CON MAN

by T. Torrest

  It was about that time that Mia reached a stealthy hand over and pinched my arm, whispering, “I’m going to kill you,” through her teeth.

  I gave her a friendly shove toward the set. “Maybe later. Right now, you’ve got some weather to report. Don’t forget to smile!”

  She shot a dirty look at me but took her place in front of the screen.

  The next half-hour was the most entertaining thirty minutes of my life. Since Mia mentioned her love of rain, Harry had her dress in a yellow raincoat and matching hat, then handed her a red umbrella.

  She endured Harry’s lighting tests and blocking instructions with a friendly smile plastered to her face, but any time he looked the other way, she’d aim death glares at me. Once the cameras started rolling, however, she morphed into the epitome of professionalism. She hit her marks and read every word off the teleprompter like a champ. Fucking hysterical. Even better once she really got going.

  Mia flashed her newly-whitened smile as she pointed to the screen behind her, “...and then on Sunday, prepare for the clouds to go away. The sun will be making a welcome appearance, so make sure you soak up the last of those summer rays!”

  In an act of pure inspiration, she went off script to ditch the umbrella and toss her hat in the air à la Mary Tyler Moore before shooting a dazzling grin at the camera. “Time to lose the rubber boots and put on your fancy schmancy shoes! I’m Mia Cruz for WPZU. Have a great weekend, everyone!”

  It was physically painful to hold in my laughter. Seriously. I thought I was doing some major internal damage.

  It wasn’t until we were back in the car, buckled up, and engine started that Mia spoke to me. Even then, it was only to offer a single word. “Don’t,” she warned, stuffing her purse at her feet.

  My lips had been clamped together for a solid five minutes, so it was difficult to allow any words to escape without cackling, but... “Fancy. Schmancy. Shoes.”

  That was it. That was all it took. The dam broke.

  We both exploded in a burst of hilarity, the two of us literally holding our sides as we cracked up.

  “You jerk!” she admonished once she found her voice. “I can’t believe you made me do that!”

  “I can’t believe you did it!”

  She swiped a finger under her eyes and said, “Contract be damned. You owe me huge for this one! You’d better figure out a way to pay me back.”

  “Oh, I know it,” I shot back, putting the car in gear. “I’m prepared for you to make my life a living hell until I do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  In order to take advantage of all that smiling practice, I arranged for Ainsley to take part in a custom photo shoot. It was another two-for-one day in Swan World, as Jared would be the acting photographer.

  He’d shown me some shots he’d taken over the years just for fun. Photography had always been a passion of his, but only as something to do to pass the time. He’d never pursued it as a career. Until now. He’d spent the past twelve years fighting his way up the corporate ladder, making bank, and convincing himself he was content with his lot. Once he was fired, however, unemployment forced him to take stock of his life. He started thinking about a career change, and he’d come to me for the confidence makeover needed to strike out on his own.

  I was more than happy to hire him for his first paid gig.

  I rented out some equipment and arranged a studio space for Jared to do his thing. The place was owned by a past client of mine, so she had no problem with letting us take it over for the day. The “studio” was actually her apartment, a hip loft in SoHo—brick walls, exposed pipes, floor-to-ceiling windows—and I was grateful to Samantha for letting us use it.

  Ainsley was posed on a wooden bench against a rented white backdrop. She was clearly nervous, so we figured we’d start with some simple head shots to get her into the right frame of mind. Jared did a great job of easing her into the shoot, cracking jokes and putting his subject at ease.

  “You’re getting off easy,” he teased, moving the camera in closer. “For my smiling practice, he made me audition for a toothpaste commercial.”

  Ainsley and I both laughed as Jared snapped the shutter. Yeah, his audition was pretty funny, but I was only laughing because his comment reminded me about Mia playing weather girl the other day.

  It was pretty cool watching Jared in his element. The guy really knew his stuff. I felt a bit of pride that my training had brought it about.

  “How we doing, Ains?” I asked.

  “Oh, just fabulous, thanks.”

