Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology

by Violet Vaughn

  Who had to pay for it.

  But it wasn’t even like that. I knew the guys didn’t think of me or any of the women who came to the club that way. The least I could do was cough up a dollar.

  Why couldn’t epiphanies ever be something that I wanted to deal with? Instead, it was always some stark light of truth on the ugliest, darkest, and saddest parts of myself that I wanted to hide from everyone—including me.

  I downed both shots.

  “So it’s going to be that kind of night?” April asked.

  “I work hard. I deserve to have a good time.”

  “We both do.” She waved her arm and one the servers came over. “I don’t want to run back to the bar all night. Start me a tab? Bring us six more rum shots and a Manhattan.”

  She took the Manhattan and gave me the shots.

  Another hash mark on the douche scorecard. I’d been so shitty to her and now she was buying my drinks.

  “Thanks,” I said, sincere.

  “Tonight’s about having fun, right?”

  Except she didn’t look like she was having fun. She looked miserable and Kieran wasn’t even on the floor yet.

  I downed my shots—one right after another.

  Sometimes, I was glad for my alcohol tolerance and then other times, I wished I was a lightweight so five dollars would put me in that warm, fuzzy place where everything seemed like a good idea.

  The lights went down and a bachelorette party started shrieking when the routines started. Yeah, I definitely needed those shots.

  I was surprised to see Gavin on stage again as the opening act.

  April choked on her Manhattan.

  “Didn’t you see him last night?”

  “No. I might have snuck up to the dressing room when you went upstairs.” She flashed me a guilty look.

  I wouldn’t think about what she was doing there. Or who she was doing it with. God, I needed another shot. Something to numb my brain and my heart.

  I tried to watch what was going on in front of me. Tried to forget what Gavin said to me, tried to forget what he was like when he was talking and watched him shake his goods, but I wasn’t into it. He was pretty, but every time I saw him, I remembered that I was pretty for a fat girl.

  I knew I should just let it go. It didn’t matter what he thought or what he said. I had to live with myself. He didn’t. Maybe I’d buy myself a new dress tomorrow. If I was going to love myself, I should give myself presents, right?

  Although, the best present I could give myself right now would be to leave. To go home and take my soon to be drunk ass to bed.

  April wandered off, but that didn’t surprise me. She was probably trying to find Kieran for some alone time.

  It was like that Killers song—I kept seeing every foul thing they could do to each other and it played out like some sick movie in my head. I didn’t want to see it, but I couldn’t stop.

  I’d seen April naked. I knew she didn’t have stretch marks, in fact, she had a cute belly button piercing. The bar she wore had a delicate little ladybug on the end. She didn’t have any extra fat at all and her boobs would stand up without a bra.

  It wasn’t hard to picture them together at all. April was just his type. Beautiful people… I slammed back another shot of rum.

  I didn’t want to even try to picture myself with Kieran, because I wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway. I’d want all the lights off.

  The room finally started to spin just a little bit, almost like a merry-go-round. And yet, all the fucks I wished I didn’t give were still right there in my face.

  7

  Saturday morning dawned bright, early, and made me want to puke. It was the day of the shoot and we were all meeting at Longview Lake. The guys were bringing their muscles, their fast cars, and the girls were bringing their fabulous selves.

  When I’d conceived of this grand idea, I thought it was the best thing since wide calf boots. But this was going to be my brand, the face I showed to the web and I would stand or fall based on people’s impressions of me.

  No matter what I said, Chubbalicious was me.

  I was Chubbalicious—in more ways than one.

  What was I doing? Why had I ever thought I could do this? Doubt spun like so much sticky, rancid cotton candy and buried my face in the bowl of my hands.

  This was utter bullshit. This self-doubt, this fear… Neither of those things were going to help me, so I had to put them out of my head. Chubbalicious was what I wanted and I’d never get it if I was afraid to reach for it. I had to trust myself. Especially since I’d already paid the photographer.

