobe. (Before I put on my new clothes, though, by ingrained habit now, I put on some of Dr. Roberts' magic solution first.)

I put on a pair of shiny, opaque diamond patterned black tights over one of my black thong gaffs, and selected a pair of four-inch-high mustard wedge booties (I didn't put them on yet). I then put on a sexy canary-yellow designer bra and a semi-see through ivory smock top tunic with a heavy, gold chain I wore like a belt. You could almost see my yellow bra through the almost-transparent smock, and though the gimmick was a bit dated, I nevertheless thought it was sexy.

For good measure, I partnered the outfit with what the tag said was a "saddle bag purse in orange leather, with brown strap, canvas stitching and gold hardware." Seemed a good match to my outfit. Also, it was a fairly large purse, which was a plus. I hated the usual tiny, rinky-dink girls' purses and bags.

The combination seemed pretty nice to me, especially with the yellow/tan/gold theme running throughout. But I don't know - the colors were definitely colors that Danielle would never have picked, but I liked em. But I had that fear that I was just being the stupid old boy that I was before, with no fashion sense at all.

But I needed to manage this alone - Danielle, Nikki and the others weren't around. And, besides, I needed to learn. I crossed my fingers and hoped my ensemble, regardless of the high-fashion Blumenfeld tags, were okay, and that I didn't look like a clown: meeting Sally while looking like a clown - not optimal.

As I was putting on my makeup, my phone beeped with an email from dad. Dad said he finished reviewing the contract, and he thought it was fine, but he had some additional provisions that he put under a section he called "Additional Provisions" (what else heehee). He said that these provisions were not negotiable, and, as my dad, he was standing firm on them.

"We'll see about that," I thought, although in reality, I knew I'll probably give in.

Continuing the email, dad also said that the financial part needed fixing - they were clearly undercutting me. Unless they were willing to multiply all the numbers by at least two, I should walk away immediately. The rates were probably okay if they hadn't insisted on exclusivity, and if the shooting schedule didn't exceed a week in total per month, but the fact is, they did.

I switched to Messages, and texted him asking, wasn't a 200% increase a little too much?

Dad replied that, assuming a Blumenfeld model worked one full twelve-hour day a week and a minimum $25 dollars per hour (which was the entry-rate for high fashion modeling), that means she would earn $15,600.00 a year minimum. And they were offering so much less. And it was dangerous since my rates would be a fixed rate for the rest of the year - They could work me like a dog and I wouldn't be compensated for all the extra time.

Also, the high end in the industry was about $300 per hour. So the median would be $150, or $93,000 for similar work-hours.

He texted back to say that multiplying Blumenfeld's offer by two will only just put my compensation at par with their standard fees for new models (he had been able to get Blumenfeld's data from his contacts). In fact, when he did some computing, even with a 300% increase, they would still be low but at least they'd be within "normal" rates. Of course, he said, I was a newbie, but the fact they wanted me, and they wanted exclusivity, that should be worth something. In his best estimation, he thinks I should earn fifty a year, excluding expenses, even though I was a newbie.

So I reluctantly agreed.

I noticed the time, so I booked an Uber Black before continuing with the back-and-forth.

Wait… I did some mental calculations. If dad's right… and FICA is about seven percent… withheld taxes around ten percent… But even with this… I was gonna be rich! Well, not filthy rich but fairly well off for someone my age that was still in school.

I danced a little dance of joy.

Going back to the email I saw dad had attached a version of the contract with his changes (he highlighted his changes in yellow), and he had also taken out the financial part, putting all that in a different file, and all the figures multiplied by two.

Dad said it was up to me if I wanted to increase the rates, but what he wrote would have be the base rates.

I looked at his other changes - he had specified Blumenfeld-related activities and events had to be pre-scheduled with me a month beforehand, all work-related expenses should be reimbursable, that total work hours per month shouldn't exceed fifty per month (and preferably only on the weekends), no work during holidays, exam days, and though the contract was for five years, the rates should be renegotiated every six months.

