In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

"Yeah?" Ira sized her up with obvious skepticism.
"Ever been in front of the camera?"
"I work behind the scenes."
"Right. Well, not the way we work you don't. Exclusive
engagement, gotta work it, baby. Mediatization, you're nowhere without
it. You got any outstanding contracts? An agent? Who did your hair?"
"I'm living off a grant now, it's almost over, though. I'm an
independent agent."
"Are you! Whaddya gonna do when the money runs out?"
"I've been offered several teaching positions."
"You don't say. Well, we gotta have you twenty four seven,
understand? We'll talk money later."
He turned to Ula and Sandro. "Bin meaning t'askya, what's with
your buzzcut, girl? It looks great on the kid, excuse me, Dr. Bell, but
you gotta have hair. Bald isn't sexy, not on you it's not. Your nose is
too big, and your skull's dented. Ula baby, you're getting too old for this
sorta thing, you look like cancer! Grow it out, fast."
To Sandro, who was staring deep into his glass. "Whadda we
gonna do about the face? I already told ja, we can't show your face like
that, no way! You say you wanna dance in this gig? Ula's done fine solo,
you know that. An' I thought the knees were busted, wha' happened?"
"My knees are good now, no problem." He rattled the cubes,
and looked up, pale and tired until he remembered to flash the smile at
the lawyer.
"Fabulous, your English is better, kid, but the face, the beautiful
face. You gonna think about that?"
He tapped the cigar on the crystal ash tray, glanced at his Rolex,
swigged down the Scotch and opened his briefcase, tossing the CD into
a corner.
"Okay. I'm leaving you these papers, the usual. I gotta go, my
plane leaves for L.A. in three hours and they have ta X-ray my
Ferragamos. I'll see you guys in New York."
Snapping shut the case, he got up, and they all rose to shake his
hand. When Sandro switched his glass to his left hand, she saw the ring,
the same ring as Ula's minus the diamonds. How could she have missed
it? The psychedelic tie?
She sank back into the red chair, Absinthe fumes twirling out
her nostrils.
"My boy," Dick said, turning to his son in law and running his
hand up and down his back.
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