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She waves her hand the air as though, ta-dah, she has just revealed a magic trick.
“No deal,” Dillon shrugs.
I turn to him, surprised.
“No deal?” I repeat. “Actually, it sounds pretty good to me. Looks like she has thought of everything. Let's just go with it.”
He rubs his jaw with the palm of his hand, a shrewd look in his eyes. “I get to be there for everything,” he counters.
“No way,” she replies. “That's the problem. It’s exactly what got you in this mess. You guys need to show a little daylight between yourselves. Stop people from thinking about your latest scandal. Or your last one, for that matter. Or the one before that.”
“Yeah, sure, Dillon,” I agree, ignoring her frustrated huff. “Sounds good to me. We’ll make it work.”
“No!” she exclaims. “Do you two have a hearing problem? You're supposed to look normal. As in one-guy-one-girl normal. Just for a few weeks. Can you even do that?”
I drop to one knee in front of her, plucking her hand out of the air and holding it between mine. It's warm, like I'm holding a live baby seal between my palms. I feel it tremble, just slightly, but not because she's frightened. She's excited, and I know it. She’s a natural negotiator, able to keep her wits about her while swimming straight through a swarming shark pit.
Yet there is something in her eyes that holds her back. And just like a little baby seal, it inspires me to chase her. I absolutely have to find out what that tastes like.
“Listen, Bella,” I begin reasonably, “we’re willing to participate in your plan, but there are limits. Dillon and I, we're not like other men. Certainly not normal, everyday, regular men. So you can concoct whatever fantasy you want for Hannah, and Google, and Perez fucking Hilton. But Dillon and I do things our way. And that means... both of us.”
She swallows. I watch her throat clench, immediately picturing her lips wrapped around the base of my cock. That's going to happen. I'm sure of it.
“But you haven’t been straight with us. What are you getting out of this anyway?” I ask her in a whisper. “Certainly you are not doing it because you need a few more points to get into heaven?”
She shakes her head, pressing her lips together. It looks like she's going to answer a few times, then abandons the effort, then finally figures it out.
“All I want is a job,” she finally says. “All I want is to do my thing, my way. That's all.”
I sigh for a long time. Middle-class people have no imagination.
“Okay, Bella,” I answer her reasonably. “We’ll be asking that question again in a few weeks to see if you can come up with a better answer.”
“Fine,” she spits, narrowing her eyes shrewdly. “I want a book.”
“What?” Dillon asks, alarmed. “About us?”
“Hold on, hold on,” I say to him, lifting a hand like, wait. I search her face. Her lips are firmly pressed together, her eyes shiny with desire. “What kind of book?”
“I want to write about this… all of this,” the words tumble out in a rush. “This is my story, okay? Every moment, every detail.”
“Every detail?” I repeat, watching her courage increase with each passing second. So the baby seal has turned into quite the shark, herself.
She nods, avid but determined. “Everything — total autonomy. Complete creative control.”
I nod, understanding. My fingers stroke the back of her knee, and I can see the skin gathering there as she gets tiny goosebumps.
“You better make it a good story,” I suggest. “Beauty and the Beasts? Snow White and the two...um...?”
“I was thinking Cinderella,” she whispers. Her eyes track the path of my fingers, fascinated. She’s considering it, but she will take more convincing, I can tell.
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“And what do we get?” Dillon asks, dropping to the floor next to me. His hand slides up the arm of the leather chair, closing in. “If we help you with complete creative control?”
Lowering her chin, she looks at each of us slowly, in turn, sizing us up. I can tell she knows exactly what we want.
“Are you sure this room is totally private?” she asks hoarsely. Her pulse flutters at the pit of her throat.
