by Heidi Lowe
“I'm going home,” I said to their retreating forms, as they stumbled up the stairs together. I might as well have not been there.
“Or you could stay and watch. You might learn something,” Autumn called back.
It didn't deserve a response. I left disgruntled; and as payback, instead of leaving her car keys on the table, decided to drive the car back to my place. She would probably freak out when she woke up and found it gone – that was my hope.
SEVEN
I'd lost count of the amount of times Autumn insisted that she didn't need my, or anyone else's, help, and that having a PA only got in her way. But the fact was, with my help she managed to arrive to her appointments merely half an hour late; I suspected that without me she wouldn't have turned up at all.
“This is an improvement for her,” Greta said when Autumn and I arrived at the studio. A photo shoot was scheduled for the female members of A-in-S; and as with everything she did, Autumn had set her own schedule, turning up at whatever time she wanted, making us both look bad. For someone like me who prided themselves on punctuality, this irked me.
“But we're almost half an hour late,” I said.
“You got her here. She hates doing this sort of thing.” Greta squeezed my shoulder to show support. By then it had been ten agonizing weeks that I had been working for Autumn, and throughout them Greta had been courteous, friendly and considerate, everything her band mate was not. I wondered how she could stand to be in Autumn's company for more than five minutes. I could barely stand it, and I was being paid for it.
Then she added, as we watched Autumn strip down to her underwear, so relaxed in front of the fifteen or so people in attendance, “You're good for her.”
I knew she was just saying that to make me feel better, to feel as if I had worth. Whatever her reasons for saying it, her words did improve my mood slightly, as I hung back and watched the hair and makeup people fuss over Autumn. I'd observed that the less clothes she wore the happier she seemed. Probably because she knew she had a body to die for, and to kill for, the sort that made everyone stop what they were doing and give her their undivided attention. The whole room became mesmerized; men and women alike, gawking at her as though they'd never seen the female body before. Despite having seen her like this many times, and with less on, even I couldn't turn away. I wondered if Greta ever felt inferior in her presence. In comparison to her curvaceous band mate, Greta was tall and lean – attractive, but lacked the type of sex appeal Autumn exuded.
“She's all anyone's been talking about this past week, since we got the shoot.” My eyes had been so glued to my stunning boss that I was oblivious to the fact that I'd been joined by a woman. She looked about my age. I hadn't noticed her before, though I should have. She stuck out like a sore thumb, with a long on top shaved back and sides hairstyle that suited the shape of her face. She was short, shorter than me. There was a coolness about her that didn't come off pretentious. “We're a new team, and one of the only ones who would work with her. So she's our biggest client to date.”
“Yeah, she uses a lot of new companies for exactly that reason...” I said drily. Even companies she'd never worked with had heard of her past bad behavior and refused to work with her. My job had been made difficult because of this, running around trying to find last minute alternatives. She'd never shared with me the reason why she'd been banned from so many establishments, though I suspected it was because she'd been caught doing the nasty with some random woman, probably an employee of said establishments.
“Gum? It's peppermint.”
I looked at the proffered packet. “Now I'm a little concerned about why you're offering me gum. What are you trying to tell me?” I asked with a nervous laugh.
She chuckled. “Oh, God, I didn't mean anything by it. You smell really nice, actually.” And just like that her cool persona was replaced by a bashful blush that covered her whole face. “I realize now just how creepy that sounds. I don't go around sniffing random, beautiful women, trust me.” She rubbed at her neck shyly, and it was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. I'd never made anyone shy; on the contrary, it was usually me in this situation.
“Good to know,” I said with a smile.
“Trish.” She extended a hand.
“Elle. Nice to meet you.”
Now that she was officially on my radar, I began to notice other things about her, like how soft her hand was, and that along with her eyebrow-piercing she had a tongue-piercing, which I'd always found intriguing. Immediately my mind went to thoughts of how it would feel to kiss her. I'd always wondered what the stud would feel like against my tongue.
“I'm an assistant to one of the photographers. But it doesn't really count since she's my aunt.”
“So not your first choice of career then? I know how that feels.”
“What, you mean you didn't dream of being a glorified slave to a spoiled star?”
I chuckled. “Oh, yeah, sure, this was what I always wanted to be when I grew up.”
“Are you from out of town too?”
“Montana. You?”
“Boston. Been here a year. You like it out here?”
I shrugged. “It's all right. Good nightlife, the people are friendly enough.” I didn't know why I mentioned the nightlife, as I hadn't experienced much of it in the eight months since I'd been here. It was the sort of thing people in the know talked about; and seeing as I didn't want her to think, and correctly, that I didn't get out much, I went with it. I just prayed she didn't ask me what my favorite bars were.
We chatted energetically through the duration of the shoot, Autumn and the others fading into the background. While everyone was preoccupied watching two of the three members of A-in-S pose naked, their guitars positioned stealthily in front of them to conceal their bits, we were wrapped up in ourselves.
