As Seen On Tv. Sarah Mlynowski

responsible one. Remember my client Howard? At Eden’s? He had the Hawaiian shirt and the jealous wife. He called me at 3:00 a.m. last night and told me that Sheena was in jail and that I had to find a new girl, pronto. We need to have four girls. Four girls, Sunny, four girls. I’ve been frantically trying to find a replacement all morning. Howard nixed the runner-ups. All of them. He said, ‘If I didn’t hire them the first time I saw them, why should I hire them now?’ But isn’t that the point of runner-ups? Anyway, he said to find someone new. So I’ve been searching for a lawyer or an investment banker, someone sexy yet serious, but no one wants to take a sabbatical from work, and even if someone could, her management probably won’t allow her to moonlight in case the show’s material reflects negatively on the firm. But we need someone capable. And then you called. Didn’t you always want to be on television? Be like Barbara Walters?”

      How did she remember that? “I don’t know—”

      “Do you believe in fate? I believe in fate. I called Howard, after remembering that he already met you. I told him you were a career woman, moving to the city and wouldn’t you be perfect and do you know what he said? Bring her in for a screen test.”

      “Really? Me?” Well, I never. He must have been impressed with my life-saving show at the restaurant. “He saw me do the Heimlich and thinks my life-saving skills will make me a good character?”

      “Um…no. He left before that happened. He decided he didn’t like their table and they went to Nobu instead. But he thought you were cute.”

      I’m oddly flattered. I catch my smiling reflection in the computer screen and attempt to make my smile TV appropriate. Am I showing too much teeth? How much teeth is too much teeth?

      “Are you in?”

      “I…um…” This is a bit psychotic. How can I be on TV? Who am I? Everyone has his or her own show, and who are they? But on Party Girls? The bubble gum of television?

      Why not? It’s a job in New York. “I do need a job. I could certainly use the money.”

      “Exactly. Although, I should tell you the show doesn’t pay much. But—”

      “What’s the salary?” Isn’t that the whole point in being a star? That you get to be rich?

      “There’s no salary per se. But there is a stipend of a thousand dollars. And there are a million perks. You’ll get a complete makeover. We’ll fix up that hair and the uneven skin. And we’ll definitely do something about those eyebrows.”

      Those eyebrows?

      “Plus,” Carrie continues, “because Party Girls is on TRS and TRS is owned by Metro United, you get tons of free stuff from everything Metro United owns. Including a thousand dollars a month clothing allowance at Stark’s, so twenty-five hundred in total for two and a half months. Isn’t that amazing? It’s amazing. And you’ll get fifty percent off any additional Stark’s purchases. They have everything there, Sunny. Everything. You can get a new couch. A sheepskin coat. Prada shoes. And since they pick up shipments around the country, I’m sure we can find a way for them to deliver your Florida furniture to your new Manhattan apartment. And Metro United, MU, also owns Gourmet Market. You haven’t tasted smoked turkey until you’ve bought some from their deli. You get a four-hundred-dollar expense account per month at any of their locations. And a free membership to Hardbody gym. There’s like one on every corner. They have spinning rooms, boxing rings and Pilates studios. They even have fantastic pools. Incredible, I know. Oh, and Metro United also owns Rooster Cosmetics. They make those fantastic facial-cleaning strips. And Purity tampons. You’ll get free Purity tampons. As many as you need. Sanitary products get expensive.”

      My pubic region clenches at the very mention of a Purity tampon.

      Free move? Clothing allowance? I could use that winter jacket. And Steve’s place could certainly use some new furniture. A lot of new furniture. A nice comfy bed, some lamps, blankets, candles…and a thousand dollars would pay for at least the first month of my rent…

      What’s wrong with my eyebrows?

      “It’s only ten weeks,” she continues. “Ten weeks. That’s it. Two and a half months of your time. And it only films once a week.”

      That’s great. All that for only one night a week? I’ll have tons of time for a real job. “So I’m free the rest of the time?”

      “Exactly. But Howard would prefer that his girls concentrate on the show and not work anywhere else. You’ll need to be free for press purposes. But you can certainly set up a job for after the show.”

      No work? “But how will I pay my share of the rent?”

      “Sunny, honey, big picture, big picture. Party Girls will make you high profile. You’ll meet everyone in the city. In ten weeks, companies will be begging you to work for them because of your contacts. You’ll know everyone in the bar and television industry. I couldn’t come up with a better career move for you if I tried. I’m kind of in human resources, remember? I know these things. You can put the stipend toward one month of rent. So you don’t pay December rent. You’ll cover food. And furniture. Can’t you borrow money from your dad?”

      I don’t borrow money from my dad. My mom had to beg my father for alimony. He made her defend every purchase she made for us for two years. My sister owes my father about thirty thousand dollars, and hates him and herself for it.

      I don’t ever want to depend on anyone else for money. For anything.

      But this is only ten weeks. I can depend on Steve for ten weeks, can’t I?

      “Your father thinks it’s a terrific idea,” she says.

      “He does?” Why do I have a feeling my father couldn’t care one way or the other?

      “Of course. Why not? He called it an incredible introduction to the city. And he’s happy we’ll get the chance to know each other all over again. Sunny, it’ll be a blast. What’s not to like? And I’ll be there with you every step of the way. Howard hired me full-time to help with the girls.”

      She’s absolutely right. Why not? “Okay,” I say, suddenly giddy. “Let me just call Steve and make sure it’s okay with him. He will be covering my rent.”

      “Really? Awesome. Okay, I’m sorry to rush you, but I have to know now. I’ll call you back in five. Okay? You’d really be saving my ass.” She hangs up the phone.

      I call Steve at the restaurant.

      “Hi, it’s me. Carrie offered me a job on a reality TV show in New York. It only pays a thousand dollars, but I’ll make amazing contacts. All I’d have to do is go to a bar once a week for a few hours and they’ll give us free food and free furniture and they’ll pay for my move. And it’s only ten weeks. But I have to tell them in five minutes. I’d be crazy not to, right?”

      I hear the clatter of clanking pots in the background. He must be in the kitchen. “They’re going to give you free stuff just to be on television?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Cool.”

      “But, Steve, I’ll need you to cover December’s rent.”

      “I told you I could cover a few months.”

      “You’re sure? You think I should do it?”

      “Why not? Sounds like a blast.”

      I pick up the ringing phone.

      “And?” Carrie says.

      “Why not.” Why not? It’s just one night a week for ten weeks. Not that a big a deal. Does anyone even watch TRS? It’ll be something funny to show my grandkids one day.

      “Great. Great! Filming starts in eight days. Next Saturday.”

      “Perfect. My last day of work is on Friday.” See, I am the goddess of timing.

      “We’ll