Ginger

this story is about Ginger,.

She was 17 years old when the modelling agent discovered her, kicking stones into water on the LA beach. He found her, he needed to, or else he wouldn't have a job. No food for the kids, no child support, he would have to spend some time in daddy-day-care, a jail, just for the ones who couldn't make it. They'd torture you, he heard, and he definitely didn't want that to happen. He wanted to, literally, keep his balls.

Ginger didn't really understand. A determinism if you asked for sure. She had the model body already. Long legs, long arms, an alien head on a thin body. She could make them angle to however the photographer needed. She was NEXT material. And Henry found her.

She was in a two piece bathing suit and her hair in a bun. He ran to her as fast as he could, faster than he could. She was shocked, didn't know what happened, her mom was running to her and he gave her a card.

"Hello," he said, "I'm Jerry. I want to represent your daughter for a agency known as Next."

Ginger fell to the ground. Tears in her eyes. Her mom was shocked. Of course, how could you
say no? Ginger trusted Henry as soon as they met and he hired the top photographers in LA and New York. Ginger was a model. Officially. And her first job was an ad on Times Square. She would walk the catwalk and the money just kept piling in, checks and checks and Henry became rich and was no longer a nothing on the LA strip but he had a full roster of different models, both men and women.

Ginger would model for the next 4 years and then she just traveled around with her model boyfriend. A hunk of a man, same age as her and worked with Jerry as well. They went to Beijing, Tokyo, Rome, Paris, every singled fashion capital in the world.

And in each and every city she visited, she went to the beach and kicked stones into the water. With a smile on her face.