“But I need this. I need you to help me,” he admits. Desperation looks good on him. To be honest, a burlap sack would look good on him.
“You need my help…” I echo, and he nods.
“You might find this hard to believe, but this industry is pretty hard on us models,”
“I do find that hard to believe,” I say dryly.
“I’m serious. It’s very competitive. Especially with all the new guys coming in.”
My lips tip into a smirk. “You mean the younger guys?” I ask.
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world,” he answers without answering. “Can I be frank with you?” he asks, stepping even closer. Close enough I can smell his fresh but sweet cologne. Close enough that if I wanted to, I could kiss him. Not that I really want to. Not really…
“I mean, it would be nice if we stopped doing the cha-cha in the parking lot. I am on the clock, you know,” I answer.
“Of course, of course. You see, my boss thinks that I need an edge. To stay on top, you know?” he asks.
“Of course…”
“And he thinks that having a girlfriend, you know, something serious, it would give me that edge. More committed and less–”
“Fuckboy,” I finish the sentence for him.
“I was going to say rebellious, but that works too.”
“So let me get this straight,” I say. “You’re losing your edge–”
“I didn’t say that exactly,”
“And you think that having a girlfriend will make you more desirable to all your thirsty fans. Because after all, people always want what they can’t have,” I say.
“I mean, when you put it that way, it makes even more sense than when he said it,” Zane says.
“Right.” I nod, tapping my finger on my chin in thought. “Yeah, I think I’m good,” I say as I walk around him.
“You’ll do it?” he asks.
“No. I mean, I’ll pass,” I say.
“But you just said I was cute.”
I look back at him with a small, saucy smirk. “I say a lot of things. My morals are a little murky, remember?”
With that, I walk off.
Right before I reach the door, I hear him call out.
“You don’t have to answer right away. Give it some thought. You’re cute too, but I don’t think orange is your color.”
The tiny smirk that was starting to tug on my lips flips down. I take a step inside and stop, watching as everyone backs away from their windows and goes back to their desks, pretending they weren’t all staring.
Jesus. I never thought working for the paparazzi would put me in the limelight. If I had, I probably would have found a different line of work.
I’m about to head back to my desk when Prudy cuts me off.
“Can we not right now?” I ask. “I’m not in the moo–”
“Deborah wants to talk to you,” she says, and I blink. “Well, don’t just stand there. She’s asking for you, and it sounds urgent.”
