by L. D. Davis
“I’m leaving for Paris in two days,” I whispered. “And you have to take your prep course for the bar and help your brother.”
“I’ll take the bar later. Freddy can find someone else to help him out. He’ll figure it out,” he said, putting the pen and name plate down carefully on the countertop. He came to me, snaked his arms around my waist and drew me flush with his body. “Say yes.”
“You have to keep going,” I said, putting my hands on his chest. “You have to reach your full potential too, and you can’t do that following me around.”
“I can study for the bar anywhere,” he argued.
“You said yourself that your dad seemed happy about you going down to help your brother. I don’t want you to disappoint him, and you do need to take that prep course you signed up for and you need to stay focused and you will be able to do that if you stay in one place.” It was killing me to deny him. I blinked back tears and bit my bottom lip.
“What I need is you,” he said hoarsely.
I stroked his cheek slowly with the back of my hand. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch.
“I’ll quit,” I said hurriedly. “I’ll finish out my contracts and meet you in Florida.”
His eyes flew open, and he shook his head. “No. You can’t,” he said firmly. “You have to keep going until you are absolutely ready to stop, and I know you’re not. Stopping for me isn’t the same as stopping for yourself.”
I sighed heavily and closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I did so with resolve. I pulled out of his arms, blinked back any tears that wanted to come, and stood out of his reach with my arms crossed in front of me.
“Anyway,” I said, pretending that what had just transpired never happened. “I’m glad you like your gifts. You deserve them.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking at me with sad eyes.
Emmet left later that week, and I went back to my life, and it was never the same again.
*~*~*
I opened my eyes and squinted at the bright sunlight pouring in through the window. I stretched, starting with my toes and fingers and reached and reached until my fingers were at the top of the headboard and my toes were close to the end of the bed. Stretching finished, I rolled into a sitting position with my feet flat on the floor. I stared at the alarm clock and sighed.
Another day, another dollar.
As I showered and got dressed, the 4 Non Blondes’ song "What’s Up" was on a loop in my head. It had been on a loop since my twenty-fifth birthday. Nearly two years later I was still asking, “What’s going on?” I totally felt like I didn’t have a clue sometimes.
In the modeling world, I was over the hill, but even as most of my counterparts in my age group started to fall away, I had managed to hang on, though I didn’t know what for. The job was becoming more like…well a job, a chore even, rather than something rewarding, but there I was, on my way to another shoot.
One of the reasons I believed I was still somewhat in demand was because I kept myself fresh. I changed my hair up from time to time, kept myself dressed in the newest styles before they even hit the general public, and I changed with the changing times. Also, over the years I had been a sponge, soaking up every bit of information about the business that I could, and I used it to my advantage when booking a job or while on a job.
So many of the girls just showed up to look pretty and didn’t care about what was happening behind the scenes, but not me. I learned from the designers who were willing to teach me about the design process from beginning to end. I learned about fabrics and textiles, and I even learned how to sew and tailor my own clothes.
Helene and whoever else had the patience taught me about photography, including how to develop film and how to digitally manipulate the photographs. I also learned the processes of putting the fashion magazines together and other avenues of advertising.
I kept up with all of the big designers and paid close attention to the newer ones who had high potential. I was all business when working, but I knew how to stroke an ego without being obvious and shameful about it. It also helped a lot that I aged gracefully and did not look as old as I was.
I was happy to still be working, but I was exhausted. I had reached a point in my career where I could graciously turn down work and not get chastised for it, but there was still some that I just couldn’t say no to.
I could have easily shifted into another aspect of the business. I could even continue modeling but do more commercial modeling rather than high fashion modeling, but I wasn’t really sure if that was what I wanted to do.
One thing was for sure, I didn’t expect to model forever, and I didn’t want to find myself jobless without any other skills to fall back on. So, right before my twenty-fifth birthday, I started taking online college courses. The online courses were easier to manage with my schedule. I still had to struggle to meet deadlines, but I was making it happen.
I was still living in the apartment connected to Felix’s penthouse. His career was bigger than ever, and though he was still a big flirty wiseass, he had settled down significantly and was engaged to marry a make-up artist he met on the set of a movie. They had been friends until two years ago when their relationship escalated, and he fell head over heels for Ginny. She was pretty, smart, talented, and took absolutely no bullshit whatsoever from her man. I loved it.
I checked my watch and decided it was time to light a fire under my ass and get moving. I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to this shoot. My coworkers for the day were going to be a few other female models, but also several MBL players. I didn’t know much about baseball. All I really knew was that Derek Jeter was a fox… and a good kisser.
I didn’t really pay much attention to the baseball players when I walked into the building. They were milling around looking big and sporty and arrogant. Jeter inclined his head to me, and I simply responded with a slight raise of my eyebrow.
When I got into the makeshift dressing room behind a curtain and saw what I would be wearing, I rolled my eyes. It was a tiny baseball uniform. Instead of the longer pants the guys wore, I had to put on short shorts and a tight jersey.