  That made me chuckle. I knew it was tough for Ainsley to be the center of attention, but after only a few minutes, she was already starting to come out of her shell.

  Jared lowered his camera and asked, “You think you’re ready to do a few full-body shots yet?”

  Ainsley stood up and held her hands out to her sides. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Our original plan was to do a head-to-toe body mural, but I didn’t think Ainsley’s modesty would permit her to be photographed in nothing but a thong, no matter how much paint was used to cover her up. Instead, she wore a fitted bodysuit and jean shorts, and Samantha concentrated her artwork over top of her clothes. She did a cityscape across her midsection, then expanded onto her skin to add some famous New York landmarks in an interlocking collage across the rest of her body. It was colorful and original and really looked terrific.

  I guess the camouflage allowed Ainsley to really get into the shoot, because she was able to concentrate on poses that best showed off the artwork instead of merely feeling like she were the focal point.

  Jared took a dozen pictures before he lowered his camera and furrowed his brows. “Wait. I just had a brilliant thought.”

  As it turned out, his genius idea was to take the shoot outdoors. Perfect. It was a gorgeous day outside and the natural light could only be an advantage. The three of us climbed out the window and navigated up the fire escape to the roof, hauling just the barest essentials along with us—Jared’s camera, the rented light umbrellas, and a folding chair.

  Jared set up near the exposed pipes of a rusty heating unit, and the setting served as a perfect backdrop for the cityscape painted on Ainsley’s skin. The fresh air really freed her up, too. She was able to relax and get into the spirit of the assignment, moving her body into elaborate poses as Jared snapped away.

  “I think you missed your calling as a model,” I joked as Ainsley giggled.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Don’t pay any attention to him, Ainsley,” Jared said. “You’re doing great.” He shot me a look over his shoulder, waggling his eyebrows, busting my balls. For the most part, he’d played it cool all day, and for that, I was grateful. I was worried about being exposed. But aside from a whispered, “Holy shit” when I first introduced them, he didn’t say anything about it at all. In fact, neither he nor Samantha made mention of my blatant flirting. They knew damn well that the extra attention wasn’t part of my job description, but thankfully, they didn’t call me out for it.

  After all, Bruce had a job to do, too.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m just happy to see you’ve been doing your smiling homework.”

  Ainsley huffed. “Homework? I did extra credit. I’ve been doing so much full-time grinning, my cheeks are sore!”

  She couldn’t possibly have appreciated the double-entendre of her statement as she chose that moment to turn her back to us, showing off the reverse side of the mural. I, however, appreciated the view of her “cheeks” quite a bit.

  She put her hands to her hips and looked over her shoulder, flashing a dazzling white grin that would rival any Miss America contestant.

  “Beautiful!” Jared exclaimed. “Hold it. Right there. Perfect.”

  He moved in close and snapped a few face shots before allowing her to break the pose.

  She shook out her hands and slumped her shoulders with a, “Phew! Hey, Luke. Forget about modeling. It’s a lot harder than it looks!”

&nbs
p; I crossed my arms and perched a hip on the perimeter wall. “I said you could be a model. Not that you should.”

  She shot me a look out the corner of her eye as she leaned against the wall next to me. She’d not only gotten comfortable with all the flirting I’d been indulging in but was learning how to play along.

  God help me.

  “Yeah, well, maybe we both have hearing problems. I said I liked art, not that I wanted to be art!”

  “A more beautiful masterpiece there never was,” I teased, trying not to smirk. My lips twitched anyway, causing her eyes to roll at my cheesy line.

  “It’s going to take three showers to wash all this paint off my body,” she said, holding her arm out for my inspection.

  I arched an eyebrow at her. “I’ll be happy to offer my services in that department.”

  “Luke, you’re so bad,” she said, slapping my chest playfully.

  Just as things started to get interesting, Samantha joined us on the roof, carting a basket filled with water bottles. “How’s it going up here?”

