by Larkin Rose
Eve’s breathing calmed while Jodi fought for discipline. Maybe she should consider dropping Eve from her tiny list of phone clients. Or finally disconnect the private line altogether. She’d been considering it for many years, never truly having a reason to, yet never having a reason not to.
“I’m pathetic. I have a room full of people. Everyone bidding for my attention.”
“Sounds enticing, everyone bidding for you.”
“It’s not. I feel suffocated sometimes.” Eve sighed. “That’s not true. Not completely. Shit, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Jodi wasn’t sure if she should be paying attention, yet she was like a monkey on a branch, hanging on Eve’s every word, too afraid she’d miss some pivotal information to explain why her heart swayed every time she called. Every time she came.
“Are your people safe for you to return to now?”
Eve chuckled and Jodi could tell she was dressing. The fact calmed her. The fact that Eve was no longer naked, and alone, with only Jodi’s—Lexi’s—voice to keep her company. For as often as she talked about people, crowds, and commotion, she was alone, and Jodi could hear the loneliness too often.
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Then mission accomplished.”
“The rain is beautiful.”
Jodi snapped her attention to the window, to the glimmering purple rain. Something clamped tight in her soul.
“But you hate the rain.” Jodi tensed. Rona’s warning words rang loud. If you insist with this foolishness of keeping your sex line, let me give you a little advice. Do not let their personal confessions in the throes of passion break you. These women are lonely for a reason only they need know. Give them the pleasure they seek. Nothing more. Never let their words reach your heart.
Too late for that. Rona was right. She’d gotten too comfortable with Eve, shared things she’d never shared with another, not even to Amelia.
“I do hate the rain. But I think I can see why you love this…I mean the rain. For some reason, today I want to get naked and run until I’m drenched and owned by it.”
Jodi found herself in a trance, watching the rain sparkle like diamonds against the panes. Why had she shared that part of herself with Eve? It’d been too personal. It’d been a delicate piece of her heart that belonged only to her. Had she shared it because Eve had offered a part of herself to Jodi? To Lexi?
She fingered a small stream from inside the window, wondering if the rain smelled as fresh in New York as it did in London. Was it as potent and tranquilizing? Could it make Eve feel as cleansed as Jodi’s rain did?
Jodi wasn’t supposed to care. Yet she did. For some reason, she did. Not only that, she wanted to know what Eve looked like. She wanted to know if that sultry voice matched her outer beauty. She could be butt-ugly, missing a mouthful of teeth. She could be the hunchback’s baby sister. Either way, Jodi wanted to know. She almost needed to know.
Rona was probably spinning in her grave.
Jodi was doing it.
She was getting attached to the client.
Chapter Five
Jodi wheeled her Lincoln Navigator into the appointed staff parking area, then followed an obvious group of models through the barriers and traffic cones. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, pretending to ignore their lame conversation about killer photo shoots, catwalk disasters, and all the grueling work it took to stay on top of the modeling tree. These kids didn’t know what grueling meant. They were sheltered behind their perfect lives with Mommy and Daddy jumping at their every whim. Clueless. They were clueless to what really lurked outside their bubbled glass world.
Thankfully, she was wearing sunglasses to hide her impatience. Models were so damn boring. And thin. Well, weren’t they supposed to be? She took a better inspection. Only one of the women was skeletally thin. It was grotesque, the lack of any visible meat and the lack of curve appeal. To the world, she was sure the one appeared glamorous and beautiful. To Jodi, she looked like a past. Her past.
She was surprised to see the other two actually looked normal. Not too thin. She wondered how they’d fare at the auditions or how quickly the designer would favor the rod-thin one and send the others home. God knew, the anorexic one would win the spot on the catwalk, fragile bones and all.
