I definitely don’t disagree. I don’t know much aside from the little that Taylor allows me to see. But it isn’t just about being a model; I just don’t want the scrutiny that comes with it. Being a gossip columnist, we’re paid to basically talk about other people. I make money writing articles about who looks horrible at what event or who’s dating what entertainer or business mogul, and even those who were caught behaving badly. Being famous means being judged and after being judged when shit fell apart back home, I know I don’t want that on the celebrity grand scale.
9:27 p.m.
Living room
I pace back and forth, unable to sit still for a long period of time. Silas will be here any minute now and I can’t stop my heart from pounding against my ribcage. Why am I so nervous? It isn’t like I haven’t gone out with him before. Maybe because it’s an actual date and not a work assignment? I don’t know, but I DO know that I’m scared shitless.
My palms are sweaty and it takes everything in me not to wipe my hands onto my expensive dress. I feel like a million bucks in my dress, gold heels, and silver jewelry, but even that doesn’t seem like enough to impress Silas. I don’t remember ever feeling this nervous when I first started going on with Cameron, but Silas is different. A man of few words, he’s hard to read at times. Maybe I’m just nervous because I hardly know much about the man.
A text message alert stops me in my tracks. I grab my phone with shaky hands to see a message from Silas.
Sex Bomb: I’m downstairs. Where should I go?
Blake: 3rd floor, apartment C
Sex Bomb: Cool. See ya in a sec
“Just play it cool. Just play it cool,” I mumble to myself, trying to steady my shaky breathing and racing heart. I probably don’t have anything to worry about. At the rate my heart is racing, I just might be in cardiac arrest by the time he gets up here.
9:29 p.m.
Living room still
Would he have to do CPR if I go into cardiac arrest? I’ll pass on the chest compressions and just take the mouth action, please! I’ll die a happy woman tonight!
9:30 p.m.
Living room
On the verge of death
A solid knock breaks through the silence. Milo bounces off the couch and runs over to the door, barking and yapping like a lunatic.
“Shush, Milo!” I say, shooing him away from the door. “Who is it?” I already know who it is, but you can never be too sure. John Wayne Gacy III could be standing on the other side wanting to borrow a cup of sugar as well as my head.
“Silas,” he calls. Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the sound of his voice. Well, here goes nothing.
I open the front door and force myself to smile, praying that I don’t look constipated. If I did, I wouldn’t know because his expression softens when he sees me. He slowly smiles.
“Wow,” he says.
He looks pretty wow himself. Just when I think he can’t get any more handsome, his usually messy hair is combed and slicked back in a sexy quiff. His black tuxedo seems perfectly tailored to his body, showing off a pair of broad shoulders I haven’t really paid much attention to. His pants encase his long legs perfectly, paired with shiny black shoes. He definitely cleans up nicely.
“You look beautiful,” he finally says.
“Thank you. You look great as well,” I say, unable to take my eyes off of him. He’d even trimmed his facial hair, which frames his strong facial features and accentuates those lips I hope will kiss me tonight.
Taylor’s apartment door opens and she and Grandpa Grady walk out hand-in-hand. She looks rather beautiful in a white satin gown that looks more like lingerie than a dress and black stilettos. Her fiery red hair falls in loose curls around her shoulder. Had she worn a red dress, she could’ve totally passed for Jessica Rabbit. Grandpa, on the other hand, is quite boring in comparison to her. He’s wearing a grey pinstripe suit with a matching hat. To make matters worse, he has a black cane. I mean geez, if he wants to look like he’s escorting his daughter and her teenage friend to prom or is Taylor’s pimp, he chose an appropriate outfit. Whatever. I just hope he remembered to use enough Poligrip to keep his teeth in his mouth in the event that he and Taylor decide to tongue wrestle.
Yuck.
Even the thought of that makes me want to throw up my soul.
“Oh my God, you two look amazing!” Taylor squeals when she sees us. “I swear I love that dress on you, Blake. Doesn’t she look beautiful, honey?”
“She does,” he agrees, nodding to Silas. “You’re a very lucky man to have snagged this one.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks as Silas chuckles. “I suppose so,” he says, gazing at me.
Taylor claps her hands. “Well, it looks like the limo is a little early, so shall we?”
“Yeah, I just need to grab my purse and I’ll be ready,” I say.
“May I use your bathroom really quick?” Silas asks.
“Sure, down the hall and to your right,” I say. He walks past me and heads to the bathroom with Milo barking and yapping behind him.
“We’ll meet you guys downstairs,” Taylor says after she locks her door, taking Grady by the arm and leading him down the stairs. I close my door and go to fetch my purse from the coffee table, checking my reflection one more time in the mirror as I pass it. Still looks good.
Silas comes out of the bathroom drying his hands with a paper towel and looks at me. “Nice place you have here,” he says, looking around. Milo growls at him from his position on the couch. “Cute pup, too.”
“He’s a little asshole, but I love him,” I say. Milo looks at me and barks. “Taylor and Grady are waiting for us in the limo.”
