Isis: All About the Goddess Read online

  The timer beeps for the second time and I turn towards the two students sitting counterclockwise from Brody. I shift into a pose where I put one of my hands behind my head and stick out my hips. I start to feel the creative energy of the kids swirling around me as I meet the blue eyes of a sandy haired boy wearing a Superman T-shirt. He studies me for a good minute before sketching. Probably a comic book nerd. Usually those guys aren’t wrapped too tight. Another possibility for a suspect.

  The spiky haired redheaded girl sitting next to him wearing a yellow polo shirt and cargo pants smiles at me as she frantically sketches out her drawing. She smiles even more broadly as she makes eye contact with me and sketches with more passion. I think she likes what she sees. The vibe I get from her is friendly; I can probably drop her as a suspect.

  The timer beeps for a third time and while the kids change sheets on their sketch pads, I turn towards the next three kids in the circle and get into a pose where I stand with my right leg and my toes pointed out and a smile on my face. I feel myself glowing as I make eye contact with a husky golden brown colored boy in a green button down shirt and black jeans. He smiles back at me as he feels my energy. Definitely not a suspect. The Hispanic boy sitting next to him is also inspired; he seems to be in the zone along with the blonde-haired green-eyed White boy who makes precise gestures with his blue pencil.

  Time seems to fly as the timer beeps for the fourth time; I smile, stick out my chest, hold my head high and lean forward to make it look like I’m flying. The two Asian girls I’m looking at feel my energy as they diligently sketch their drawings. But from the indifferent vibe I’m getting from them, Marilyn isn’t that important to them. So I’ll scratch them off my list of suspects.

  The session for the fast sketches ends on the fifth beep of the timer; I take a moment to stretch before stepping off the X and having a seat on the cube. I cross my legs and put my hands in my lap. Professor Lewis sees my smile and smiles back at me approvingly. I think that’s how she wants me to pose.

  The timer beeps again and the kids start sketching. I let my mind wander hearing the sounds of blue pencils scratching on paper around me; it has me thinking about a warm summer day on the beach of the Island of Solitude. I’m imagining waves crashing into the beach and the warm sun radiating on my skin when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Wow. I can’t believe I was so in the zone I missed my cue.

  “Isis, you can go get dressed now.” Professor Lewis whispers to me.

  I can’t believe the class is over so soon. “Wow. Time really flies.” I say hopping off the cube.

  “I’d let you walk around the class and get a look at the students’ drawings, but you didn’t bring a robe with you.”

  Awww man. I really would’ve liked to seen how these aspiring young artists interpreted the lines of my slender dancer’s body. I’m definitely bringing my Japanese silk kimono with me tomorrow.

  “I don’t see what the problem is. They already saw me naked-”

  “Models can’t fraternize with students when they’re undraped. School policy.”

  Someone tell that to Brody. But I guess them making models wear robes when they walk around the room and socialize is their way of covering their butts regarding sexual harassment and sexual assault lawsuits.

  “If that’s the law of the land I’ve got to follow it.”

  “I’ll see if some of the students are willing to part with their sketches. If they are, I’ll show them to you tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow for the nine o’clock class.”

  “See you then.” I say strolling back into the dressing room.

  Chapter 8

  Okay…an entire roomful of people saw me naked. And it wasn’t as embarrassing as I thought it would be. While art model isn’t a career choice I’d pursue full time, I don’t think I’ll mind it for the time being.

  I close the door behind me as I hurry into the dressing room. When I finish getting dressed, I notice a piece of paper on the vanity that wasn’t there when I first stepped in here before. Could it be a change to my schedule?

  I pick up the warm piece of paper and grimace at the picture of a disfigured Marilyn with another message for her written under it with letters from a dozen different fonts:

  YOU THINK YOU’RE A STAR ON CAMPUS. I’M GONNA END YOUR CAREER HERE JUST LIKE TABATHA DID IN HOLLYWOOD.

  Looks like the stalker has struck again. And somehow they struck while I was posing in the studio.

  I head over to the exit door and give it a once-over. It doesn’t appear to be tampered with; from the look of the push lock in the middle of it, the door seems to lock from the inside with no way to get back in from the outside. So there’s no way for someone to come into the dressing room except coming through the front door of the studio. So how did the note get in here while we all were out there?

  I ponder the answer to that question as I rush out of the dressing room and stuff the paper in the front pocket of my bag. Obviously the stalker hadn’t heard of the schedule change this afternoon. But that still doesn’t explain how this paper wound up in a room with a door that opens from the inside.

  Chapter 9

  The mystery of how the note wound up in the dressing room has me asking questions I have no answers for as I turn the corner and march down the hall to the office of the Fine Arts Department. I know that paper wasn’t there when Marilyn was showing me the basics of modeling earlier this afternoon. And she didn’t bring it in with her. Could Professor Lewis have put it there?

  Nah, she doesn’t seem like the stalker type. And the way she gushed over me she seems to be a fan of celebrity models like Marilyn and myself. Besides, she was in the room with all of us while the kids were drawing and I was posing.