They also made her think of Zara, the sexy and alluring millionaire she’d escorted on several occasions to some elaborate party or ballroom gala. Zara never missed a fashion event with her tight-knit group of rich friends, and she always spent a small fortune on new designs. She was a fashion groupie, so to speak, living off Daddy’s allowance, who’d never worked a day in her life. They’d shared some good times together, even better nights. She was a hellcat in bed and didn’t much like Jodi’s stone butch demeanor, something Jodi couldn’t and wouldn’t change, not even for a good fuck, and definitely not for any amount of cash.
The women entered the lobby of the theater, giggles erupting like a clarion of bells, and immediately rushed to the right and disappeared behind a door marked Private.
Jodi moved farther into the building, thankful she wouldn’t have to listen to the quarrelsome chatter a second longer. Brick-red carpet with a gold paisley design led her to the grand foyer. An elongated brass chandelier hung dead center of the room, casting bright blue droplets against the walls and floor.
Row upon row of plush red velvet-covered chairs lined both sides of the long catwalk. Silver silk lavishly draped the entrance to the stage from ceiling to floor and then rippled down both sides of the runway to the circular podium at the end. The shimmering rivulets drew her to this focal point where the models would pause, turning to show off the designer’s creations from every angle before moving back up the runway, passing the incoming model at the halfway point. Jodi wasn’t alien to the fashion world. She’d escorted a client or two to such events. However, she’d never been behind the scenes or witnessed the show at the last-minute dash to perfection.
Jodi followed the noise, pushing her way around groups of people until she found what seemed to be the center of a battle zone. Shocked at the steady stream of people dashing to one station or another, Jodi pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. The only thing missing from this full-on war scene was military fatigues and tanks, dead bodies, and the stench of gunpowder. In its place were hordes of workers bellowing and barking orders, some over walkie-talkies, and each raising his voice to outdo the other.
Unsure which direction to go, Jodi scanned the room while people bumped and pushed around her as if she were in some imaginary path.
Relief overwhelmed her as she spotted Amelia, her hair pulled on the crown of her head in a messy bun, a pencil tucked over one ear, and a camera lens focused on the glamorous runway. Jodi rushed to her side like a lost toddler to a mother. She’d never seen so much controlled chaos in her life. She much preferred the after-scene, when everyone had their shit together.
“How can you think coherently in this place? I thought I’d walked into a rehearsal for a war movie.” Jodi sidled next to Amelia just in time to avoid a collision with a woman barreling through the throng with a rack of clothing trailing in her wake.
“We’re not working here. I just needed a visual and measurements of the runway before I started working on the props.” Amelia turned, a smile fading from her lips, replaced by a chastising glare. “What the…why the hell are you wearing that billboard shit? You came here to work. This is not your sexual playground.”
Jodi glanced down her body, at her long-sleeved white button-down shirt ending untucked over a pair of dark blue jeans. “You said you needed my brute strength. Nothing was mentioned about getting dirty.” She leaned closer. “Everywhere is my sexual playground. You know that.”
Amelia blew a blond wisp of hair from her cheek. “Don’t make me get all kung fu on your ass. I can take you.”
Jodi spun her phone accent into gear as she angled her head and leaned closer. “Would you tie me down and spank me too?”
Ameli
a snapped her hands on her hips. “Stop using that damn phone voice on me, you wannabe Brit.” She started back through the crowd.
Jodi hurried to keep up. “Where are you going?”
Amelia easily dodged a group of people at the entrance and stepped out of the building. Without looking back, she walked against the wall under the awning. A few doors down, she ducked into a building and turned a glare on Jodi. “My new boss snagged this studio. We’ll be working here all week. And you better behave, got it?”
“Ahhh. I forgot we had an in-living-color she-bitch in the house.” Jodi scanned the crowd, thankful this place wasn’t half as crowded as the last. “Please say she’ll grace us with her presence so I can tell her where to stick that perfectionist ass of hers.”
