Revenge(27)

The worst part is, I can’t even talk to my best friend about any of this.

He would be worried for me, and tell me to come home immediately.

I can’t give up yet.

I can’t give up on my dreams, or I’ll always wonder.

The elevator doors open. I walk out of the building, into the bright sunshine, and start looking for the boutique.





Chapter 13


I wake up early Wednesday morning. There’s a flutter in my chest. I never understood about people having butterflies before today.

My first big meeting is at nine. I’m definitely nervous.

My hair won’t cooperate. I swear, even my hair is nervous. The right side has a stubborn curl, with my dark brown hair twirling up when I want it to go straight.

My new clothes are beautiful. Almost too beautiful.

I spent at least three hours at the clothing boutique yesterday. I’ve never spent that much money in one day, and I have to admit it was so much fun.

The ladies working at the boutique made it easy for me. As soon as I said I was one of “Stephanie’s girls,” they dove into action.

Now I have a new wardrobe, and most of it’s pink.

I’m still wearing the plain white cotton underwear I moved here with, but everything else is new and luxurious.

My black skirt is tight, from my knees to my waist. On top, I’m wearing a silk blouse. The blouse is hot pink, and makes my cheeks look flushed and healthy. Even without makeup, I look radiant.

My roommate is asleep down the hall. I can hear snoring through her door. It’s not just her snoring this morning, but a guy, too. I was in my room when she brought him home last night. They were talking loud and kissing in the hallway. I peeked out for a minute and saw them. I was disgusted to discover it wasn’t Caleb, the guy who was here Sunday morning.

I’m going to have to keep my bedroom door locked every night. I wish Amanda wasn’t so skanky. I want to like her as a friend, but bringing home all these guys is so wrong.

Standing in the bathroom, I reach up to put mascara on my eyelashes. The look in my eyes surprises me. I look really nervous. My eyes are wide open with the whites showing all around my brown irises. I look like I’ve had about ten cups of coffee.

Eye Candy.

That job title.

I’m nervous about being Eye Candy today.

Sure, my official title is Talent Coordinator, but Morris Music didn’t pay for a whole new wardrobe just so I could make phone calls.

I did some research last night on the internet, looking for clues. I didn’t find anything concrete, but I found some blogs that gave me ideas.

When big companies send staff to conventions, they hire “Booth Babes” or “Booth Bimbos.” These are attractive young women who are hired based on their looks. Their job is to make customers feel comfortable. Or maybe to flirt with them and make them feel nervous, but the right kind of nervous.

As Talent Coordinator/Eye Candy, my job in this morning’s meeting is to flirt with a musician. A musician named Brandon.

“Brandon,” I say to the bathroom mirror.

Just saying his name makes me feel sick. I glance over at the toilet in the room. Am I going to actually be sick? I wait for a minute. The feeling passes.

I get back to my makeup. The ladies at the boutique yesterday gave me some tips about eye shadow. I do my best to give myself a smoky eye.

At least my eye that got hit on the weekend is back to normal. It’s funny that I’m putting on eye shadow the color of a bruise.

For the finishing touch, I put on the necklace Stephanie gave me.

As I run my fingers over the beautiful key pendant, I wonder what kind of bonuses I could earn. How far do they want me to go?

Maggie Clark said something about seduction. I’m pretty sure that means sex.

I hold the key tight in my fist. No, I won’t have sex for money, no matter how much is offered.

Even though money would make a huge difference for me and for Nan, there are some things I can’t allow myself to do.

I can’t sell my soul.

The timer on my phone beeps to remind me I need to leave the house.

I walk down the hallway, past the sound of double snores in Amanda’s room.

My other roommate, Riley, still hasn’t returned from her trip. Her bedroom door has been locked the whole time. She’s lucky she has her own bathroom and doesn’t have to share with Amanda, who leaves her dirty underwear on the floor.

I run out the front door, lock up, and rush to the bus stop.

Today, my luck runs out.

The bus that was on time the previous two days doesn’t show up for ten minutes. When it does finally come, it’s full to capacity and the driver won’t let anyone else on.

I’m left standing at the curb.

After another ten minutes, I pull out my phone and look for the number of a taxi.