Krista's job was to be the most beautiful girl in the universe.
This was her place in the natural order,
in the scheme of things.
It was a secret, like all great mysteries, but she kind of knew it anyway.
Pretty girls are strange like that.
She was so perfect, that if she was mutilated in a car accident,
Jupiter would fall straight out of the sky, and land on the Vatican.
Every cow on the planet would fart simultaneously, choking the world in methane.
The Chinese Government would play nice.
Krista looked goood.
She was far too self-satisfied to be likeable, though.
Her friends were transparent and shallow.
She didn't work.
A series of high-profile "one month stands" with very rich men guaranteed a life of extreme comfort.
She owned a yacht, and three apartments, as well as a black Lamborghini.
Krista was fast and single.
Just like meal-in a-minute microwave Cordon Bleu.
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