  Shit, the photographer. It was eight, and Ryan was going to be here in thirty minutes. I’d promised him breakfast. He was a journalism student at the university and the promise of a meal had been more motivation than the small fee I’d paid him.

  He’d offered to do it for free, but I believed in paying artists for their work. I couldn’t believe how many people had asked me to design clothes for them and tell me that my payment would be exposure, that I could put it in my portfolio.

  Seriously? Fuck you.

  I didn’t mind working for trade, but in my mind, exposure isn’t trade. Hollie was the writer and she’d written the descriptive copy for all of the pieces. I’d given her two of the dresses she was going to model. One for doing the shoot, and another for writing the copy. Rosa was doing makeup and hair, so she got two dresses as well.

  And Ryan Wells, I’d paid him less than he was worth, so I was more than happy to feed him.

  I pulled out the v-neck stretch tee I’d planned on wearing. It was ridiculously pink, but it read I Am Chubbalicious. The v dipped down right between the double b, which I found endlessly funny because there was nothing b about this shirt—it was all double d.

  I shimmied into a pair of distressed jeans and low-heeled gladiator sandals and called it good.

  The bell rang and I peered out the window to see that Ryan Wells was right on time. But he most certainly did not look like any journalism student I’d ever met. He was the same size as Kieran—tall, broad shouldered, looked like a football player.

  I paused mid-thought. If I wanted people to stop thinking in stereotypes, I had to do it too. It wasn’t even something I realized I did. But why couldn’t a guy who was into photography and journalism be into taking care of his body?

  Because I’m a psycho. I sighed as I opened the door. Sometimes, I thought that I made a bigger deal out of it than anyone else.

  “Hey, I’m running behind. Breakfast will be a little late.” I apologized and hoped he wasn’t too unhappy with that development.

  He grinned. “That’s a relief. I was working on a project for Ancient Civ all night and I might’ve just eaten a whole pizza. So no worries. We can get straight to the shoot.”

  “Fabulous! Let me grab my bag. Everyone is going to meet us there.” I reached over to the table. “I have the model releases and paperwork here.” It was in a shiny new pink folder that had been embossed with Chubbalicious.

  When I’d started this last year, I’d been very concerned with branding, with swag, and I’d spent a lot of money of it. But I’d learned that no matter how good your swag, your branding, you still needed a good product. I should’ve developed the product first. And now I had all of these Chubbalicious office supplies, stationary, note pads, pens… Oh, the pens.

  He accepted it and held the door wider for me to exit.

  I kind of thought we’d ride with Kieran, but his car wasn’t in the driveway. I hope he didn’t flake on me. If he did, I’d never forgive him.

  Or April, if he was with her. They both knew how important this was to me.

  I knew that was totally selfish, but I didn’t generally ask my friends for things. I asked Kieran not to fuck my other friends and that was about it. Except for Chubbalicious. It was my fatted calf, my golden god, my temple and my priest. It was everything.

  “Are you nervous? Don’t be.” He answered his own question before I c
ould. “You’re going to be great.”

  “Me? I’m worried about the clothes.”

  He raised a brow. “Everyone is nervous in front of the camera, and you’re still doing a couple publicity shots, right?”

  “I don’t know if all that’s necessary.” I opened my car door and slid into the driver’s seat. It was nothing so nice as what all the guys drove. It was a newer Chevy Impala. Practical and dependable.

  “Yes, it definitely is.” He flashed a grin. “You’ll love them. I promise.”

  Pictures of myself? Looking at them was kind of like a guiding tour in hell. I knew I had a pretty face, but I didn’t photograph well—and that had nothing to do with being fat. Even when I was a kid, before puberty, boobs, hormones, and my body rebelling against me, I still despised pictures of myself.

  “If you can make me like pictures of myself—” I paused. “—well, the thought’s so foreign I really don’t know what I’d do.”

  “Let me take more and show them to all your friends, so they’ll book me. That’s what you’ll do.” He smiled wider. “Or that’s what I’d appreciate you doing.”