  But could she have put it in there before class started? No. The paper was still warm, so it had to have come off a printer just recently. But there don’t seem to be any other classrooms or offices in the vicinity of the studio C.

  The more questions I answer about the little mystery of these threatening notes the more I ask myself. I jot down mental notes to pursue in my investigation as I stroll into the office of the Fine Arts Department. Marilyn is so into what she’s watching on her computer terminal she doesn’t even hear me come in. Whatever it is, it must be quite engrossing.

  “What’s good on the cybertube TV Star?” I ask leaning on the counter of the reception desk.

  On hearing the question, Marilyn snaps to attention. Her eyes give me a mischievous smile. “Oh, just catching your fight on AFC War of the Gods.” Marilyn replies.

  Crap, I’m never gonna live this down. “It’s on YouTube?”

  “Yeah. Man, I can’t believe you climbed to the top of the cage!”

  When you’re being pursued by a crazy Greek goddess who wants to beat the crap out of you, you’ll do anything to get away from her. “It was all part of a strategy.” I spin.

  “Were the monitor and the steel chair a part of the strategy too?”

  I wish. I just wanted to do whatever it took to end the fight. “Well, when you’re in a fight that’s last woman standing, sometimes you have to use with what’s available to help you win.”

  “After being in a match that crazy, I don’t understand why you’re so nervous about of posing in the art studio. It seems like you’re bold enough to handle anything.”

  I’d have to say she’s more courageous than I ever was. Fighting a woman twice my size with my clothes on is a whole lot easier than being in a roomful of strangers with them off. “What can I say? I’m a little body conscious.”

  “Well, after a while you’ll get comfortable in your own skin.” Marilyn says slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Ready to go get that juice?”

  “Definitely.”

  Marilyn clicks out of YouTube and hops out of her seat at the reception desk. After we sign out for the day, I follow her out of the office, through the corridor, and into the lobby. When we push past the do
ors of the Fine Arts Building and head out onto the street, an eager Marilyn is ready to resume our conversation.

  “So how was your first class?” Marilyn asks.

  “It was okay.” I reply. “It wasn’t the horrifying experience I thought it would be.”

  “Horrifying?” Marilyn laughs. “They’re just kids looking to learn how to draw-”

  “I felt like there were a dozen sets of eyes watching me.”

  “Hey, if you think that’s scary try being nude on a set with co-stars, cameramen, prop people, make-up artists, directors, assistant directors, and production assistants-”

  “I thought All About Nikki was a family show-”

  “Nikki was a family show. But my movie Dark Ride wasn’t.”

  I can’t believe she had a movie. I’m gonna have to check YouTube to see if it’s up there. “So you’ve done nude scenes before?”

  “That was the first and last time I’ll ever do nude scenes in a movie.”

  “You sound like you didn’t enjoy the experience-”

  “I hated every minute of it.”

  “It was that bad?”

  “I wouldn’t have minded it if was artistic nudity. But every scene they had me undressed in was just for the sake of titillating 12-year-old boys.”

  The studio was probably just trying to turn her into another Black Jezebel. “Is that why we didn’t see you anywhere after Nikki got cancelled?”

  “That movie was the main reason my acting career stalled.”

  I’m about to ask how Marilyn about what happened to her after her show went off the air when she gets the door of the Jamba Juice bar on 16th Street for me. We approach the sales counter and the girl working there smiles at us before taking our order.

  “Hey Mari.” She greets. “Do you want your usual large Razzmatazz”?

  “Yeah Sara.” Marilyn replies. “And I’d like a large for my friend here too. What do you want Isis?”

  Did she just say I’m her friend? I mean, we do have a great vibe between each other. But if she’s calling me a friend this early on then we really must be connecting.

  I scan the menu and find something that sounds refreshing as an afternoon lying on the beach of the Island of Solitude. “I think I’ll take a Caribbean Passion.”

  “Your juices should be ready in about twenty minutes.” Sara tells us.

  “Great.” Marilyn says.

  While we wait for our beverages to be made, we have a seat at a table in the corner of the restaurant. I’m eager to find out how a TV star who was once a household name became an art model in a college studio.

  “Seems like you’re a popular person around here.”

  “Yeah. A lot of the kids going to school today used to watch the show when they were little. So to some of them it’s like going to school with Nikki.”

  “Even though you’re older.”

  “Not that much older. I’m only thirty-five.”

  I gasp on hearing Marilyn’s real age. With the show ending over seventeen years ago, I knew she was over thirty, but she doesn’t look a day past twenty. I dare to say she could still even pass for eighteen. I know good Black don’t crack, but I have to wonder if she’s got some New Heliopolitan in her bloodline to look this good.

  “You know you look a lot younger.”

  “That’s due to good genes, a plant based diet, exercise, and plastic surgery.”

  “So what happened to your face was real?” I say pulling the note out of my bag.

  Marilyn takes the note from me, scowls at the picture, and drops it back on the table. “I take it my stalker strikes again.”

