After modeling the sundress I was directed to wear for Mrs. Glover’s granddaughter’s birthday party on Sunday, I was glued to the telephone for two consecutive phone calls. One I made to Mom back home in Port Jefferson, just to tell her I had arrived safely. Sitting on the sofa in the living room, still wearing the sundress and admiring my feet in Candie’s Cherry Red Wedge Slides. I was pretty confident I could walk in these without falling flat on my face. I replaced my prescription glasses with Aunt Lori’s Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. Mom probably imagined I was still wearing the outfit I had on in the car this morning, going to the airport.

“Maybe your Dad will bring you up to Santa Barbara for a couple of weeks. Or longer. Don’t they have summer interns at his firm?”

“I don’t hear anything, sweetie. Oh well, be a good boy. Don’t cause your Dad any more stress than he needs.”

Five minutes later, as I was halfway through changing out of the sundress and reluctantly resuming my boy mode, Lori appeared in the doorway of my bedroom.

“Joey, it’s your Dad on the phone.”

“Hallelujah! The return of the prodigal father.” In my bare feet, I strolled back into the living room, wearing my bra and panties. I plopped down on the sofa as Lori handed me the phone.

“Hello, Dad,” I said with a total lack of warmth.

“Okay, sport. Just give the phone back to Lori, if you would. I need to discuss some logistics with her. Briefly. Very briefly.”

“Remember your purse, Joey,” Lori reminded as she stood at the front door, waiting for me to finally finish dressing. We were headed out to the Galleria for a pizza dinner at Perry’s Pizza. I had no idea at the time that Perry’s Pizza and the Galleria itself would become world famous for being an integral part of Fast Times at Ridgemont High. But the movie wouldn’t premiere until August, several weeks later. I took one last look at myself in the full-length mirror. I was wearing high-waisted stone-washed jeans and, on top of an E.T. t-shirt, a stone-washed cut-off jeans jacket. I played around with the collar before deciding to leave it down. And I remembered to pick up my purse, a cross-body bag with a monogrammed “J” on the flap.

“Sorry, I was admiring myself in the mirror.”

“You’re entitled. This is the summer of Josephine Prentiss, teenage ingenue!”

“Ugh, that’s a terrible name, Lori.”

“Got a better one in mind?”

“I think I look like an Emily.”

“I don’t see you as an Emily”

The phone rang.

“Perfect timing,” Lori sighed. She picked up the handset.

“Hello. Yes, he’s right here. Whom may I say is calling?”

She placed her hand over the transmitter. “It’s Rafe Metheny.”

“Hello, Rafe. How did you get this number?”

“If you say so. I’ll let you go, Joey. See you next month!”

It was a little after 1PM on Sunday afternoon when we climbed up the driveway of Mrs. Glover’s mansion in the fabulously wealthy Palos Verdes Estates, southwest of downtown Los Angeles on a peninsula that edges out to the Pacific Ocean. Lori was driving Dad’s new Toyota Land Cruiser, an ugly chocolate brown monstrosity of automotive design, because it had room for everything she was bringing to the party: a box of Japanese plush dolls based on some popular TV cartoon show, the newest electronics rage – a dozen Sony Walkmans, and Dad’s stereo components (unbeknownst to Dad, of course). Everything else, like food, the cake, outdoor furniture, a tent to shade little girly complexions from the sun, and Mrs. Glover’s personal contribution, makeup kits from her new line of tween and teen cosmetics, named after her granddaughter Emily. Always good business to mix a little product promotion with your granddaughter’s birthday party.

Mrs. Glover was the CEO and founder of Lady Belle Cosmetics, named after her daughter Belle, the mother of Emily and her older brother, Blaise. The one Lori promised would barricade himself in his room the entire afternoon. There was a Mr. Glover, who left his used car dealership in Van Nuys to handle the business end of the enterprise some 25 years ago when his ex-model wife decided to start a cosmetics empire out of their garage in Pacoima. Lori had started working for Mrs. Glover about two years ago, writing advertising copy, supervising artwork with her small staff of three, and designing in-store displays. You could see Lori’s store displays for Lady Belle Cosmetics all the way from San Diego to Sacramento in Northern California. Mrs. Glover, at 62, had ambitions to expand her territory to the Pacific Northwest and East to Arizona and Nevada.

“So, why are Emily and Blaise living with their grandparents?” I asked Lori as she deftly avoided the caterer’s van that was leaving the property.

“Well, the catering was delivered. That’s one less thing to worry about. As for why they’re living with Mr. and Mrs. Glover, it’s a long, even sordid story.”

“I could ask Emily—”

“Don’t you dare, Joey! Don’t be a snoop. It’s not polite.”

“Aren’t we going to carry the stuff in?”

“No, silly, rich people like the Glovers have domestic help. We’ll just check in with Mrs. Glover.”