  When Sam first came to me, she was a skinny little pixie of a thing. Funny as all hell and totally adorable. She had just moved here from New Jersey and was having some trouble acclimating to the city. Plus, after years of living as an artist and spending her life in overalls, she didn’t really have much fashion sense. She took my course not only to learn how to dress, but to gain some New York City know-how.

  “Pretty damn good, Sammy,” I answered. “Thanks again for letting us use your place.”

  “Yeah, it’s perfect,” Jared piped in. “Check it out.” He held his digital camera out for her inspection, and Sam didn’t waste any time looking through the fruits of today’s labor.

  Ainsley took advantage of the break, grabbing two of the bottles from the basket and handing one to me. “Today was fun!”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I didn’t think I had it in me.”

  Had it in her. Heh heh.

  “I did. And what happened to all that positive thinking you were supposed to be doing this week?”

  Her eyelids lowered expertly as she took a sip from her water bottle, teasing me. “Don’t worry, Luke. I’ve been doing all my homework.” Just when I thought I couldn’t get worked up any more than I already was, she flicked a few droplets of water in my direction wearing the flirtiest grin I’d ever seen.

  Holy shit. I’ve created a monster.

  WEEK FIVE: AFFIRMATION

  Say yes

  Let go of inhibitions

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “It’s Bikini Day.”

  Mia and I had been walking through midtown, but she stopped dead at my pronouncement. “Bikini Day?”

  It took all my effort to keep from grinning. “Yes, ma’am.”

  We resumed walking again, Mia letting out with, “Do you mean ‘bikini’ literally? Like, that’s why you sent me to your little friend to ‘take care of any unwanted body hair’ yesterday?”

  “I’m invoking our ‘trust rule,’ here, Cruz.”

  “Fine. You’re the boss.” She rolled her eyes before adding, “But I’ll have you know that your wax girl is a sadist.”

  I was laughing as I stepped off the curb, and that’s when Mia grabbed my hand. Before I had a chance to wonder what was happening, she pulled me backwards just as a flash of yellow zoomed past. Holy shit. I almost got hit by a cab.

  “Holy shit! You almost got hit by a cab!” she shrieked, holding a palm across her heart.

  Whether she was too freaked out to realize or she was simply being over-cautious, she didn’t let go of my hand. I didn’t mind. It was nice.

  I led her into Barney’s, and sure enough, my personal shopper was already standing sentinel at the top of the stairs waiting to greet us. Corinne was middle-aged, thin as a rail, and a total class act. She and I had been working together for years.

  “Good morning, beautiful!” I greeted as we jaunted up the wide staircase. Corinne’s blush turned as burgundy as the dyed bun on top of her head at my compliment. “Corinne Cavanaugh, please meet your next victim, Mia Cruz. Mia, Corinne.”

  “Good morning to you both. Are we ready for Bikini Day?”

  Mia sighed and answered, “No. I’m still in denial that this is even happening.”

  Corinne smiled graciously before liberating Mia’s hand from my own. “Luke, go help yourself to some coffee, then meet us at the dressing room in about an hour.”

  Barney’s had an entire alcove set up for any beleaguered husbands to cool their jets while their wives racked up the credit cards. There were worse places to kill time. The room had brown leather couches, a TV, and a coffee bar, plus a wall of sporting magazines and newspapers. You know, men stuff.

  The two girls disappeared into a sea of designer racks as I made myself comfortable in the Men’s Lounge. I considered doing some shopping of my own, but I had a feeling I’d best stick around.

  That notion was confirmed about twenty minutes later as I heard a kerfuffle coming from the dressing room. As I made my way toward that section of the store, the voices became clearer.

  I stopped outside of the door just as Mia huffed, “But I LIKE the black one!”

  With the patience of a saint, Corinne explained, “I’m sorry, Ms. Cruz. I’m under strict orders. No beige. No gray. No black.”

  “But black is more… conservative.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s a bikini. There’s nothing conservative about it, regardless of its color.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Look! The girls are barely contained in this thing.”