“We should probably go ahead and get going then,” he says, making his way over to the door. I follow behind him, lock the door, and make the tedious journey of going down the stairs in a long dress and high heels. I pray I don’t come home drunk. I may not make it to my apartment in these shoes without ripping the bottom of my dress.
9:41 p.m.
Back of the limo
Not one to discriminate, Grady and Taylor resume their weird make out session in front of Sex Bomb and me, which is super awkward. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone and begins typing on it. My phone vibrates in my purse soon after.
Sex Bomb: She’s dating that old geezer?
I snicker, quickly trying to disguise it as a cough when Grady and Taylor glance over at me. I quickly reply.
Blake: Sugar daddy, she says.
Sex Bomb: Man. I can’t imagine what she’s had to do to get him. I’ll need brain bleach to get this image of them out of my head.
Blake: Save some for me LOL
He peeks over at my phone and chuckles. “That’s seriously what you have my name as?” he asks. I give him a sheepish shrug.
“I mean it’s rather fitting, I think,” I admit.
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“No one has ever told you you’re good looking?”
“No one has ever said I was a sex bomb,” he says and laughs. The mention of the word “sex” brings Taylor and Grady out of their tongue wrestling.
“Sorry for being rude,” Grady apologizes as he wipes remnants of Taylor’s red lipstick from his lips. “So, what kind of work do you do, sir?”
“I’m a photographer,” Silas answers.
“Oh? Who’ve you shot?”
“I work for Hot Topic magazine. She and I work together,” he says, gesturing to me.
Grady strokes his grey beard. “The writer and the photographer. Sounds like a match made in heaven if you believe in that sort of thing,” he says.
“It’s interesting,” Silas says, looking at me. I giggle nervously and fiddle with the loose ring on my finger. What does he mean by that? Does he think it’s true about us?
“What’s your name again?” Taylor asks him.
“Silas.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, Silas, what do you think of Blake’s dress? She’s
hot, right?” The way she says his name skates on my last nerve for some reason. I can’t pinpoint why exactly, but she put too much emphasis on the ending of his name. It almost sounds like she has a lisp.
“Her dress is very beautiful and she looks amazing in it,” he says and smiles at me.
Relief washes over me. We’re off to a good start then.
“I’m glad. I wanted to stay away from fur, leather, and feathers and such. Didn’t want to offend you with my dress,” I say and giggle.
He cocks his eyebrow. “It looks like there’s silk in this dress.”
“There is, but that’s safe isn’t it?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Silk is actually made from the cocoons of silkworms, remember?”
Well then.
So much for choosing a “safe” dress.
Taylor’s face scrunches in what I assume to be disgust. “Are you one of those tree-hugging hippies or something?” she asks.
“I’m vegan, if that’s what you mean,” he answers. There’s an awkward silence for a brief moment.
“That’s a pretty big commitment,” Grady finally says. “Good on you.”
“Thank you,” Silas says.
I wish this limo would put the pedal to the medal and get us to this event faster before Silas decides to continue on about all the animal products everyone (but him) wore tonight.
9:56 p.m.
Arriving at the ballroom
“Okay, listen up, you two,” Taylor says to Silas and me as she checks her lipstick in a compact mirror. “Grady and I will go out first, as the photographers know who we are.” Knows who SHE was? Hell, I don’t even know who she is most of the time and she’s my neighbor!
“They’ll automatically think you guys are someone important since you’re with us. Simply pose and look in whatever direction you hear voices. Don’t look like a deer in headlights, Blake. Then they’ll know you’re just some random who isn’t used to a few flashing lights.”
I roll my eyes. “I think I got it, Taylor. Since you’re going out first, do you think you can get my entrance on my SnapChat?”
“Oh, are we showing off again to that Madicunt girl?” Taylor asks, her eyes lighting up.
“You call Madison Madicunt?” Silas asks and laughs. “That’s hilarious.” I almost want to punch Taylor for saying that out loud. Madison is STILL Silas’ friend (which is so unfortunate) and that could’ve gone badly if he didn’t think the name was funny. I have to be more careful about what I say to her if there’s a chance Silas will be around.
“Well, give me your phone then,” she says, holding her hand out. I retrieve my phone, open SnapChat and make sure it’s ready to record with a press of a button.
“Everyone ready?” Grady asks. We nod in return. He taps on the window and the driver opens the door. Grady and Taylor slip out of the limo, the sounds of clicking cameras and multiple, “Hey Grady, over here! Look this way! Over here,” coming from all directions.
Silas looks at me and gives my hand a reassuring pat. “We’re famous somebodies tonight,” he says. “Ready to do this?”
I take a deep breath and nod, sliding over toward the door.
Time to be a famous somebody.
9:57 p.m.
On the red carpet
Holy fuck fuck.
There are so. Many. Cameras.
Don’t look like a deer in headlights. Don’t look like a deer in headlights.
I think back to all I’ve seen on America’s Next Top model, remembering all the times I used to practice “smizing” in my bedroom mirror. I have no clue if that’s what I’m doing now, but the photographers seem to love it.
