“Really? You don’t believe me?” she says through restrained laughter. “Uh-huh… Okay, I wasn’t going to push it, but she’s totally waxed… Mhmm.”
My howl of laughter is, thankfully, swallowed by cushion. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. Let’s be honest—Tyler knows exactly what my pussy looks like. And Dayton only knows because our waxes coincide.
“Oh, imagine that. I’ll see you tonight. Bye, Ty.” She drops her phone with a smug-ass grin. “Conveniently, he’s unable to come and oversee this photoshoot. Something suddenly came up. Imagine that?” Her eyes twinkle.
I drop the pillow. “I know exactly what came up. Unfortunately for him, it’s not up the right place.”
I roll the stockings up my legs as she gets her giggles out and return to my bedroom. I open my closet doors and stare at the shoes.
“Is it a coincidence that you have pink heels that match this camisole?”
“Nope.” I pull them out of the closet and dangle them from my fingers. “Lingerie and shoes in the same shade is never a coincidence.” I pull the shoes on and stand, my hands on my hips. “All right. Tell me where you want me.”
I pull the shoes on and stand, my hands on my hips. “Alright, tell me where you want me.”
If she takes my photo one more time, her finger will fall off. Click. Click. Tap. Click. That’s all I’ve heard for two hours now. And don’t get me wrong. I’ve been at shoots longer than this, but I didn’t get in until three thirty this morning. This is not what I want to be doing after a long-ass shift, especially not when I’m back there tonight.
“You have to have enough now.”
“I do, but you’re so pretty to photograph. You make my job real easy, Liv.” She sighs and sets the camera down. “You’re gonna help me finish this degree. I know it.”
“Great. Can I get changed now?”
“One more.” She raises her camera again and I pout exaggeratedly, leaning into her with one hand on my hip. She laughs, snapping the picture. “Okay, okay. I get it. Ms. Model is all tired out.”
“Ms. Model has to go to work soon,” I correct. “And she’s hungry.”
Dayton looks at the time on the clock on my nightstand. “Takeout?”
“Pizza?”
“Pepperoni?”
“Double.”
And that right there is why we’re best friends.
She leaves my room to call Dominos and I get changed, sadly this time into my work uniform. Or what passes for a uniform. Donny, my boss, doesn’t care what we wear as long as our shirts are black and tight.
He’s a bit of a pig, but he pays well, so I put up with it.
I grab my black flats and carry them through to the front room. Day is on the phone again, this time telling Aaron that she’s having dinner with me and she doesn’t care if he booked a table somewhere. The call lasts approximately thirty seconds before she hangs up with a triumphant, “I love you!”
She looks up, shrugs, and waggles her baby finger with a smile.
I don’t doubt he’s wrapped around that tight. She could talk steel into bending itself to her will.
I drop onto the sofa next to her and prop my feet up on the coffee table. “Can I see the pictures?”
“I didn’t bring my laptop. Where’s yours?”
I fish it out from the side of the sofa and start it up while she grabs her camera cable. She takes the laptop from me when she sits back down and plugs the camera in. We wait as they load onto the computer, staring at the little box in the middle of the screen.
The second they do, she double-clicks on the first one. We flick through them one by one, and she drags her favorites into a separate folder as we go. We’re so engrossed that we almost miss the call from the pizza boy. I buzz him up and ignore the blatant way he stares at my boobs as I hand him the money.
“You’re in there, girl.” Dayton waggles her eyebrows.
I laugh. “Yeah, baby, I love them when they’re about to graduate high school.”
She snatches the pizza box from me and searches for the biggest piece like she always does. I’m not even bothered by it now. She’s been doing it for fifteen years.
“Do you remember,” she says around a mouth of pizza, “the time I dated that pizza boy?”
“I miss him. He got us free pizza all the time.”
“And he got me a big tum.” She pats her belly. “I dumped him because his free pizza was making me fat.”
I laugh, looking at her flat stomach. Unfortunately, neither of us was blessed with those incredible genes that mean you can eat crap all day and stay slim. We both know we’ll spend an extra hour working out tomorrow because of this pizza.