Once inside, Lupita, one of the Glovers’ maids, told us Mrs. Glover was in the kitchen inspecting all the food the caterers had just delivered.

As we walked past, I whispered to Lori, “I hope she’s had her Wheaties this morning.”

Doris Glover greeted us in the kitchen. She gave me more than just a once-over, her eyes lingering on me, even as she engaged in conversation with Lori. I was impressed by her youthful appearance for a woman in her early 60s. Her catalog model looks were still intact, perhaps aided by her own cosmetics. It would be interesting to see how much of her genes made it two generations downwind.

“You brought everything, Lori? The items for the goodie bags. The Walkmans? Oh, and the stereo system?”

“It’s all in the back of my car. Who did you get to DJ?”

“I convinced Blaise that he should be a good older brother and help out with his sister’s party. He said he’d do it if we got him a top-of-the-line stereo system. What do I know about stereo systems, Lori? That’s why I asked if you could borrow your boyfriend’s stereo. He was bragging about it at the Christmas party.”

“Well, I didn’t actually get to ask him. He’s been in Santa Barbara on business the last few weeks. Like they say, what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Can you get some of your staff to carry our stuff in?” Lori asked.

“Oh, Blaise can do that for you. In fact, I hear him stomping down the stairs right now. That boy drinks more liquids than a human bladder can hold, I swear.”

The aforementioned Blaise Howarth walked into the kitchen, gave us all nary a sign that he was aware we shared the same space. Took a tall glass out of the cupboard and filled it with ice water from the dispenser in the front of the fridge. He was about to take his first gulp of water when he turned around and saw us. His grandmother introduced me specifically as we had never met. He obviously knew Lori.

Absentmindedly, holding his glass of water in his right hand, he extended his left hand to shake. I followed suit and fit my small left hand into his much larger mitt. His expression was one of surprise mixed with attraction. I blushed and looked away.

“You can release the young lady’s hand now, Blaise. You are so socially backward,” sighed Mrs. Glover. “Now go help Joey…is that short for Josephine?”

“No, Mrs. Glover. It’s Joey. Just Joey,” I replied.

“Your parents should be embarrassed giving such a beautiful girl a decidedly masculine name like that. Oh well, is there no decorum in these latter days? Now you two go bring in Lori’s things. Lori and I will see if the yard is set up properly.”

The yard was a human beehive of activity. Domestic staff was positioning tables and chairs while four of Mrs. Glover’s sales reps were setting up vanity booths under the big tent, ready to apply makeup to the faces of thirteen giggling 12-year-olds. Inside the house, Lupita was filling the goodie bags with plush dolls, Sony Walkmans, Lady Emily makeup kits, and boxes of Nerds and Skittles. That’s better than the goodie bags at The Oscars!

I watched as Blaise set up Dad’s stereo system, listening to him rattling off the names of all the components.

“Linn Sondek LP12 turntable. Nice. FET-One preamp and Threshold Stasis-1 amplifier. Sweet. Oh, wow! Nakamichi Dragon cassette deck! Top of the line! Steve Jobs has one of these. Just released this year. And for the pièce de résistance, the speakers are Acoustat Monitor 3 planar magnetic panels! Your Dad must be an audiophile.”

“He’s something alright. Speaking of my Dad, what’s with you and Emily living with your grandparents? Where’s your mom and dad? Is it okay to ask?”

Blaise shrugged. “Sure. It’s no secret. My Mom is the Belle in Lady Belle Cosmetics. She met my father in college. I guess they were like beatniks or early hippies. You know free love and grass and everything. They had me and got pressured to get married. My grandparents were not amused that I was born out of wedlock. Problem is they were both art majors in school. You can’t make a living with a degree in art unless you teach or work in a museum. Mom started working part-time for grandmother. Clerical stuff. And Dad photographed weddings and baptisms.

Cut to the chase. They were incredibly unhappy and bored with each other. Finally, when Emily was like 3 or 4, they decided to split up. Dad got a break and started working as staff photographer for a big travel magazine. But that meant traveling 8-9 months a year. And Mom decided to become a full-time painter. She moved to an artists’ colony in Mexico. She’s still there. That left us on grandmother’s doorstep. Could be worse, I guess. Emily’s doing fine. Me, not so much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But, just like me and my situation, you’re heading off to college. You’re free. You can be whomever you want to be. So, what’s your big interest in life? Sounds like it’s music.”

“I don’t have the grades to get into a 4 year college. I’ll probably go to community college in Torrance. Grandmother can keep an eye on me since it’s only ten miles away. Say, why don’t we test the system? I’ve got a cassette here that’ll put it throughits paces.” He reached into his backpack and handed it to me.

“Ozzy Osbourne. Crazy Train? You’ll blow the speakers!”