I slipped my feet into a pair of red heels to match my Phillies’ ‘uniform’ and a hat was placed on my head over my just done hair, which seemed stupid to me. Finally, I was given a bat as a prop.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” my friend Kerry asked, holding up a glove and a ball.
“The only thing a bat is good for is breaking knee caps,” Rochelle said with her thick Boston accent.
I concurred, and even smiled at their reactions, but I didn’t speak my thoughts out loud. The powers that be don’t like to hear their models complain. I learned that when I was just a rookie.
A little while later I was introduced to my ‘partner’, the man I would be modeling with. Most of the shots were going to be group shots, but since this Jerry guy was the Philadelphia player and I was in Phillies’ gear, he was going to be my new and very temporary buddy.
I guess I didn’t mind Jerry. He was good looking enough, with a dark caramel skin tone, short dark, wavy hair, and gorgeous gray eyes. He had a very nice, sturdy build. His Armani suit fit him perfectly. He wasn’t as bulky as some athletes I had met over the years, but he looked like he could take down a lion nonetheless. What really wrapped up the package, nice and sweet like was those gray eyes. I had to force myself not to stare at them.
“I’m not really much of a model,” Jerry said close to my ear before the shoot started. He had a vague accent I couldn’t place, maybe somewhere from the Caribbean. “You may have to lead me on.”
My forehead furrowed as I looked at him. He realized his choice of words and covered his mouth with an, “Oh shit” and big eyes.
“That’s not what I meant,” he held up a defensive hand. “What I meant was that you may have to show me how you do it. Wait. That doesn’t sound right either.”
I couldn’t help myself. I started to smile. He w
asn’t faking the underlying nervousness, and he looked genuinely sorry and a little embarrassed for saying all of the wrong things.
“I’m sorry,” he said, putting a hand on the back of his neck. The suit looked ready to tear at the seams where his muscles bulged out of his arm.
“It’s cool,” I said. “I get it. You’re a baseball player, not a model. Is that right?”
“Right,” he smiled softly, showing off straight, pearly white teeth. Dimples appeared on his cheeks, and I think I may have sighed. “Unlike Jeter over there. He loves the cameras.”
“You’ll be fine,” I assured him. “If I think that you’re not, I’ll correct you. We’ll have fun with it, okay?”
“Fun I can do,” he said, nodding.
“Hey,” I said getting an idea. “Do you have any gum?” I patted his jacket pocket in search for gum.
He looked at me in confusion for a second before reaching into his pants pocket. He produced a whole pack of strawberry Bubbalicious.
“I haven’t had this gum since I was like twelve.” I grinned as I tore it open. I jammed piece after piece into my mouth until I had a pretty nice size wad against my cheek. Jerry looked at me as if I was crazy, and I worried that he actually believed it.
I turned my back on him and looked over my shoulder. “Stand behind me, Jerry. Hurry.”
He did what he was told, though he still looked very confused and maybe a little bit more nervous than before.
“Put your hands on my hips. Hmmm, no lower. Great,” I said.
Just as the producers and photographers started giving direction, I held the bat low and at an angle. I grabbed my crotch and put a nonchalant look on my face. When they caught sight of us, they back peddled and demanded gum for more of the girls.
“Wow,” I heard Jerry whisper behind me, and I grinned around my large wad of gum.
*~*~*
“You set the pace for the whole shoot,” Jerry said in awe later in the day after I was back in my street clothes.
“That photographer likes to shoot edgy stuff,” I said with a shrug. “If he was another photographer, I might have taken a different approach, but then there are some who want you to pose a certain way and look a certain way without trying anything crazy.”
“Sounds like you really know your stuff.”
“I would hope so after ten years.” I adjusted my bag on my arm. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”
“Wait,” he said, stopping me as I turned to go. I looked at him expectantly. “You robbed me of my gum, and you’re just going to walk away from me?”
“You want a dollar to cover the cost?” I asked, reaching into my jeans pocket.
“No,” he scoffed. “I want dinner.”
“You want me to buy you dinner?” I asked, cocking my head to one side.
“You’re really good at modeling and being obtuse,” he said with a grin, showing me those dimples again.
“What are you good at?” I challenged.
“Home runs,” he said, puffing out his chest.
I stared at him blankly. “I don’t follow football.”
“Damn, you’re adorable.”
“I know,” I said, batting my eyelashes dramatically. “Anyway, thanks for the gum, Jerry. Have a good one.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He gently grabbed my arm again and pulled me back. “You owe me dinner for stealing my gum and grabbing your crotch in front of me. Usually, I at least get a dinner before any of that happens.”
“You really do want me to buy you dinner?” I asked incredulously.
“No, I’ll buy you dinner, but you have to eat it.”
“I’m a model, Jerry. I don’t eat.”
“You know you’re breaking my poor heart, right?” he asked, putting a hand to his chest.