For over an hour we chatted and laughed, muffling our giggles behind our hands so as not to disturb anyone. I thought we were quiet. But Autumn's croaky shout across the room stopped the laughter abruptly.
“You're not here to make friends, you're here to work, Elle. I'm thirsty.”
I closed my eyes and let out a steady breath. Whenever I managed to forget for a short while that this wasn't my life, that she wasn't my life, she would eventually remind me by being her reprehensible self and putting me back in my place.
“I'm right on it,” I called back, the chill in my voice only half hidden by false politeness.
“I'll show you where we keep the drinks,” Trish said.
I smiled to myself, feeling strangely victorious about this. Autumn's goal in sending me to get her some water was to see to it that I wasn't entertained, that I couldn't “make friends”, as she'd put it. But with Trish joining me on the short excursion, she'd failed.
We were gone for ten minutes, though we only needed one, taking the other nine to hang out and talk uninterrupted. In that time I hoped that Autumn would turn to dust from being so thirsty.
“Do you like poetry? A friend of mine is doing a poetry slam next week, and I was wondering if you wanted to come along,” Trish said on our way back from the kitchen.
“Sure. I love poetry.” Another fabrication. At least, I didn't hate poetry. But growing up with an English teacher for a mother, poetry had been like the crazy uncle you put up with at Thanksgiving, but could have lived without. I wanted to believe I was hip enough to appreciate performance poetry.
No sooner had we exchanged numbers and returned to the basement, where the shoot was being held, than an incensed-looking Autumn charged over to me. She snatched the bottle from my hand. “What were you doing, fetching it from a well?” she grumbled. Her attention turned to Trish then, a suspicious look on her face. “And there I thought my assistant was capable of getting me a bottle of water without an assistant of her own.”
“Sorry I took so long,” I said hurriedly, afraid that my new friend would get the special Autumn treatment she usually bestowed upon me.
She looked at u
s both in turn, the guilty duo, and I could almost see the cogs in her head moving, trying to work out what was happening. She stood before us in a silk gown, her hair and makeup done to perfection, one side of the gown slightly fallen off her shoulder, revealing the top of her breast. An incongruous image – such anger with such beauty.
“Go get the car ready. I'll be down in five,” she said finally. “I trust you can do that alone.”
I knew what she was saying: no more socializing, with Trish or anyone. I couldn't believe what a controlling bitch she was being. But I said my farewells to Trish, thankful that we'd already exchanged numbers.
Five minutes became twenty as I sat in the car waiting for Autumn to come out. She was keeping me waiting on purpose, to get back at me for the water incident. But I was too excited about my forthcoming date to care, even if it was at a poetry slam. Before long I became consumed with thoughts of what I would wear, how I would style my hair. The little smile on my face I thought would never disappear.
And then Autumn stepped into the car. “What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.”
“I'm obviously not doing a good enough job of making your life a living nightmare if you're smiling for no reason.”
If nothing else you had to admire her honesty. I actually laughed, which didn't go down well with her. But it took a couple of minutes before she broached the subject that had caused my good mood; the first couple were spent bellyaching about how much she despised photo shoots, and people in general, if she wasn't sleeping with them.
“If they're not in my bed, I have no use for them,” she explained. I never understood why she felt the need to justify and explain to me the reasoning behind her promiscuity. It was as though she wanted to solidify in my mind the image I had of her.
A beat of silence passed, until, “Who was the broad?”
“Who?”
She tutted. “The soft butch you got lost with on your way to the kitchen.”
Soft butch? I wasn't familiar with the term.
“Just a photographer's assistant.”
“Camaraderie among assistants.” She laughed cruelly. “What were you doing, exchanging notes about how to be the best gofer in the world?”
“Something like that.” My complete lack of reaction to her inciting comments promptly caused her cackling to cease, precisely as I'd predicted. Having spent hour after hour in her company for two-and-a-half months, I'd gotten to know some of the things that made her tick. Not falling for her insults was high on the list, as she did everything she could to get a rise out of me.
I felt her gaze on me as I drove. “From where I was sitting it looked a lot like flirting. But then I said to myself, no, that can't be right. Little Miss Perfect doesn't swing that way.”
I was Little Miss something new every day to her. Little Miss Never Been Screwed (she loved that one, and had used it more than once), Little Miss Judgmental, Little Miss Montana. I'd actually come to look forward to what she would come up with next, weird though it was.
But something about what she'd said stuck out, astounded me. How long had she been watching us to form the opinion that we were flirting? I hadn't even noticed we were doing it. I had always been oblivious to that sort of thing.
“We were just talking.” I risked a quick glance at her, and saw that her gaze was still on me. “Making smalltalk.”
“Well, in case it wasn't just smalltalk, you should be aware that chances are she was speaking to you in order to get close to me. Happens all the time.”
Now she had succeeded in ruffling my feathers. I swallowed my ire and focused on the road, trying to block her from my side vision. If there was a way to crash the car without harming myself, I would have. My plan was to ignore her, but the words resounded through my head, making it impossible to.