  “You got it, doll.”

  We chatted about music, photography, and even football on the way to Longview.

  Everyone was there when we arrived. “How did you guys beat me here?” My voice might have warbled a little, thick with emotion. They knew how important this was and they came.

  I think part of me expected them to bail, to let me down.

  Why was I friends with these people if I didn’t think I could count on them or trust them to believe in me?

  Another goddamn epiphany slapped me so hard I almost fell over.

  It wasn’t just them—it was me. I didn’t believe in me either.

  You know Claire, if you’d just trim up a bit, it would be easier for people to get to know you. You’d have so many more friends. My mother’s voice echoed in my head.

  I never understood what she meant by that—that somehow the shape of my body prevented people from knowing me. And if it did, I said I didn’t want those friends anyway.

  You’ll never keep a man if you don’t get your weight under control.

  “Shut up,” I muttered. Her “helpful” voice on a loop was as bad as my own. Why did it always have to come back to this? I plastered a smile on my face and joined the group.

  “Thank you all so much for coming. It really means the world to me.”

  Seeing Rosa and Hollie in the dresses I’d made—how utterly fucking fabulous they looked—it touched me deeper than any stupid voice on any lame loop. This was what I was meant to do and I was good at it.

  My eyes watered when they hugged me, stupid pollen. Because I wasn’t the type to snivel or cry over something like this. It had to be the pollen.

  “You guys are perfect,” I said after I broke the hug.

  Rosa spun in a circle, the crinoline under the skirt swung out to reveal more leg. “I kind of do look perfect, don’t I? I feel like a rockabilly princess.”

  “Am I still up first?” Kieran said.

  I nodded. “Hell yeah. You and Rosa, like we talked about.”

  He grinned and pulled off his shirt. I tried not to look, but Rosa didn’t make any such effort.

  “It’s good to be me,” she said.

  Hollie laughed. “No kidding.”

  My gaze was drawn to Brant, and he smiled. It wasn’t a sly smirk, or even a naughty grin. It was a genuine smile. My lips curved of their own accord. There was something about the expression on his face, like maybe he was proud of me.

  Not like I was a puppy who’d done something cute and should be indulged, but actually proud of me.

  Something foreign swelled in my chest. Thank you, I mouthed.

  Always, he mouthed back.

  I turned my attention back to the scene in front of me and Ryan had already started snapping pictures.

  Kieran lifted Rosa up to sit on the hood of his Challenger and he crouched down in front of her so that Rosa could lean forward and brace her hands on his shoulders. His very broad shoulders. I tried not to drool. The shot wouldn’t do much for the dress, but I’d planned to use a series of pictures and a big splash page for each item. Risky, with what I knew about people’s clicking/buying habits, but there was a certain feel that I wanted to capture for each thing. Something I wanted to transmit to the consumer and I wanted them to feel beautiful in my clothes.

  Basically, if you buy this dress, you can have anything you want. Not just any man, but the world. Yourself.

  Maybe that was ambitious for some fabric and thread to accomplish, but I wanted to try.

  Kieran swept her up in his arms and then proceeded to lift her over his head. She squealed. “Don’t squirm and you’ll be fine. Claire, come fix these ruffles.”

  The pose was like all those vintage muscle beach guys holding the woman above their heads. Only it was for Chubbalicious and the woman wasn’t a size five. She was a 22/24.

  I rushed in to smooth the skirt and let it fall over Kieran’s shoulder. Part of me wanted to take a while, not only to be closer to Kieran, but to see how long he could hold her up. He wasn’t even straining. This was nothing to him.

  I looked around to see if anyone could tell that my panties had just melted off of me.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Rosa asked, biting her lip.

  Kieran started to lower his arms, playing at fatigue and when she shrieked, he hoisted her aloft again, laughing. “Come on, lass. I bench my own body weight and I definitely weigh more than you. Relax.”

  I arched a brow. “That wasn’t nice.”