“Shhh!” Amelia clamped her fingers tightly around Jodi’s upper arm and tugged her behind a wall of workers who seemed obsessed with something on a computer monitor. They looked like statuettes, all bent at the waist, all with fingers to cheeks in deep concentration. Jodi had the impulse to yell “boo” to see how high they’d jump. “So help me God, Jodi, if you do anything to embarrass—”
“Whoa, whoa. I’m kidding, Amelia.” Jodi pulled her into a quick hug. The way her eyes bugged and her breathing hitched, she was on the verge of losing it. Jodi had never seen her react like this to pressure. Hell, Amelia was the epitome of tranquility. It was disturbing to see her on edge. “You need to chill out. You’re going to do an incredible job. Like you always do.”
“I…I just don’t want to fuck this up. This could be the long-awaited jump start, you know?” She sighed against Jodi’s chest and stepped out of the embrace.
“You’re not going to fuck up. You wouldn’t know how to.” Jodi chucked her chin. “Okay, boss, where do I need to pump my muscles?” She rolled up her sleeves and wiggled her brow.
A smile crept across Amelia’s lips, her cheeks rising to erase that worn expression.
Chatter rose behind them and Jodi turned to see a woman strutting across the carpet on very worn spiked leather boots. She sported a black thermal-type shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans. The smudged edges of an Aerosmith winged logo reached from one shoulder to the other of her shirt, and Jodi couldn’t take her eyes off the knotted white beads dangling between her breasts or the silver loop earrings hanging against her enticing tanned neck.
Jodi couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone dressed in everyday attire that still made it look like fashion ripped right off the front page of Vogue. She was sexy in a fun and easy kind of way, yet she bore an expression that screamed all business. Jodi wanted to fuck her.
A flock of men and women formed a semicircle around her like she was a major celebrity. Jodi didn’t have to hear the sharp intake of breath or see the look of fear in Amelia’s eyes to know the woman was her new boss.
And what a delightfully yummy boss she was. Standing barely 5′4″ on those pathetic excuses for boots, and her body language and rushed steps screamed power. Long raven curls bounced freely around her face and down her back and Jodi had an image of fisting the strands in her grasp while she pushed her down to her knees. She couldn’t force her gaze away as the group drew closer. The woman looked from one of her following to another as they dueled impatiently for her attention.
Jodi mentally begged to have those golden brown eyes lock on her, but the beauty only had eyes for her posse. They continued past without acknowledging the prop crew. Jodi studied her departure as carefully as she had her approach, needing that tight ass in the palm of her hands. Oh, what she could do with that lethal swing.
Amelia pinched her arm.
Jodi snapped out of her heated trance and covered the stinging spot with her hand. “Ouch, you violent woman! What was that for?”
“I suggest you pull that tongue back in your mouth before I snap it out with my pliers.” Amelia jabbed her finger toward the makeshift work area where her progress was already evident. Jodi spotted a two-foot-high wooden pedestal and lots of long, thin sticks. “Get your billboard ass over there. Now!”
Jodi pursed her lips but started walking, rubbing the soon to be bruise on her forearm. “Jealous?”
“Move your ass, Connelly.”
“Ooh, I love it when you call me that. Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“The boric acid in my tool box will give the same effect. Move.”
“With added sex stimulants? You’re making me wet.” Jodi glanced over her shoulder to make sure Amelia wasn’t too close on her heels. She had a hell of a slap. “I might touch myself.”
“The only thing you’re going to be touching is props.”
“Did you say a riding crop?” Jodi swerved around the props and a large toolbox, then turned to face her. “I never knew you had it in you, Amelia.”
“Shut up and get to work.”
“Aye, aye, boss lady.” Jodi saluted her. “But I’ll be thinking about you wielding that riding crop all day.” She wiggled her brow as Amelia rolled her eyes and ducked to pick up an array of stiff plastic poles.