“What are you trying to say, that no one would find me interesting enough to talk to if I didn't work for you?”
“I hate to break it to you, but I'm probably the most interesting thing about your life.”
“You don't know anything about my life.”
“You don't have one, not really. You're with me all day, every day. You don't have time to have one.”
“My nights are my own,” I said. She was only getting to me because everything she said was true. Since becoming her slave, I didn't have a life to speak of. In the beginning, the days had been short, with her dismissing me only after a few hours, but more recently she'd demanded more of my time, even some of my evenings. For someone who proclaimed she was independent, she sure needed me around a lot.
“Mostly. But what do you do with them? You never turn up hungover the next morning, or covered in hickeys, or wearing last night's outfit. You're twenty-four going on eighty!”
“I'm sorry you think that getting wasted and hooking up with random people constitutes living.”
“Your new friend, she looks like she likes to party. Does she know what a buzz kill you are?”
“She'll get to know all about me soon enough. We're going out next week.” It felt good to say it. My intention had been to keep my date a secret, but her teasing had forced the confession from my lips.
Her silence seemed to go on forever, until suddenly she said, “Wow, I really misjudged you. My gaydar is usually impeccable when it comes to women, but you, you completely eluded me. It must have been your sanctimonious, holier-than-thou air that concealed your gayness. I thought no one as stuck up as you could ever be into girls. Color me surprised.”
I didn't speak, only hoped that she had finished. But she continued.
“I do have real concerns for you, however, seeing as you're so embarrassed by the female anatomy,” she said with mock sincerity.
“I'm not embarrassed by the female anatomy, I just don't want to see you naked.”
Through the corner of my eye I saw her smile fade, and I knew that my words had inadvertently stung. They hadn't come out the way I'd intended. What I meant to say was that I didn't wish to see my boss naked, not that there was anything wrong with her body.
“I...I didn't mean...I don't want to see anyone naked is all I'm saying... Well, I mean, when the time's right... Erm, well we both know your body's perfect, you don't need me to explain myself...” So much for my save. I felt the burn all over my face and neck, and when I looked in the rear-view mirror I saw it there, too. If my first comment was bad, my “save” was a million times worse. Telling my boss that her body was perfect, and meaning it, what was I thinking? Oh, right, I wasn't.
Our eyes met briefly, before my embarrassment got the better of me and I looked away, back to the road, now desperate to reach our destination. I waited for her to speak, either to tell me I was fired, or to say something snarky and snide, as was her custom. But she said nothing, resulting in the longest and most gruesome fifteen minute drive of my life.
Punishment. She knew exactly how to dole it out.
EIGHT
“How long have we been friends?” Jess was perched at the foot of my bed, shooting me sulky, pouting looks. I could see her reflection in the mirror as I applied my makeup. She was great at pouting – had the lips and the big, puppy-dog eyes for it – but it wasn't going to work on me this time.
I let out a little laugh that made me smudge my eyeliner slightly. “A long time, but that isn't going to change anything.”
“And how long have you known this girl? Two weeks. That's it. Have you even kissed her?”
“Yes, and it's irrelevant anyway. You said you couldn't go, so I invited her instead.”
“But now I can, and I really, really want to!” She stamped her feet like a child. Seeing her, no one would have believed that this ill-tempered girl was a lawyer, and a pretty good one at that.
“We've been over this. I can't uninvite her. She's looking forward to it.”
“Of course she is, she gets to rub shoulders with the rich and famous. At least I wouldn't be there to star-gaze.”
“No, you'll just be shopping for new
clients.”
She groaned. “I'll have to seriously reconsider being your friend if you don't take me with you.”
“Next time. There'll be plenty of events when they go back on tour this summer.”
“But there won't be another album wrap party for years. This is where I need to be.”
I turned to her, matching her pout with one of my own. “Sorry, love.”
She groaned again. Although I knew she was disheartened about not being able to come, I also knew she would get over it quickly. It didn't make me feel any less guilty, though.
“You must really like this girl if you're prepared to stab me in the back like this.”
I could only laugh. “I'm not stabbing anyone in the back. And I barely know her. This will be our third official date. She's nice.”
“Fingers crossed you let her get past first base.”
“God, you sound like Autumn. Just don't you tell me Trish is only talking to me so she can get close to her.”
“She said that?” I saw Jess's shock in the mirror.
“Yup. Such a bitch. I was interesting before her, right?”
Silence.
“Right?”
More silence.
“Oh my God, you don't think I was interesting before I started working for Autumn!” I spun around to see the betrayal more clearly.
“Of course you were...to me, but, well, I just don't think other people know what to make of you.”
“I can't believe this. So Autumn's right? I'm boring?”
“Not boring, just...”
“Prissy?”
She shrugged. “A bit. And some people can't wrap their heads around that.”
What a way to begin what I'd hoped would be a wonderful evening: learning that the only interesting thing about me was that I worked for a she-devil.