“Do you just want to take me out to dinner because you want to fuck me?” I asked with a sigh. “It’s best just to get your intentions out in the open right away. That way you won’t waste my time or yours.”
His eyes widened, and he looked surprised by what I said, but he didn’t back down, and he didn’t wipe that smirk off of his face.
“Look, I know I’m an attractive guy, and maybe you would like to get some of this, but I just want to take you out to dinner. But if all you want to do is fuck me because I’m a baseball player, I’m afraid I must decline.”
I looked up at him thoughtfully. “You really only want to take me to dinner?”
“Just dinner,” he said with that soft smile.
“Okay,” I conceded after a moment. “Can I at least go home first and wash all of this hairspray out of my hair?”
He turned halfway and reached for a hat off of a table behind him. He put the Phillies cap on my head and pulled the bill down low over my eyes.
“Nope.”
I giggled and pushed it up some.
“Okay, hot shot. Let’s go.”
He offered me his arm. I looked at it stupidly before I realized what I was supposed to do. I so used to the men in my life just taking me by the hand and leading me around.
I slipped my hand into his arm, and we walked out of the building.
Chapter Forty-Four
“So, what’s your story?” Jerry asked me over a table full of food.
“What story is that?” I asked, picking up a French fry slathered in cheese.
“The story about why you are single.”
“Does there have to be a story?” I asked after I swallowed my fry. “Maybe I just like being single.”
“Maybe that’s a load of BS. Come on, give it to me.”
“Why are you still single?” I asked defensively.
“Because I’m not sure if I’m the settling down type,” he answered, looking me square in the eye.
“So, you like sleeping around?”
“I don’t sleep around. I find a girl who I can share my time with, but I don’t commit.”
“Sounds a lot like sleeping around to me,” I said.
“I don’t commit, but I don’t cheat. Does that make sense?”
It did, because I had that same relationship with Benny once. “Yes, I understand,” I nodded. “So, why don’t you commit?”
“You know I asked the question first.”
I waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Why don’t you commit?”
“I have a very busy schedule when I’m in a season,” he explained. “I travel a lot for games, and if I’m not traveling, I’m practicing. If I’m not practicing, I’m sleeping. The women who stick with men with a schedule like that are rare, and I haven’t found one yet who understands. She may say she understands, but you know I’ll give it a trial run and usually after a few weeks I start to hear the whining and badgering about not being home.”
“I can relate to that,” I said after a moment.
He raised an eyebrow at me as he prepared to take a bite of his mammoth cheeseburger.
“Really,” I said. “My career has been slowing down some lately, but in the past I was never in one place for very long.”
“So, is that your story then?” he asked after chewing and then thankfully swallowing.
“Basically,” I answered. I didn’t want to go into details about Emmet.
“So, if you dated a guy with a similar schedule, you could deal with it?”
“I think I could understand it. I can’t sit here and say that it would be easy because I don’t know. I’ve only been on this side of the equation. For all I know, I could find myself in that situation and be a total lunatic about it.”
Jerry wiped his mouth with a napkin and stared at me for a long time. I wasn’t one to feel self-conscious about myself or my body, but his direct gaze made me shift a little in my seat.
“That’s the most honest answer I’ve ever heard,” he said. He looked at me with admiration.
“Well, don’t get all mushy about it,” I said, sitting up straight. “It’s just a conversation. I’m not going to marry you and bear your offspring or anything.”
“Until you can predict the future, don’t count me out,” he said with a wink.
Our conversation was lighter after that. We talked through our meal and dessert and coffee afterward. We must have spent a good three hours in that diner, but Jerry tipped the waitress well for taking up her table time. When we stepped out into the cool night air, I fumbled with the scarf around my neck, trying to tuck it in just right to help keep me warm.
“Oh, you’re hopeless,” Jerry said with a smile and gently knocked my hands away.
He rewrapped my scarf and tucked it into my coat and then pulled the bill of the cap down over my eyes again. Giggling, I pushed it back up so I could see him.
“Can I hold your hand?” he asked, like he was asking me what the temperature was.
“What?” I asked dumbly.
“Did I not speak clearly?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said and then shook my head. “I mean no. I mean, sure. You can hold my hand.”
When did I become a bumbling fool?
“Have you never had your hand held?” Jerry teased as he took my hand in his.
“No one usually asks,” I explained as we walked down the sidewalk. “They just do it.”
“The first time, a man should always ask. He should ask for the first kiss too, not just take it.”
I gave him a teasing smile. “What a gentleman.”
“Not really,” he said, looking at me with those gorgeous eyes. “I just know how to please a woman.”
Heat rose in my face and in other places I wasn’t ready to think about.
“But after today,” Jerry continued. “I won’t ask before I take your hand or kiss you.”
“You’re assuming that there will be an ‘after today,'” I said.
“What I like about your statement is that you did not say that I am assuming that you will kiss me. Now I know I have a very good chance of getting the green light on that.”
“Because you are so damn sure of yourself, I am going to give you a red light just to be spiteful.”
