He noticed a glass of orange juice beside the freckled model. She had taken nothing off of the buffet.
“At least you get your vitamin C,” Cecil said.
She pulled a cotton ball out of her pocket and dipped it into the glass of orange juice. “Helps fill my stomach.”
She slid the cotton ball into her mouth, pulling at the fibers of cloth and succulently tugging at it with her lips as if it were a marshmallow.
Cecil’s stomach came up in his mouth—a sour, acid taste. “When I was in high school, the most radical model diet was Atkins.”
“I mean, sometimes I get bloated, but the cotton digests eventually… We use tissues too.”
“But it’s a taste issue. Tissues sometimes are scented like air freshener, and they leave a chemical taste in your mouth.”
“This is disgusting. You can’t survive on cot
