I rub a finger to my temple. I didn’t really think about that part. “I thought he’d just gloss over it.”
“You’re kind of hard to forget. You seriously think he’ll act like he doesn’t know you? Who’s mental now?” Mel folds her arms across her chest and gives me a look.
I make a strangled sound and bury my face in a pillow. Okay, maybe this is a bad plan. When I look up I say, “I am, obviously.” I take a deep breath and ask, “What do I do with this? Who signs up for this and has sex with a guy that she already knows?”
“No one. There’s a rule. Miss Black is strict with it. There are no extra relationships outside work when you’re with her company.”
“Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”
Mel blinks at me. “What fucking cow? We’re talking about you. White folks are so messed up.” She shakes her head and looks up at me, totally serious. “If you work for Black, you have no relationships outside of work. There are no real names, no addresses. Everything is done at hotels. The entire point is anonymity and the guy gets whatever fantasy he wants fulfilled. You kind of messed that up since you already know him.”
A jolt of panic shoots through me. I lean forward in the chair. “I don’t really know him,” I stammer, “I mean, I don’t know his last name, where he lives, I don’t know anything about him besides that he’s hot and has a motorcycle.”
Mel holds up a hand and cuts me off. “What, you think I’m gonna rat you out? Get real, chica. I’m trying to help you. Don’t mention any of that to Miss Black and stay away from Sean outside of work. He knows the rules as well as you do. Besides, if he breaks them, I hear Black has a security team that breaks his legs.”
“Are you serious?”
She nods. “There’s a lot of money in this business, enough to keep us safe and keep the guys from turning into stalkers. No one messes with us.” No one speaks for a moment. Mel’s amber gaze lifts and meets mine. “Are you really going to do it?”
My voice barely comes out. “I have to. There aren’t other options. Rent is astronomical and some temp job will render me homeless faster than I can blink. I did the math. I’m screwed. I might as well accept this as fate and go with it.”
“Fate?”
I nod. “Yeah, if it wasn’t him—if I never met Sean—I couldn’t have gone through with it. As it is, I feel sick.”
She smiles weakly at me. “I know what you mean, but don’t worry, it’ll pass and I’ll help you through it.”
CHAPTER 11
The photo shoot isn’t what I thought it would be. There’s a photographer—an older guy with a huge black camera—and Miss Black. We start by taking pictures of me clothed. They take a few headshots and then move onto full figure shots. I’m wearing jeans and a clingy sweater. I look young. My hair falls down my back in thick waves. They set my curls before we started the shoot.
I feel silly. That’s the best word for it. I have trouble loosening up until Miss Black gets me talking. Then, things go better. I feel more at ease. I laugh. They put me in a few different outfits and the final outfit is a skin tight black dress. The back is extremely low and dips past the small of my back. The dress is like a second skin. Every imperfection I have stands out and I feel like a fat hobo.
“This can’t possibly look good.” I say, pulling at the dress.
Miss Black swats my hands away and says, “You have no idea how stunning you are, do you? The dress fits perfectly, and what you think is fat are feminine curves. Without them you’d be a broom handle, so stop fidgeting and go sit over there.” Miss Black points to a corner with a bench in front of a bank of windows. The city scape is behind me. The photographer moves his gear to the new location. It’s the only shot that isn’t on a backdrop.
I sit down and smooth the dress. I start to tug down the hem, but Miss Black, says, “Leave it. Turn toward the city, Avery. Look out the window and pull your hair over your shoulder.”
I finally understand what they are doing. I twist toward the glass and flip my hair over my shoulder. It sweeps all to one side. I glance back at them. It’s a more natural shot, like they’re taking the picture of me when I don’t know it. The photographer stands behind me with the camera to his face. I hear the shutter click. I glance at Miss Black for guidance, but she doesn’t give any so I turn back to the glass. I lift my hand and touch the cold window pane with my finger, staring blankly at the city. I don’t smile. I feel lost. My life is nothing like I thought it would be. I wish I’d gone with my parents that night. I wish I wasn’t left here alone. I watch the red and white lights race by below. Life seems so fleeting, so pointless. I take a breath in and look back over my shoulder. The shutter snaps capturing the haunted look in my eyes.