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And as for being a lawyer … well, that was a thing of the past. I realized I’d never pass the moral character requirement with my history of nudie photos, so what was the point of even trying? What was the point of even taking the bar exam, period?
“Jenna, you have to take it,” said my sister exasperatedly. “You’re so close! You’ve already graduated from law school it’s just the last thing before you get your license.”
Clearly she had no idea about my moral character problems.
“I dunno Tina,” I said carelessly. “I’m not really feeling it, the bar exam is six straight weeks of full-time study, I’m not sure if I want to spend my summer doing that.”
My twin made a face. “Seriously, don’t let this stuff about Jake get you down. I mean, engagements get broken up, it happens all the time.”
“Oh right, and you’re in such a great position to lecture me,” I spat. “You’re the one who stole my fiancé.”
“Jenna, I’m sorry,” said Tina. “It’s way more complicated than you think, I didn’t try to steal him per se. It just happened,” she shrugged helplessly.
But I wasn’t about to let it go. “Don’t tell me ‘it just happened,’” I hissed furiously. “I know you’ve always been jealous and that you wormed your way in like a fucking spy. To make up for your past transgressions, how about you sit the bar exam for me? You’ve been doing a ton of studying, you could probably pass it now already.”
“You know they check IDs,” reprimanded my sister, “and plus, it’s just plain amoral. What’s wrong with you Jenna? I mean, I never thought you were an angel, but you’ve really gone over the deep end. I mean, what about my bar exam? Who’s going to take my exam if I’m sitting for yours?” she asked plaintively.
“I dunno,” I said carelessly. “It’s not like you need the money now that you have Jake anyways,” I said, nearly choking on my spite.
Because the fact was I still hadn’t gotten over my immense anger at the turn of events. I’d come so close to my goal of landing a rich man, only to be foiled by my twin, leaving me penniless and broke once again.
So I’d taken matters into my own hands and transitioned. I’d graduated from law school but didn’t take the bar exam, forgoing membership in the California bar. Instead, I exploited my ever-growing image and became a public figure of sorts. My fame buoyed me, making me feel good about myself, the ever-growing attention addictive. I was that blonde, the one who was the flavor of the moment … and looking to prolong my time in the limelight. Angling for a shot at Sports Illustrated, my agents were already making the right calls, exploring connections, talking to their contacts.
But I’d never counted on meeting Rafe Connor.
6
Rafe
I had to have her. She was delicious, gorgeous, and sassy with an attitude that you don’t see in models often. Okay, so she wasn’t exactly cast in the high fashion mold, but there was a spark about her; a sense of life that animated everything she did.
I guess some designers don’t like that. They want their models to be clothes hangers, channeling the spirit of the collection, but Jenna will always be Jenna. That flying blonde hair, and the gleaming, glowing skin? She was 100% herself and I loved it.
I made my way backstage even though the show wasn’t over. The folks in charge knew who I was and made way, security letting me through, not bothering to check ID or anything of that sort. This was unusual because there were about twenty half-naked girls getting dressed backstage, their assets on display as they changed in and out of various outfits. Usually it was a total lock-out, to keep prying eyes away from the nubile female forms, but there are always exceptions for the boss.
I looked around and caught a glimpse of the blonde laughing with a make-up assistant. But before I could approach, I was accosted by a ravishing redhead. Angelique Domaine was also a rising star, a nom de plume for a girl with humble origins – Sarah Jane Moses from Dayton, Ohio.
“Hi Rafe!” she said brightly, placing a perfectly manicured hand on my sleeve. “Great to see you here!” she chirped. You can take the girl out of Ohio but you can’t take the Ohio out of the girl. Despite her exotically slanted eyes and ravishing red hair, her voice was as American as apple pie, her smile wide and Crest white.
“Hey Angelique,” I said courteously. “It’s nice to see you.” I’d taken her out a few times but hadn’t felt any spark. Sure, I’d ravished her, fucking that little pussy, but she just wasn’t my style. Angelique wasn’t tight enough down below. She was lean with a svelte body, but not snappy down there, where it counts.
