His Gift 1(5)

But bullies? Especially female bullies? I couldn’t take them. Maybe it was being bullied through my preteens. It had gotten so bad that I was taking more sick days off of school than going. My parents eventually pulled me out of school and I finished my GED on my own.

Whenever another woman looked at me with that look, something inside of me turned back into a little girl, and not the brave one my mom knew. The scared one who ran and hid in the bathroom to cry during class.

Another benefit to not wearing makeup: you don’t utterly mess up your face with mascara when you cry.

“I thought all the whores stayed in the bad part of the city,” she murmured to her friend, just loud enough that I could hear.

My face turned bright red and I turned away quickly, hugging the cake in my arms. My Iowa upbringing had done nothing to prepare me for being called a whore by another woman.

“Are you girls going up to the party?”

A man dressed in an expensive looking suit waved in my direction. I stepped forward, making sure to avoid the blonde supermodel who’d called me a whore.

“Please come through this way,” he said, motioning to a side entrance. I hung back and went through the doorway near to last. All of the other girls were dressed in gorgeous gowns of every color, and they were all at least half a foot taller than me, in even taller heels. It was a parade of models.

I slunk in after them, holding the cake in front of me like a shield. There was a good reason I was there. Even if I wasn’t a runway model. I held my head high. This was a two thousand dollar cake I was carrying, after all.

The girls congregated near a table at the end of the hallway. The table was covered in clipboards.

“Everyone must sign the waiver form before going up to the elevator,” the man said. He sounded bored.

I set the cake down carefully on the edge of the table that was empty, and picked up one of the clipboards.

The form was three pages long, and all of the other girls were busy initialing and signing in the appropriate spots. I glanced down at the first page.

“…signee agrees to waive all personal liability on account of the owner…”

“…in signing, agrees to complete non-disclosure under severe penalty and prosecution of law…”

“…strict dress code, enforceable and negotiable only at the discretion of the owner…”

I flipped to the next page. Things got even weirder.

“…will not speak unless spoken to…”

“…signee must obey all orders given…”

I looked up to see the first few girls already handing their forms in. They gathered near a marble elevator door where the man in the suit motioned them toward. The elevator doors opened and the girls disappeared into the building.

I picked up Steph’s cake and stepped forward to the man in the suit.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Is this the entrance for the party—”

“Is your form done?”

“Uh, no. Do I need to do that? I’m just—”

“Everyone needs to fill out the form,” the man said. He looked down at me with irritation. “Or you can find another way up.”

“Sure,” I said, slinking back to the table. Whatever. I just needed to get in and out so I could get to my new job.

Everybody else was finishing up and there were only a few clipboards left. I grabbed one and signed all of the blank spots quickly, then handed it over to the man in the suit.

“On the elevator, please,” he said. I got in, pressing myself back against the side of the elevator along with a half dozen other girls. The elevator swooped upwards quickly, leaving my stomach down on the first floor.

The elevator was made of glass, and as we lifted past the first few stories I gasped. I hadn’t realized what was so obvious. If I could see the elevators from outside, the elevators could see out.

I could see all of New York!

The elevator shaft was made of glass panels, and we looked out onto the city with all its glimmering lights and narrow alleys where darkness hides. The floor, too, was glass.

Oh, jeez.

My palms turned clammy with fear. All of the blood in my body sucked down into my feet, and I felt like I was going to collapse. God, I felt so vulnerable in a dress. I couldn’t run in heels. As we rose higher and higher, I gulped air and tried not to look directly down.

My fingers were sweating, but I held the cake firmly in my grasp. I was not going to let anything get in the way of delivering this cake successfully. Steph was counting on me.

I heard a giggle, and looked up to see the tall blonde woman staring daggers at me. Her friend was the one laughing. I flushed again and averted my eyes.

“You’re not going to the party, are you?” the friend said. She wasn’t—yep. She was talking to me.