I was wrong - I liked his changes.

I upped the figures by 300% instead of the 200% Dad put in, added the "tough noogies" clause relating to Dannie (thank god I caught myself before I saved, and didn't name it that) and downloaded the two files down to my laptop.

"Danny!" my mom called from downstairs. "Your Uber's here!" I looked at my phone and, indeed, my driver was here.

I picked up my new shoes and put them on. They weren't difficult to put on - they were just booties, after all.

The mustard-colored mini-boots had a four-inch wedge heel, fixed fold-over cuffs and asymmetrical zipper hardware at the outer ankle, and they fit my feet just like a glove. Wonder who figured out my sizes over in Blumenfeld?

Grabbing my laptop, and dumping all the essentials in my "saddlebag" purse, I carefully walked downstairs as I got used to the shoes, and gave my mom a kiss on the cheek before I walked out the door.

This was the first time for mom to see me in full Robin Mode, and I suppose she couldn't get over it - she just looked at me slack-jawed. I giggled.

"Seeya later, Mrs. Fairchild!" I said, gave her a flying kiss, and went out to my Uber.

"Bye, Danny," mom called out belatedly. "I mean 'Robin!'"

And with my security following (it was Kelly again, in her Toyota), I went to meet with Sally.

- - - - -

***** (Sally) *****

I made a reservation at this fancy trattoria that I knew about. It was just a few blocks from the office, so it was ideal. Not to mention it was pretty fancy and romantic, and was the new favorite place of most of the fashionistas and the upwardly mobile in town. Robin and I might be the youngest there, but that shouldn't matter. I've had several dates there already, so I knew it was a pretty expensive place, even though I haven't paid for anything there yet. But then, why would I - if guys like to pay for my meals, why should I stop them?

I also asked Mrs. Piper's office assistant about the conference room at KRPQ - that since it was free the entire afternoon, was it okay if I reserved it, as well as the videoconferencing rig that they had. I also made sure that the people from Blumenfeld were available, too, and had confirmed our video appointment.

It was hard to get a reservation in the restaurant - even in the afternoon, the trattoria was almost full, but I got lucky. I confirmed Robin's and my reservation at the trattoria, and I got all dressed up and everything, picking my sexiest "conservative" outfit.

I did wonder why I was doing this. Thinking about it, I guess I wanted to impress her.

I sat at their bar as I waited for our table, and I looked outside, keeping my eye out for her.

In a while, a shiny black mercedes pulled up to the curb. And an angel stepped out.

Everyone outside on the sidewalk reacted to Robin. How could they not? This beautiful brunette creature in clothes like an angel's robes suddenly came into our midst, walking among us mere mortals. Blumenfeld's fashions really suited her.

She was so different from that time when she and Tracey covered the Jackson Building fire. There, she was all movement, motion, excitement and decisive action - like a female Indiana Jones (I would have said Lara Croft, but Lara felt a little snooty, especially with her accent, and Robin wasn't snooty at all).

Robin had a layer of sweat and grime and smoke and dirt that time. This time... This time she was so coifed and beautiful and charming and elegant - each move so poised and deliberate... But, you know, somehow she was still that action girl, too.

As everyone looked at her, she just smiled back in a friendly way, and I envied everyone she smiled at.

She saw me through the trattoria's window, waved and came in.

I gulped and waved back. For whatever reason, I was nervous. Deathly nervous. I had to stop myself from pulling out my compact and checking my face.

"Hey, girl," she said in that sexy, low voice of hers. I giggled - I couldn't help it.

"Hey, Robin," I said and bussed her cheek. "Where've you been?"

"Oh, just around."

The maitre'd signaled that our table was ready, and he walked us to a table that was roughly in the middle of the place.

"Hungry?" I asked as we sat, and then giggled. "What am I saying - of course, you're hungry. When are you ever not hungry?" One of the waitresses proffered a couple of menus.