“Don’t worry. The max limit on these babies is 125 dB. Plenty of head room.”

“I’m worried about everyone’s eardrums.”

“Blaise!” Mrs. Glover’s voice thundered. “Turn off that crazy music! You’re scaring my household staff. Lupita thinks she heard the voice of the devil…”

Punctually at 2 o’clock, a dozen shrieking, giggling, boisterous 12 year old girls bounced off a luxury bus and sauntered into the vast grounds of the Glover estate. They came bearing birthday gifts which they piled onto a table before surrounding the birthday girl, Emily Howarth, beaming as they group-hugged.

“That’s more like it, Blaise. A cute song,” nodded Mrs. Glover, as she watched the girls dancing and giggling.

“It wasn’t my idea. Joey suggested it,” Blaise admitted.

“Well, good choice, Miss Prentiss. At least someone has an ear for appropriate background music. Mind you, I suppose that crazy song—”

“Crazy Train, grandma.”

“Whatever. Carry on. We’re going to start the makeup sessions now. Do you want to watch, Joey? My salesgirls are always getting recruited for the makeup departments at major film studios and TV networks. Of course, they prefer using my cosmetics lines.”

“Before you go, Joey, give me a list of songs to play,” Blaise begged.

“That might be a good idea, Joey,” Mrs. Glover said, walking away toward the vanity booths.

“I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, I Melt With You, I Can’t Go For That, Don’t You Want Me, Shake It Up, and…Harden My Heart,” I rattled off confidently.

“You’re secretly a 12 year old girl, aren’t you?” laughed Blaise.

“You have no idea,” I countered.

Emily was the last girl to get made up, so there were three booths left empty. Lori took me by the shoulders and plopped me into a chair, cackling in my ear as she took great pleasure in further embarrassing me that afternoon. The sales rep was examining my face to see what witchery she could perform on it.

“She’s a tomboy, Sally,” Lori announced. “I leave her in your talented hands. I’ve done all I can but you’re a professional. Can you save this girl?”

“Don’t be melodramatic, Lori. Joey has very nice, clear skin. And, obviously, she’s very pretty. Betcha all the boys back home ask you out all the time.”

“Oh yeah, I have to beat them off with a stick. No, not really, I don’t get asked out at all.”

“I don’t believe that. Maybe your standards are too high. Do you like Blaise?” After gently cleansing my face, Sally applied a light, hydrating moisturizer.

“He’s alright. Do you mean like like? I’m just here for the summer. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

“A lot of the younger girls in the office think he’s super cute,” Sally noted as she blended some concealer on some “problem areas” with a damp sponge.

“The way he’s been sneaking looks at you all day, I’d say he’s very interested in you, Joey,” teased Lori.

I blushed uncontrollably. “Well, we can skip the liquid blush. Your cheeks are apple red right now on their own,” Sally laughed.

I pouted silently as the teasing lost steam. Both Lori and Sally decided to have mercy on me. My eyebrows were brushed upwards with a spoolie and set in place with a gel. Sally hesitated before deciding I didn’t need eyeshadow. Next, she applied a clear mascara to my top lashes after using an eyelash curler on them. Finally, she finished my look with a sheer pink lip gloss. Sally directed me to check out her work in the mirror.

“Oh my god, I’m like a different person. You really are good, Sally. Thank you!”

“Great. Now go and show Blaise my handiwork.”

“Too late. They’re bringing out the cake and assorted munchies. C’mon, I’m hungry,” Lori squealed.

I was wondering if my distended belly could be seen underneath my sundress. I had eaten too much cake and assorted pastries. The ice cream cone was a bridge too far. I slumped into a chair as Mr. Glover appeared out of nowhere with a Polaroid camera and several rolls of film. He started to take photos of Emily and her friends, showing off their professional makeup jobs. That’s the great thing about Polaroids. Instant gratification. No need to wait several days while the film lab develops each shot.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be out fishing,” I asked Lori.

“Fishing’s in the morning, city girl. He always planned to show up with the camera at the end of the party. He’s a sweet old guy.”

The girls said their goodbyes as they were handed their goodie bags. I was a little envious. I’d never been given a birthday party of this magnitude when I was a 12 year old girl. Well, I wasn’t a 12 year old girl. At least, not to anyone other than myself.

“Time to go home, Joey,” Lori said as she helped me out of my chair.

“I know I’ve just eaten half a bakery but I’m really hankering for Mexican tonight. Can we go to Casa Vega on Ventura? I’ve heard good things about it.” I gave her my best puppy dog eyes look.

Lupita approached us as Lori was about to reply.

“Miss Lori and Miss Joey, Mrs. Glover would like to speak to you in her office. Come with me, please.”

“Uh oh, what did we do?” I whispered.

“I thought everything went well, didn’t it?” Lori asked uncertainly.