  “Yeah. They left this note in the dressing room after I finished modeling.”

  Marilyn gives me a quizzed look. “How’d they put that in there?”

  “I’m still trying to figure it out. All I know is that it was still warm when I touched it.”

  “Like it came off a laser printer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a computer lab on the third floor. A lot of the students go there to print their term papers and digital art projects.”

  So they would have a high-resolution color laser printer there and probably a computer with all the fonts used on this note. But that still doesn’t explain why the page was still warm. It’s not much of a lead, but it’s worth a shot. “Can anyone use the computers there?”

  “Yeah, all the computers and printers there are free for anyone to use.”

  Great, I can definitely check that lead out tomorrow. I take the note off the table and I stuff it into my bag. Marilyn gives me a concerned look. “Don’t you think I should take this latest note to security?” She asks.

  They’ll just give her more of the run around if she gives it to them. Telling her she has to wait for them to do something before they can do something. I think I can actually catch this creep before they act on their threats. “Before you take it to security, I want to check some things out on campus.”

  Chapter 10

  I wonder what Isis is up to. The way she’s sounding it’s like she’s doing her own investigation. I know she’s pretty tough being a mixed martial arts fighter and all, but I don’t know if it’s smart for her to go around engaging a stalker.

  “I really think we should go to the campus police-”

  “And tip our hand to the crazy?” Isis says. “Whoever sent you this has slipped up. And I see an opportunity to catch them.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?”

  “I’ve got a lot of free time between classes.” Isis continues. “Time I can use to check out leads like this.”

  I look into her smiling brown eyes. Something in my gut tells me I can trust her. “You’re really going out of your way for someone you just met-”

  “Hey, that’s what friends do for each other.”

  Did she just call me a friend? I mean, I felt a vibe between us, but I didn’t think we were cool like that just yet. “Wow. People haven’t been this nice to me since I first came here-”

  “I’d like to think I’d be kinder to you than whoever gave you those scars on your face.”

  “You’re definitely nicer to me than Tabatha Strong.”

  Isis’ eyes grow wide on hearing the name of America’s sweetheart. “Tabatha Strong did this to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Isis gasps on hearing about my misfortune. “I never heard about that on the news-”

  “That’s because Apex Studios squashed the story.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know the media was that powerful-”

  Most people don’t know how powerful these Hollywood executives are. “If you have enough money behind you, you can bury bodies. Or have them sent away.”

  “Is that why you left Hollywood?”

  “Yeah. They paid me to go away so their blonde, blue-eyed White princess could be a star.”

  “The same princess currently featured on Celebrity Rehab-”

  “Hey, it’s their money. If they want to flush it down the toilet it’s on them.”

  “You don’t sound bitter about the screwjob they did on you-”

  “Nothing to be bitter about. It was God’s way of mysteriously working to get me here.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “A year ago, I was scraping by working odd jobs and comicons just to pay the taxes on my condo. Eating whatever my best friend Lucy could find in our church pantry, bumming detergent and tampons from my other best friend Shay, and sleeping in my panties because I couldn’t even afford pajamas.”

  “I don’t see how posing nude in an art studio is any better than that-”

  If she only knew how bad things were for me. If there was definition for Washed Up in the dictionary my picture would be right next to it. “I was headed on a downward spiral.” I continue. “Hoping, wishing, and praying for that big break that would take me back to stardom.”

  “Chasing a dream.”

  “Chasing a delusion.” I laugh. “Most of the auditions
for those two-bit direct-to-video productions I was chasing weren’t going to take me anywhere but further down the road to Hell.”

  “In spite of all your good intentions.”

  “At 34, I was over the hill in Hollywood. I just couldn’t see it.”

  “Wasting more precious time.”

  “Time I could have used to do something more productive like-”

  “Going to college?”

  “Posing in the studio is giving me a free ride towards an MBA.”

  “Aren’t you afraid employers are going to use your past against you when you graduate?”

  “Not really. If they don’t know all about me, they must be living under a rock.”

  “Still don’t you think it’ll look bad on your resume?”

  “Dude, I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done.” I continue. “I’m just another student working her way through college.”

  “I don’t think a boss would be comfortable having a woman who has posed nude working in their office-”

  If she only knew all about the scandalous hanky-panky going on behind the scenes at most of these corporate offices. “Some of these Hollywood executives I’ve had to deal with have done stuff that makes my posing nude look like being in a church choir.”

  “Like those bodies you say they have buried.”

  “Some of those guys have entire graveyards dedicated to their wrongdoings.”

  “So you’ve run into other crazy situations before your incident with Tabatha?”

  Crazy is an understatement. “I’ve had to deal with everything from coked up co-stars to executives exposing themselves to me.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a situation a good Christian girl would want to be in-”

  “Hey, just because they showed me their little dicks doesn’t mean I have to suck them.”

  “I take it your sticking to your religious convictions is one of the reasons you didn’t get a lot of parts.” Isis chuckles.