Judy has always been a looker, though walking down the streets of Wilderbee Trailer Park, it’s hard not to be. Her brown hair falls effortlessly across her freckled covered shoulders. It has a natural wave to it. Her eyes are deep and brown-green. Her skin is pale, like the color of milk with melted ice would be. Judy always wears red lipstick to contrast her pale skin. If she didn’t, you would mistake her for a mannequin. She is old-school Hollywood. Judy really wants is to meet a gorgeous man, become a star and move to the city.
Judy gets most of her looks from her father, or at least she assumes. Her father walked out on her mother when she was three, leaving her to wonder what she had done wrong. Later on, Judy realized that he too wanted more than just T.V dinners on tiny fold out tables that mother laid out in front of the television every night. Judy’s mother couldn’t bare to miss M.A.S.H. Judy’s overweight mother only left the couch when she was younger to push her into every beauty pageant in the county attempting to live vicariously through her only daughter. She won almost every time, even with hand me downs and drag queen make-up.
Judy and her mother’s trailer sits on the corner of Sunshine Lane and a “Dead End” sign. This pretty much sums up her life thus far. The beige paint of the single wide is peeling. It has an obnoxious bright yellow door which matches the dandelions that have taken over the tiny unfenced yard. Judy’s mother swears it gives the house character. It’s hard to match any furniture when the “set” at the Goodwill comes from a yard sale and a dying woman’s estate. The air-conditioning unit hangs in the window sill. Judy’s mother only bought the damn thing so they wouldn’t appear to by the poorest of trailer trash.
Some years ago, Judy’s mother decided to put an “addition” on the single wide. She basically took an old shed, removed one side, insulated it with cheap materials and had the boy from down the street weld it to the trailer thus becoming the “spare bedroom”.
Judy’s room is filled with rusted trophies and crowns from her pageant days. The bedding and wallpaper of her tiny eight by eight bedroom looks like the inside of a card board box. There are no pictures on the wall and her mother refuses to let her paint or put her own style into this lavish room.
Today is the day. Judy spent most of the day getting ready. She dyed her hair with a cheap take home kit of Herbal Essence, Dark Ash Brown. She wanted to enrich her beautiful brown hair but left it in ten minutes too long and now she is trying to convince herself that it’s highlighted, not two-toned. She bought a new shade of red lipstick, the generic brand because she can’t afford the Cover Girl she knows she deserves. Judy’s mother calls it “street walker red”, but it makes Judy’s lips really pop, contrasting against her pale white skin. The “new” used dress is nice and the neutral colors draw the focus back up to her mouth which is by far her best asset.
“Well, I am off,” Judy says.
“Don’t forget to pick up some Hungry Man Dinners”, mother demands.
“I won’t,” Judy sighs.
“And don’t be home late, there is an M.A.S.H marathon on tonight,” mother says with a huge smile on her face, adjusting her one size fits all M.A.S.H t-shirt. Judy hates when clothes say that. By the looks of her mother, this clearly isn’t so.
“I can’t wait,” Judy says under her breath. She shuts the door behind her, hoping the storm that the Channel Five news has been talking about will come earlier and wipe out the power to the place.
It is only a ten minute walk from Judy’s trailer to downtown. Mothers’ car has been broken down for two years and sits in the car port. Judy doesn’t have a car, but when she gets one, it will be a nice one, with a sunroof.
She takes the same route passing a few coffee shops, banks, restaurants and a high end beauty salon called FAME, where all the people with money get their hair done.
“When are you going to come in and let me fix that mess you call hair,” the salon owner asks. “I can’t wait to get my hands on that thick brown hair.”
“When I hit it big Vera”. That is Judy’s stock answer when anyone wants her to spend money she doesn’t have. She wants to leave this town, that trailer, have money, and she knows that if she plays her cards right, she will.
Judy makes her way down the street. It’s early and the sun is shining on her pale face, giving it the flushed look she can never get quite right with makeup. The streets are starting to fill with people getting ready to go to their real jobs. Between the sun on her face and everyone staring at her, Judy knows that it is going to be a good day. It has to be. This is her big chance. She has to make a memorable impression.
After a short walk from the trailer park to downtown, Judy finally arrives at her destination. She takes a long deep breathe, smiles and walks through the doors. This is it, she thinks to herself.
The deli is new and very quaint. The people that eat there are well dressed and talk about gatherings at the country club and how everyone should go and see the movie that just came out about a mother beating cancer. Deep topics that only people with money or at least an education would talk about while waiting in line for their Sushi. Not “Judy people” at all. At least, not yet.
Collin is waiting behind the deli counter looking bored. He is so beautiful. He has brownish blond hair that lies perfectly atop his head. The over use of Vidal Sassoon hair products would look stupid on any other guy, but it works for him. He rarely speaks to anyone around him, and Judy is certain that he thinks he is to too good to be here. Collin is smart but comes off as arrogant. When he does speak, he uses words that anyone with less than a Bachelor’s degree aren’t be able to understand, but anything that is coming from his perfect lips is ok by Judy. When Collin smiles, it seems genuine, but that doesn’t happen very often.
“How can I help you Miss,” Collin asks. He is always straight to the point.
“How much is the Sushi today,” Judy asks with a sensual voice. One day, Judy will be able to afford Sushi at a real Chinese Steak House. For now, the pre-made California rolls from the deli will have to do.
“They are half off today,” Collin says with an uninterested look on his face.
“Half off huh? I’ll take them all,” Judy says, pouting her glossy red lips and batting her over mascaraed eyes, attempting to get Collins attention.
“Did you get punched in the mouth or something,” asks Collin in a low voice. He only mentions this beneath his breath so that Judy stops being so dramatic.
“Well yes… Yes I did!” she bursts out, overly verbalizing her emotions, a delusion she creates on the spot. A skill all great actresses possess. “It was horrible. I was walking down the street and on my way here a man wearing a mask tried to mug me. He reached for my purse and the only thing I could do was hit him with my shoe, which is now broken and he didn’t even flinch! He held me down and slapped me in my mouth the whole world seemed to be going in slow motion and I thought I was going to die as I cried and screamed, my life flashing before my eyes,” Judy rants, doing her best impression of Sally Field.
The whole room got quite. Collin stared at her with a confused, almost frightened look.
“CUT,” the Director yells from behind the camera. “Judy, this is not a scene from Steel Magnolias. It’s just a Sushi commercial. Just read your lines as they are written.”
As the camera crew guys get back into position and the extras stagger to get ready for the next shot, the director yells, “Ok. Let’s take it from the top.”
Judy walks back through the deli with her head down so no one can see the smile that is on her face. She thinks she nailed it. She goes outside, regroups, takes a long deep breathe, smiles and walks through the deli doors. This is it!