It's All Too Much

Chapter One

 Being a model was actually not as hard as it sounds. Although I’d been called “rabbit teeth,” “buck teeth,” and “gapped teeth” (it always had to do with my teeth), nowadays, most companies found me attractive even with my flaws. I’d been modeling mostly for Quant, a company ran by Mary Quant, but I hadn’t found it too exciting. Besides the dressing up in the fun clothes and exciting makeup, modeling was dull. We just stood around while people took pictures of us.

  Coincidentally, as I was a model, my boyfriend, Eric Swayne, was a photographer. He didn’t photograph me too often as a model, but he sure did love to take pictures of me around the house. He was a sweet guy, really, but he wasn’t enough for me.

  I’d started modeling about two years ago when I moved to London, only about seventeen at the time. Now I was nineteen, almost twenty. I was living with Eric on occasion, staying at his apartment sometimes, my apartment the others But Eric was barely around. Most of the time I was alone in the empty apartment. When Eric was gone, he tended to be away for a while. At this point in time, I hadn’t seen him in three weeks. We were growing apart, it seemed.

  I received a phone call one Thursday morning from an unknown number, and I picked it up nervously. Sometimes, other models that didn’t like me would disguise their voices and call me hateful names. Occasionally, the taunts would be so harsh that I’d end up in tears. I hadn’t told Eric about these hateful callers for fear of how angry he’d get. His anger often made us fight, as he got upset quite easily for what felt like no reason.

  As I picked up the phone, my hands shook. I hadn’t gotten one of those taunts in a while, and thankfully, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be harassed. But as I asked “hello?” I was relieved to find out it wasn’t a hate call.

  “Hello, is this Miss Boyd?”

  “Yes, it is. How can I help you?” I always tried to stay professional on the line; it could be a potential modeling gig.

  “Hi, we were just wondering if you’d stop by for an acting gig this Saturday at the train station.”

  “An acting gig?” I never did acting gigs. The thought of using my own voice scared me incredibly, as I hated the sound of it.

  “Yes. It’s for the Beatles’ film, a Hard Day’s Night.”

  The Beatles? I didn’t listen to the often, but I knew that right now, they were number one. Appearing in a film of theirs could show me off to magazines and other companies that might want me to sponsor them or appear for them. This could be great for my career. But the thought of speaking, and then having the whole world who watched the movie see it? That was dreadful.

  “An acting gig?” I repeated, gulping. “I usually don’t do acting gigs.”

 “We’re aware of that, Miss Boyd, but you’ll only be cast as a schoolgirl. All the rest of the school girls are models too. You won’t have any speaking lines, I assure you.”

  I sighed with content. “What time do I have to be at the station?”

  “Around nine o’clock in the morning. We have a costume, hair, and makeup crew, so you won’t need to do anything at home. It’s all taken care of. We’ll see you Saturday.”

  “Wait,” I said, still a little nervous about the situation. I had a few questions to ask. “How did you find me?”

  “Well,” the man on the other end of the line chuckled, “You’re quite famous, Miss Boyd. The boys themselves saw you in a magazine and requested we call to see if you were interested in the film. I’m sure they’ll be excited that you agreed. See you Saturday.”