Silas stands tall next to me, his hand resting on the small of my back. Taylor stands a few feet away looking like a proud mom as she records Silas and me for my Snapchat story. I feel like a superstar. Multiple voices call out to us, asking us to look their way and asking us who we are. Tonight, we can be whoever we want to be. That in itself is fucking awesome.
10:04 p.m.
Inside the ballroom
A firestorm of pictures later, we finally make it into the grand ballroom. A live band plays on stage and people from all sectors of the industry mingle within the crowd. Musicians, actors, actresses, socialites, businessmen and women, directors, models, and photographers. I almost feel out of place amongst all the talent in the room.
Taylor walks over to me and hands me back my phone. “Just remember to appear as if you’re someone important. You never know, you may walk out of here with a job or something.”
I frown. “But I have a job.”
“I mean a better one. I’ll text you!” she calls, linking arms with Grady and walking over to a group of guys wearing the same ridiculous chaperon/pimp getup that he is.
A SnapChat notification pops up on my phone from Shayla. I’ll look at that later.
The models I saw at another party with Taylor comes up to us. “Hey, I remember you!” the blonde-haired woman says with a bright smile. “How’d your videos go over with that mean girl?”
Silas chuckles behind me but doesn’t say anything as I try not to turn red from embarrassment. What’s up with everyone mentioning that tonight? Doesn’t anyone know how to keep a damn secret anymore?
“It went well. Thanks again,” I say. She nods and looks at Silas.
“Is that your boyfriend? He’s super hot. I don’t think I’ve seen him anywhere though. Is he famous?”
I look back at him to see him grabbing a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray. “No, he’s just a friend from work. He’s a photographer.”
“He can take my picture any day,” the brunette says, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Silas takes a huge gulp of his water and comes to stand beside me, nodding at the other women.
“Good evening, ladies. You all look nice,” he says, placing his hand on the small of my back.
The blonde cocks her head to the side and points at us. “You two came here together?” she asks.
“Sure did. We’re on a date,” he answers. I smile, feeling the heat rushing to my cheeks at his words.
The brunette releases a dreamy sigh. “Lucky girl. Well, you guys enjoy yourself! Have a great night!” she says and they all walk away.
“What’s this video everyone seems to be talking about?” he finally asks as we maneuver through the crowd to find somewhere to sit.
I shrug. “My SnapChat stories when I went to the other party with Taylor. I may have asked them to pretend we were great friends so that I could make Madison jealous.”
“Well, it definitely worked,” he says with a chuckle.
I sigh. In a way, it kind of sucks that she doesn’t like me for whatever reason. I came to New York for a fresh start; making an enemy before I even clocked in for my first day isn’t something I wanted to have happen.
“Is she like that with all new people?” I ask him.
“Eh, she has her moments,” he admits. He looks out to the dance floor and gestures toward it. “Care to dance?”
Hell fucking yes I’d like to dance. I’d like to kiss, too, but we can start with dancing.
10:19 p.m.
Ballroom dance floor
I’m pretty sure I’m dead right now.
I mean I have to be if I’m pressed body to body on a celebrity-filled dance floor with the hottest guy on earth. Wait, I should correct that. The hottest guy on earth that is interested in little ol’ me, that is.
He looks down at me, a soft grin planted on his lips. “Are you nervous or something?” he asks.
“Why would I be nervous?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
“Well, why do you think I’m nervous?”
“You’re looking everywhere else but at me,” he says.
“Sorry,” I apologize, feeling slightly embarrassed. The lights in the ballroom soften as a slower tune fills the speakers. Other couples around us move closer to each other, swaying with the romantic jazz tunes that pl
ays.
“You seem to have a way of turning someone’s life upside down in a short amount of time,” he finally says with a chuckle. “You’re really different from many women I come across.”
“Different how?”
He glances up at the chandelier hanging over us for a brief moment before answering. “Like I mentioned before, it’s rare for me to meet a woman who actually volunteers to come to an animal rights protest when they aren’t vegan and weren’t interested in becoming vegan,” he said.
“I’ll be honest, I mostly went because it was an opportunity to get to know you outside of work,” I admit. “But I’m glad I went though. I learned a lot.”
“Ah, so you only went because you wanted to hang with Sex Bomb,” he teases, a grin settling on his lips.
I couldn’t deny that. If I had no interest in him, I most definitely wouldn’t have stood out in the cold protesting something I wasn’t informed on. “Hey, I have no shame in my game,” I say and smile.
He looks at me for a few moments, his eyes feeling as if they were burning through to my soul. “You really are a force to be reckoned with.”
“I guess I have taken everything by storm considering that I made an enemy at work before I even clocked in,” I muttered.
“Don’t blame someone else’s jealousy on yourself. You’re a great writer; I see why Gary wanted you to join us. Madison is just…she can be a bit territorial at times, but she really means no harm.”
“Maybe she means you no harm, but she’s prepared to rip everyone’s face off if they come between her and what she wants,” I say and it’s true. Since the day I met her, she’s been a certified bitch to me. Nothing ever seems to be enough for her when it comes to me. I mean she’s a cunt to everyone, but it’s almost as if she goes out of her way to be twice as mean as she normally is when it comes to me.
Musings of a Gossip Queen Page 10