Jodi smiled. Life was great. Here she was with no fear of ever going hungry again, the most important person still in her life and making an honest woman out of herself. Amelia didn’t miss too many chances to chastise Jodi about her chosen way of life or the array of women she kept on her schedule, the women Amelia claimed owned Jodi. That didn’t make her care less, only more. Jodi disagreed with her assertion. The women she “dated” might stuff her bank account with large denominations, but they didn’t own her. If anything, Jodi owned them. It was Jodi who supplied the sexual junkies their burning desires, kept them addicted to their fantasies. She was their drug.
Amelia’s biggest argument was that the love of Jodi’s life could have possibly already passed her by while she knelt between uncaring thighs. Was she right?
Jodi looked in the direction the bossy goddess had taken, and her crotch burned. Amelia would have a fit if she knew the erotic scenario running through her mind.
*
Eve slid into a chair behind the card table for the second time that morning. “Silence, everyone!” she barked over the rushed voices of her coworkers. Everyone hushed at once. Angelica, Roger, and three of her assistants sat with her, their wary eyes searching to see if her five-minute break had cooled down her temper. Khandi stood at the end watching the models carefully, almost feverishly.
Hell week had begun, starting with a five a.m. conference call in her hotel suite with Drinadine, the talent agency out of Paris. Eve had already chosen twenty models she would pick over during the pre-walk in three weeks for Paris fashion week. Frank, the CEO and founder, insisted she make a solid decision on fifteen before she arrived. He made some excuse about other commitments for some of the models. Eve didn’t give a shit. Either they wanted to wait it out to be part of one of the biggest fashion events of the year, or she would move on to some lesser venue. The choice was completely in their hands, and he had only wasted her morning shower time with nonsense, which only further pissed her off. She didn’t like having her precious time interrupted, especially by a prick with ideas above his station. He hadn’t liked being told that, either.
Running an hour behind schedule due to his pompous ass, she’d arrived at the studio only to have the normal raft of questions drilled at her. It had taken another hour to get everyone situated, which had kept her from introducing herself to Amelia, the owner of Ruccar, the new prop designer she’d hired on short notice for a trial run. Eve had been impressed with her credentials as well as the conference call. The woman had sounded strong and confident, a quality that was a must in her world. Now she’d have to see if the quality of her work outshined the competition.
And to top off her chaotic morning, a model had broken down in tears over a missing shoe. Eve had tried to have patience with her, allowing her extra time in her search while she went over the schedule with Roger and Khandi for the tenth time in two hours.
However, the more the model had c
ried, which only slowed her progress in the hunt, the more Eve’s aggravation had increased. She’d had no choice but to snap and yell at the lot of them.
She slapped her hands on the table and rose. “This is a respectable fashion show, ladies, not a fucking prom. I don’t have time for tears or dramatized hysterics. You who can’t seem to keep up with my merchandise, leave.” Eve ignored the model’s loud sobs as she raced from the room and turned a glare on the remaining wide-eyed beauties. “The rest of you, take five minutes to get your shit together. When I get back, I want to see professionals standing before me. We have a show to put on in less than four days. Have I made myself clear?”
Angelica had scrambled for her BlackBerry, no doubt to replace the missing spot on the runway while Eve stormed from the room in search of a nutrition bar and to get her temper back in check. Dammit, not being able to call Lexi was making her a total bitch.
Now, as she looked over the models standing along the back wall like they were victims awaiting a firing squad, Eve felt calm and collected. “Okay, ladies, let’s get this show on the road.”
One by one, the models walked and posed. Eve matched their photos to the sketches she’d paired them with earlier. Out of the twelve, she only switched two. She passed each confirmed match to Angelica, who made notes before sharing the photos with the hair and makeup artists. The artists would create their own vision of makeup, hair, and jewelry they wanted to complete the ensemble.
Finally, the last model turned and exited the room. Eve sighed and leaned back in her chair, anxious and excited, yet trimmed with dread. Anything could happen at this point. The release of a model was proof of that. She usually coped with each malfunction, managing to maintain a degree of composure in the process, but for some reason, today, everything had gotten under her skin until she wanted to scream or break something.
She needed Lexi to take her in hand and soothe her frustration.