"What can I get you ladies? A drink perhaps?" She looked a little embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, but I have to ask to see your…"

I waved her away. "Oh, don't worry. Can you give us a couple of virgin sangrias?"

The waitress smiled. "Of course. Just give me a minute."

We opened our menus, and I asked if I could order.

As soon as our waitress arrived with our sangrias in big Collins glasses, I ordered cesar salads to start - a half-plate for me, and a large one for Robin - with a basket of rosemary bread, the soup of the day, chicken parmigiana as the main, and tiramisu for dessert. All half-orders for me and full plates for Robin.

I guess ordering the food was a way for me to delay this inevitability - of having to talk to her. I mean, what can I say to her that won't sound ridiculous?

As I casted about looking for something to talk about, my eyes fell on her laptop peeking out of her big purse, and though I knew it's not something one really does on a date, I decided to bring up the matter of our contracts, which was supposedly the reason for our meeting.

I looked around, and no one had notebooks out, or tablets, or whatever - this wasn't a place where people worked, or brought electronic devices. And as we worked on Robin's computer, I saw the other people in the restaurant looking at us.

Wait… maybe they're looking at us for another reason…

Burying my irritation at all the attention, I just concentrated on what we were doing.

Robin said she was fine with the contract, but a friend of hers who knew about these kinds of things made some suggestions. She showed me these modifications, and I had to shake myself a bit to get myself to concentrate. I seem to be distracted.

So. A month's notice prior to any Blumenfeld-related work; modeling not to exceed an equivelant of seven days per month; and no work on holidays, and penalties attached.

"Hmmm…" I said. "Robin, I doubt if Sarah will agree to this."

"But why!" Robin said. "My da… friend… he said that, since they want an exclusive contract, I'm not gonna be able to do much anymore after I sign, and I'd be at their beck and call twenty-four seven. He said it'd be like legalized slavery."

"Wait… they want an exclusive contract?" I paged back the document.

"Well, I'll be," I said. "Apparently, our contracts are different. Here, let me show you mine." I popped out my contract on my phone, and handed it over.

"Let's see…" she said, and started paging through it. "Hmmm… You're right."

"Yeah. So, basically, unlike me, you can't do modeling or spokesperson-related work for another company or agency, and your contract is for five years - goddammit! Five years? And you can't do any modeling work for anyone else for at least three years, even if you quit Blumenfeld. Ohmigod…"

"Yeah, and it used to be that I would be available on a week's notice until we changed it."

"Robin, I think you need to modify these parts, too. I mean, don't you want to be able to work for other modeling agencies?"

She shrugged. "Well, I'm not really looking to be a model. So those details didn't really matter to me."

"I think they're taking advantage of you, Robin."

She looked at me. "What would you suggest?"

"Well, for one thing, contracts are usually yearly contracts. And non-compete clauses are sorta frowned upon by models. But, in any case, a three-month non-compete is pretty long already."

"Okay." She handed back my phone and I started typing on her computer, making changes on her contract. "Okay. I made the changes. How about the exclusivity thing?"

"Well, I don't know… I don't really mind?"

"Well, even if you don't you need to get something in exchange for that provision. I noticed you took out the financial stuff, so I don't know how much they're gonna give you. But it better be a lot. A one or two-year exclusivity clause is pretty much standard. And there has to be something major for you in exchange for that exclusivity."

"Sally…" she said tentatively. "You know that I saw the financial provisions in your contract. And… well, can I let you know what I learned?"

"Ummm, sure…"

"The regular modeling rates in the industry range from thirty-two to fifty thousand. You can even check. And Blumenfeld's normal rates are higher than the industry's, even for new models. My friend knows people, and he confirmed this. And since Blumenfeld has used you before, then they can't use the excuse that you're new…"

"Ahh… "

"You have to change the numbers."

"What would you suggest?"

"At least the basic rate. Okay?"

"But…"

"I know we can't make our contracts linked or dependent on each other, but I can show them that I'm behind you all the way. So they know it's a package deal."

