His ass looks nice in jeans, and my gaze lingers.
“You’re blushing again,” Juliet says.
“I know. It’s stupid.”
“Stop saying that,” she chastises. “You’re not stupid. Besides, it’s a healthy attraction. I’ll encourage it, even if it’s with the guy who taught me how to spit loogies when we were six.”
“Don’t encourage anything but me getting my life together,” I say. “Do you have Micah’s number? I hate that I don’t have any contacts on this.”
“Yep, sending that one too. He’s going to pee his pants when you call.”
“As long as he doesn’t ask me to work with my ex.” I’m done lying for these assholes. My fight to create a life outside of Arkansas had me running scared of every big name in the industry. Whatever they asked, I did. Playing by the antiquated rules, the unspoken demands. Not anymore. My name holds weight now, too. “I’m Louisa fucking Moreno.”
“Damn right, girl.”
As expected, Micah is excited to work with me. Being only seventeen when that first agency found me on Instagram, I couldn’t sign the contract with them until I turned eighteen. Because of that, my contracts have always expired around my birthday. Including the one I currently have with Carolyn.
It’s another reason she should have been taking my side and courting me to sign. She’s taken me for granted for the last time.
I tell Micah the truth. That the rumors of Pierre and me having some dramatic lover’s quarrel wasn’t accurate. I told him enough for him to understand the gravity. He, too, suggested we hire someone to handle any media attention.
“You get a fair contract worked up for me to sign the day mine expires; I’ll find the best PR team I can.”
“You have a deal, Louisa,” he says, his French accent strong when he says my name. “And know that I have your back. Pierre will be enemy number one around here, I promise you.”
“Thank you, Micah. I’ll be ready to work as soon as we ink that contract.” The words sound truer than they feel. Facing people who have likely been feeding the rumor mill is terrifying. But I know that if I don’t start to take control of this, Pierre will be the one writing the story of my life.
“Good, good. I’ll make sure we don’t commit to more than you’re comfortable with,” he promises. I laid out that I don’t want any long assignments. No more heavy bookings during Fashion Week.
Conquering the industry is no longer a goal. When I told Micah I wanted to be selective, he loved the idea. Being an elusive catch can be very lucrative, apparently.
“And this phone number doesn’t get shared. Not even with your assistant.”
“Understood, Louisa.”
With that conversation under my belt, I’m feeling more confident. Having someone support you is a good ego boost. As if I got a shot of serotonin straight in my ass, everything is clearer and makes more sense.
Vivian is my next call, and it goes just as well. She asks me to get my case file from the police, including any photos that were taken of me for evidence. Even the memory of them being taken sends shivers up my spine. Her wanting them for possible release to the press makes my stomach somersault until it is nothing but knots.
“It’s not your shame,” Juliet tells me when I express my concerns. “It’s his.”
“Keep reminding me of that, please.”
It’s not easy to believe. Not when I’ve been beaten down, mentally and sometimes physically, for so long. The worst things about myself are always easier to believe.
“Every day, babe,” she says.
By the end of the afternoon, I’ve also hired an attorney. As promised, Grady sent me a name, and she was exactly what I needed. Suzanne Stice immediately took charge. Within hours, she’d already obtained my police file and had a plan of attack. She’s forwarding pertinent information to Vivian and will only send me what I ask for in order to protect my carefully created safe space here in Stowaway.
It’s been exhausting and empowering.
I’m drained by the time we hear Grady’s truck pull up next door and the squeals of Paige.
“Auntie Jules!” Paige can be heard outside, making her way to Irma’s house.
“Wow, you’re so tall,” Juliet tells the girl when they meet at the door. “How does that keep happening?”
“I eat a lot of peas,” she says.