  “You’re next.”

  “Oh, I think not.” No, I could never let that happen. “And you just ruined all my work.” I fussed with the skirt again, maybe longer than I needed to.

  “You like feeling me up anyway.”

  Caught, my face flamed, but I lifted my chin. “Well, who wouldn’t?”

  Rosa giggled. “Stop feeling up Muscles McIrish here. I wanna turn.”

  “You’re so bad.” Hollie laughed from the sideline. “But uh, yeah. I get a turn, too.”

  “Ladies, there’s enough muscle to go around,” Austin said and tipped his cowboy hat.

  Kieran shrugged. “It’s the Oirish.”

  I realized that Ryan hadn’t stopped snapping. The film kept rolling through all of this. It might be good to have some candid outtakes, but I certainly didn’t want a picture of my ass in the shot.

  I eyed Kieran critically, forgetting that he was my hottie roommate. He was advertising. I unsnapped the button on his jeans and tugged them down an inch to better show off his obliques—or as April liked to call it, his Adonis apron.

  He didn’t move a single muscle or react in any way. Except the look in his eyes. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I had to look up at him. It was like the tide and I’d have had an easier time turning it than avoiding his stare.

  It was hot, hungry, but it couldn’t possibly be for me.

  Could it?

  “That’s better.” I mumbled.

  “Is it?” he asked, as if we were talking about something so banal as the weather, rather than me almost ripping his jeans off him.

  “If that’s part of the treatment, I’m glad I signed up,” Brant said.

  “Whatever. You know you’ll get that anyway,” Austin teased.

  “Will he?” Kieran asked.

  I pretended I didn’t hear him and walked out of the shot. Ryan kept snapping.

  They moved through several other poses and dresses. The rest of the shoot went smoothly. It was obvious from the way everyone interacted, that they were having a good time.

  Even when April showed up carrying two large picnic baskets. I didn’t know if I was glad to see her or not.

  She hugged me tight. “I wanted to help. I hope it’s okay.”

  What was I going to say to that? I didn’t even know how I felt about it. April had been one of my best friends, I thought. Until lately, when
I really started thinking about some of the things she said to me.

  Part of me didn’t believe that she was here to help. She was here for Kieran.

  But what did that matter in the scheme of things? If he wanted to be with her, he would. There was nothing I, or anyone else could or should do about that.

  So I hugged her back. “Thanks. That’s great. I’m sure everyone is getting hungry. I promised Ryan here breakfast.” I nodded to the photographer.

  She beamed. “Great. When’s break time?”

  Rosa pursed her lips. “Who invited the skinny girl? This is a fat girl only party.”

  I thought about how it would feel if it was the other way around. This is a skinny girl only party. I knew she was teasing, but it wasn’t okay either.

  I put my arm around her. “This is a gorgeous girl party.”

  “You bet it is,” Brant said from where he was already rummaging through the baskets.

  “There’s some beers in the trunk. And some soda,” April called to him.

  “You’re the best,” he answered.

  “So you know, Claire still hasn’t had her turn,” Kieran said.

  “Oh!” Hollie exclaimed. “Come on, Rosa. We need to get her hair and makeup.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “You promised us. Me and Brant.” Kieran reminded me.

  “It’s a waste of everyone’s time. I’m not going to use them.”

  “You’re not getting out of it, Claire.” Ryan grinned. “Remember? For my portfolio?”

  I looked around at all of the expectant faces. “Fine.” Just because I agreed to do it didn’t mean I actually had to look at them.

  8

  After Hollie and Rosa finished pasting on eyelashes, makeup, and doing my hair, I stood in front of the Challenger and eyed it suspiciously.

  They wanted me on the hood.

  Not a fucking chance.

  It just didn’t look that sturdy.

  And if I dented it, I would die of utter and absolute humiliation.

  No, no, and much more no.

  “Yes, Claire.” It was as if Kieran could hear my thoughts. “I sit on it all the time.”