"Thank you so much for that, Robin."

"S'all right." She leaned over and gave me a casual hug. "You're my friend."

I proceeded to change the financials in my contract according to Robin's suggestions, making the changes in yellow, and we had a pleasant… hmmm… I wonder if there's such a word as "dunch" - like if "brunch" is between breakfast and lunch, "dunch" could be the meal between lunch and dinner. Heehee.

It's funny, though, that Robin didn't talk much about herself, and we ended up talking more about me. Not that I minded - what girl didn't want to talk about herself?

I'm afraid I made a fool of myself again and talked too much, telling Robin about lots of humdrum things that happened in my little hometown of Spiral. But she seemed genuinely interested, and for that I'm grateful. Robin didn't need to do too much for me to like her. She is more than likeable, not to mention the most gorgeous girl I knew. I had to wonder why she didn't have a boyfriend. Or could it be she wasn't looking for a boyfriend? In the back of my mind, a kind of hope I didn't understand nor could I even acknowledge, grew. After all, I have always been hetero.

Eventually, we noticed the time, and if we still wanted to make our teleconference with the Blumenfeld people, we needed to get a move on.

I asked for the check and just handed over my card without looking. I was a little scandalized when Robin asked to have our stuff doggy-bagged. In such a classy place, who asks for their leftovers?

But the waitress smiled and commended Robin - so much food went to waste nowadays, she said, and it was pleasant that "the young miss helped by not contributing to that," she said.

One would think that she was being catty, but her voice was totally sincere.

I didn't add a tip to our bill and just left some cash. Robin, when she thought I wasn't looking, added an extra fifty to the tip. Didn't know if I should be glad or offended, but I think she was just being a nice customer. And who am I to complain - if we should come back to the restaurant, they'd remember us.

- - - - -

***** (Sally) *****

It was just a couple of blocks to the office, so we just walked. It was a bit late in the afternoon so there were more people out walking than earlier, although it still wasn't like rush hour. But there were enough that we couldn't help but notice all the admiring looks we were getting.

As a pretty girl, I've had my share of those, which, depending on who was looking, was either flattering or a bit creepy. In any case, I know that, this time, the majority of the stares were directed at Robin.

I didn't mind much, and, besides, I benefited from Robin's reflected hotness, but Robin seemed to find the attention from the strangers a little off-putting, and put her arm through mine for some assurance. I didn't mind that, too, and I just pulled her in closer and breathed in her sexy, slightly musky scent. I must ask what perfume she uses later.

She and I went to the building and to the security desk, noting there were no fans hanging out in the lobby or by the desk. It was the middle of the afternoon, after all, so they'll probably be gathering later.

After flashing our IDs to the new security guard, we proceeded to KRPQ. We waved hi to everyone, and signed in for the conference room. There, we found the most comfortable seats that faced the videocon camera, and Robin proceeded to hook up her laptop to the setup. I didn't know a thing about it, and just let her do it.

I did email my modified contract draft to her, so it could be displayed in case they wanted to talk about it.

So we dialed in, and after a minute or so, Sarah Michelle Rhodes' profile connected.

"Hello, Ms Tibbles, is that you? Hi, this is Mindy, Ms Rhodes' assistant - I mean Sarah. She's running a little late, and she said for me to start the ball rolling."

"Hi, Mindy," Robin waved. "Just call me Robin, okay?"

Mindy giggled and nodded.

I leaned in as well so I got into the shot, too.

"Hey, Mindy," I said.

"Hello, Ms Marshall," she said. "I mean Sally." She giggled again.

"Can I send you some files?" Robin asked.

"Files? Sure. But send it to my email address instead." She told us her email address, pulled a laptop to her, opened it and logged on.

Robin emailed our two modified contract drafts and we had a pleasant chit-chat as we waited for Sarah to come by.

It didn't take long for Sarah to come in.

"Hello girls," she said. "Sorry I'm late. I had a meeting with Edwin and my staff discussing the reshoot for the catalogue."