  I heard the exasperated sigh coming from my client, and assumed those beautiful brown eyes were only seconds away from shooting flames. I figured I’d better step in to get Corinne out of the line of fire. “Mia? How’s it going in there?”

  She grumbled as Corinne cracked the dressing room door and slipped out. “Well, we zeroed in on the perfect suit, but Miss Cruz isn’t quite feeling it.”

  “I wanted black!”

  “No black, Cruz.”

  Corinne and I shared an eyeroll before she encouraged, “It really is a fantastic suit. Luke will agree with me. Come out and see for yourself.”

  “No.”

  “C’mon, Mia,” I said. “There’s no one else out here.”

  “There are floor to ceiling, three-hundred-and sixty-degree mirrors out there!”

  “That’s kinda the point.”

  She grumbled something unintelligible but finally stepped out of the dressing room. And when she did... My. Heart. Stopped.

  The bikini was an iridescent aqua, shimmery and alluring, attractive as all hell. The shiny fabric hugged her full hips and accentuated her curvy chest, visible even though she had her arms crossed over herself, concealing most of the view.

  I finally found my voice enough to comment, “My God, Mia. You look…”

  “Like a deranged mermaid?” she finished for me, throwing her hands out to her sides and allowing me a better view.

  “No,” I laughed, trying to maintain my cool. “Like a beautiful one.”

  I pointed to the mirrors on the wall, and Mia turned to look for herself.

  She rubbed a palm across her stomach, pushing at the rounded skin, sucking some air into her lungs to flatten her abdomen. She rolled her eyes and exhaled before attempting a different tact. She assumed a straighter posture, pulling her shoulders back and forcing “the girls” up and out.

  Mia’s head cocked to the side as she put her hands to her hips, her ponytail bobbing across her shoulder. “Huh. I guess this isn’t that bad.” She gave a half spin and peeked over her back. “And it kinda makes my butt look okay.”

  I’d been trying to keep my eyes off her luscious ass, but it was nearly impossible. Okay was an understatement. “Fuckin’ yeah it does.”

  Both women turned to gape at me in unrestrained shock.

  Shit.

  “I meant… That’s what I was trying to tell you before. You look grea
t.”

  Corinne shooed Mia back into the changing room to get dressed, and then we did a little extra shopping. I settled up the tab for the suit—plus a matching coverup, beach bag, and a pair of “you-owe-me-bigtime-for-this-so-I’m-buying-these” shoes—and then we headed out for the rooftop pool at the Marriott Marquis.

  The Marriott’s roof deck was one of many hot spots in the city. Famous faces mingled with not-so-famous ones, and there were always plenty of each to be found. I’d reserved a private cabana for the day, but we wouldn’t be spending much time in it. Today was all about being seen.

  Mia is going to hate it, I thought, smiling to myself.

  Taking over half of an entire city block, the deck was humongous. Four separate bars were stationed at each corner of the expansive pool; hundreds of lounge chairs and couches and tables filled the spaces in between. There was a retractable roof to turn the space into an indoor venue during the winter, but in September, it was still warm enough for open-air sunbathing, which was our order for the day.

  As Mia took in the view, I directed her toward our cabana and told her to get into her new suit.

  She was decidedly not happy about it. “Wait. I thought the exercise was to put on a two-piece. You didn’t say anything about me having to wear the thing in public!”

  “Just exactly what was the point in buying a new suit if you’re never going to put it on, Mia? It’s Affirmation Week. Saying yes to things. Being open to adventure, remember?”

  “Sure, if by ‘adventure,’ you mean ‘suicide mission!’”

  “What happened to the body-confident woman who reamed me out three weeks ago?”

  “She’d be a lot more body-confident in a black one-piece.”

  I laughed. “Trust rule, Cruz. You look fantastic in that thing. I promise you’ll be fine. Just think Caddyshack.”

  “What the hell?”

  “I thought you were the eighties movie expert. Please tell me you’ve seen that one.”

  “Yeah, of course I have. But what does it—”