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Jason’s laugh rumbles up from his chest like an erupting volcano, shattering the early quiet of my office.
“Dude, you need to get over this stupid feud you and Allie have going on.”
I start to explain, “Every time I turn around, she’s there. She was even in Hunter’s gym this morning. It’s difficult. What if I want to bring a woman home? Allie would be a total cock-blocker.” I stop listing my grievances. I’m being a fucking idiot, spending too much of my time thinking about her. Again, I remove my glasses to scrub my eyes.
“Do you want to bring another woman home?” Jason asks with one brow quirked.
“Maybe,” I answer half-heartedly. He’s right; I’ve got no plans of bringing another woman home when my head is filled with thoughts of my roommate. Besides, he knows that I’d never bring a casual hookup back to my apartment. We’re alike in that respect. Our homes are our private personal space.
Just like the other night, I know I’m being completely unreasonable. I guess seeing her in the gym really threw me. More accurately, my physical reaction to seeing her in the gym this morning. Those lean toned muscles with gentle curves and the flawless beauty of her angelic face. I can’t help being tempted especially when I know she’s so much more than just a pretty face and sexy body.
It reminds me of high school. She was without a doubt the most beautiful girl in our grade. My friends were always asking me to put in a good word for them because they knew we were friendly. I never did. The truth was, I wanted her for myself. We seemed to connect on a deeper level when we hung out. We laughed at the same things and enjoyed playing the same games. But then when I finally found the courage to make a move and declare my feelings for her, she pushed me away. I couldn’t hang out with her anymore after that. I didn’t want to be a bystander to her dating some other guy, all the time wishing it was me.
It looks like I haven’t moved on and I’m still the obnoxious teenage boy Allie has accused me of being. Allie and I have been complicated for so long now I think our interactions have become more habit than for any other reason.
“How much longer?” Jason asks.
“Too long. At least there’s plenty of reasons to be stuck late at the office.”
He nods, then leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “Very true. And speaking of the auditors, what’s on the agenda for today?”
“More grilling questions no doubt and a line-by-line walkthrough of the marketing expenditure over the last financial year. Then that should be your part done.” I check my Rolex before pushing myself up to standing, gathering the bundle of papers strewn across my desk. “Come on, we don’t want to keep them waiting. Trust me when I say a pissed-off auditor means a shit load of extra work for us.”
Jason stands too. “Let’s get this over and done with, then.” Lucky for him, that should only take two hours. For me, it’s at least eight more.
Minutes later, we are walking into the conference room side by side. I square my shoulders, taking full advantage of my height and stride to the chair at the head of the large oval table. My entrance has drawn the gazes of every one of the men and women assembled. My game face is in place and a look at each of them tells me they know exactly who’s running this show. Good. While we have mutual respect and trust for the job that we each have to do, this is my domain.
I pull my don’t fucking mess with me mask on over my features. My brothers think I don’t like people, when really it’s just I’m particular about who I spend my time with.
Chapter five
Allie
“Turn left. Now right. Head back. Lift your arm.”
Dozens of instructions that I feel like I’ve heard a million times over the years. Whether they are being shouted at me by a photographer like today, fashion designers, or directors, they all have demands and I’ll be glad when I don’t have to react to them.
Almost instinctively I move to the shouted directions, quickly changing poses. I’ve done countless photoshoots over the years and feel confident he’ll get exactly the shots that he wants. It’s hard to remember back to a time when I was physically sick at the prospect of posing like today. Now, it’s all just more of the same old thing. Endless hours spent sitting in makeup chairs, all so I can hold a series of back aching poses under blindingly bright lights. I’d rather be strutting along a runway for the rich and famous. At least when I do a show there’s a buzz of excitement in the air and at the end the crowd’s appreciation is a real adrenaline hit.
“Turn around. Over your shoulder,” he commands, and I do exactly as I’m asked, barely needing to think.
I’m not enjoying this anymore. The thrill of wearing beautiful clothes, traveling to exotic locations, and sipping cocktails with the elite has lost its glamorous appeal. My thirtieth birthday is looming, and I don’t want to continue to live my life behind this superficial heavily made-up mask. It all feels fake and it’s time to get real.
The silver sequined dress I’m wearing scratches annoyingly against my skin with another turn.
What I’d rather have on is my favorite black Gucci jeans with a soft comfortable T-shirt. And I’d rather be hanging out with my friends. The people who care about me, like Katie, Sarah, Dana, and even Logan. For all his bluster and taunts over the years, I know he cares. Probably more than he wants to.
He thinks I haven’t noticed, but I’ve caught him watching me over the years when we’ve occasionally found ourselves at the same glitzy society functions. His eyes burning into me from across a crowded room are hard to ignore. He even came to my rescue last year when a jerk wouldn’t leave me alone at the family’s annual charity gala. Logan appeared at my side like my own personal bodyguard. Not touching. Not speaking. Just standing close and staring intimidatingly at the jerk. He could scare anyone away with one of his fierce glares.
The photographer barks out some more orders in his thick Germanic accent, dragging my head reluctantly back into the moment. Surely by now he has the images he needs. This is going on a lot longer than it should.
But then just when I think we’re nearly done. “Wait,” he bellows, and everyone immediately freezes like we’re a bunch of children playing statues. With all eyes on him, he holds up a long spindly finger and says, “One moment,” then rushes from the room.
I look to his assistant, and she shrugs like she’s seen this all before. The makeup lady and hairstylist spring into action, hovering around me touching up my already perfect makeup and layering another thick coating of spray over the already stiffened waves of my hair. I can’t wait to get in a hot shower to wash away all this product covering me from head to toe.
Modeling at times can be a test of endurance and today seems to be one of those days. I focus on the room’s back wall while a makeup brush is swept across each of my cheekbones. Today it all feels like a struggle to maintain my composure while inside I’m crawling out of my skin with desperation for this to all be done. Done for good. No more in front of the camera; instead, I’m going to be moving behind it. I’ll be the one barking out the orders. No that’s not true, I will be much more considerate to my models.
Ten minutes later and we are all still waiting. I’m uncomfortable, hot, and I want to be out of here.