"You were?" I asked.

"Indeed," she replied. "We need to have the catalogue out as soon as possible, or else there'll be hell to pay." She sighed. "This is going to be one of the hardest reshoots ever."

Sarah looked at us. "That's why we need you girls to sign up, so we can start finalizing plans and schedules."

"Well," Robin said, "about that - Sally and I looked over the offer letters and contracts you sent, and we have some suggestions."

Mindy slid her laptop over to Sarah so she could look at it.

"That's Sally's," Mindy said, and Sarah nodded.

"We highlighted our suggestions," Robin said helpfully. This allowed Sally to zoom in on just the changes.

In a minute, Sarah was done. "Seems it's just the financials that you changed," she said.

I was about to explain, but she said, "Done!" before I could. "Welcome back to Blumenfeld House, Sally."

Robin and I grinned and high-fived each other.

"Now, for Robin's."

"Ummm, Sarah?" Robin said, "the changes in mine are a bit more complicated…"

Sarah nodded and opened the files.

"I'll start with the smaller file," she said, referring to Robin's compensation package, and we all giggled at that.

She nodded. "These are not a problem," she said. "The rates you put down were all reasonable. Tell me, what…"

"I had a short talk with someone," she said, and smiled craftily. "He told me about the standard rates in the industry, plus the modeling fees that Blumenfeld usually pays."

Sarah stopped for a moment. "I hope you realize, Robin, that what we sent was a preliminary offer. We weren't lowballing you or anything."

"Of course not," Robin said in a reasonable, serious tone. Of course, she was nudging me below the table outside of their view.

"These rates are quite reasonable. I'll talk to Ed later and maybe even improve on these numbers a bit more." She then turned to the other file.

"Hmmm…" Sarah said after she was through with it. "These are quite substantial changes, Robin," she commented. "And what's this under something called 'work restrictions?'"

Robin shrugged. "I'm sorry if I seem to be acting like a diva. It's nothing really. I heard from Sally that you made an offer to Dannie Fairchild. I'm not saying it's either her or me. But I think this is the only way to keep the peace."

"But, Robin, you were the one who recommended her in the first place…"

Robin shrugged. "I had a conversation with her yesterday, and let's just say that it didn't end well. I guess Dannie and I still haven't fixed our problems, and I think this is the only way we can both work for you until we can resolve our differences."

"But, Robin, this will make things really difficult."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm really not trying to make things difficult. But this is the only possible way. Trust me. Sincerely."

Sarah sighed. "I'm going to have to talk to Ed about that."

"What do you think of my other suggestions?"

"Well… they're pretty drastic."

"I understand, but I'm okay to discuss it whenever you want, just give me some notice, though."

Sarah sighed. "Actually, I think your modifications were actually okay, but they're kind of a major departure from our standard contract. If it were up to me, I wouldn't mind the changes, but we'll have to run them through our lawyers."

"Well," Robin shrugged, "like I said, we can talk about everything, except that thing with Dannie…"

"Robin…"

"Sorry, Sarah. It's non-negotiable."

"Well, okay. Guess I have some work to do. Can I call you later?"

"No prob."

With a final wave, Sarah switched off.

"Well… I guess that didn't go as well as it could have," Robin said. She shut down the monitor and other stuff, and we walked out of the room.

"I wouldn't say that," I said. "I think you caught Sarah by surprise, but I think she's considering your, ummm, 'suggestions.'"

She giggled along with me.

"What's with that thing with Dannie?" I asked, and she explained. Hmmm. I didn't notice any friction before - they actually seemed very good friends, maybe even close friends. Wonder what happened?

I looked up and saw the big clock on the wall.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "It's about time for my show! Can you stick around a bit? Maybe we can can talk some more after my show?"

"Sure!" she said, and shook the doggie bag from the restaurant. "I'll be in the break room having a snack."

I giggled, gave her a little kiss on the cheek and went to the booth.

to be continued...

 

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