by Tara Ahmed
As I breathed a sigh of relief, a girl sitting across from me, in the other side of the circle, stared quizzically at me. Her long, sunny blonde locks were tied in a high pony tail, as the light of the room, illuminated her pinkish complexion. Her plump lips were glossed with red, matching her red crop top which revealed an outie belly button. Her black leggings were so tight, they looked painted on her curvy frame, and I wondered whether she was cold. The air conditioning was so high in the room, that I had buttoned my white cardigan up to my neck.
My brows rose, as she stood, skipping over to me- taking the seat next to mine. I gave her a curt nod- smiling.
“You’re Dorothy Web, right?” she whispered excitedly, as though my name were a secret.
I nodded. “That’s me. But, how did you know?—“
She clapped her hands like a seal, her bright green eyes- shining.
“I knew it,” she said. “This is going to sound totally nosy, but I have got to know. You’re like seriously married to James Bellevue? Like…THE James Bellevue?”
Crap.
“Yeah,” I replied. “But…I don’t really want to discuss my personal life—“
She shook her head, looking embarrassed.
“Oh, I totally understand!” she said. “I’m Stacy Kendrick, by the way.”
She extended her hand, smiling brightly.
“Nice to meet you, Stacy,” I said, shaking her small hand. “You know when Professor Bukowsky’s going to be here? It’s already two minutes after class and he’s not here yet.”
“He’ll come soon,” she assured. “I took his class last year, for Monologue 101, and he came a few minutes late sometimes. I think it’s because he’s having an affair with the vocal 202 Professor—“
“What? You can’t be serious,” I said.
She nodded, leaning her head towards me, her large eyes- narrowed.
“Oh, believe me,” she continued. “They’ve got this thing going on—“
“Mrs. Jenner is the vocal 202 Professor,” I said slowly. “She’s married.”
Stacy rolled her eyes, looking at me as though I were a naïve child.
“Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy,” she sang. “Married people can fall in love…with other people—“
“But that’s wrong,” I snapped. “I mean, yeah I know people do have affairs, but Mrs. Jenner isn’t like that. Her husband would come every day after class to give her a bouquet of flowers, and she would even invite him to give lectures some times. They really love each other—“
Stacy laughed, shaking her head.
“She was just being a good wife,” she said. “Whatever that means. Anyways, the point is…all those bouquets that her husband got her every day, lost their fragrance. She got bored of him, and the routine of marriage. Life needs some spice, Dorothy, and Mrs. Jenner’s husband, just wasn’t giving her what she needed. So she got that much needed spice…from a different store.”
I shook my head. “You just compared Mr. Bukowsky to a store.”
“Well, whatever,” she said. “You know what I mean. But anyways, forget that…let me give you some advice.”
“Advice? About what?—“
“About your marriage,” she insisted. “Listen, you look all bright eyed, and innocent, like all those girls that have no idea what they’re getting into in a relationship. In other words, you’re totally clueless—“
“You can’t assume things about me, and my marriage is really none of your business—“
“Just hear me out,” she said. “Alright, so what I’m trying to say is…that you’re the perfect target to get cheated on. You honestly look like you wouldn’t even notice if a guy cheated on you. That’s just my view, and I’m really perceptive. Trust me, I am. Anyways, so you’re married to this hot, crazy rich, heir, and he’s got this reputation of being a womanizer. He’ll most likely end up cheating on you, just because it’d be so easy to. Wait, don’t cut me off! Shush!! But…if you want to prevent him from touching another woman…then you’ve got to wrap him around your little finger, and make him obsess over you. The one who loves their partner more is the one who doesn’t stray. So make sure he wants you a heck of a lot more than you want him.”
I almost laughed.
The only person James could ever love in a romantic sense- would be his clone if he had one.
Not wanting to make a big deal of the situation, I decided to humor myself.
“I’m guessing you’ve been hurt a lot,” I said. “You seem to know a lot about the dealings of affairs.”
She sighed dramatically. “I have. I don’t get it. I’m a great catch!”
I couldn’t reply to that, since I had just met her, and she’d managed to insult me, poke into my married life, and gossip about that which she doesn’t know. But, she had clear, kind eyes, and I could tell she didn’t mean anything bad. A lot of people probably hated her because of her bluntness, but it amused me that she refused to think before she spoke. It was like her brain was on pause.
Loud footsteps made their way through the auditorium, as we all turned to stare at the man approaching the staircase. His bald, brown head, glistened against the light of the room, as he walked up the steps, and through the circle of the class, taking a seat at the center of the room, across from me. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and wasn’t in the best shape, for his belly protruded out of his off white Hawaiian dress shirt. His faded blue jeans looked like something out of the 90’s, as he sat on the metal chair, his legs slightly parted. His black briefcase rested in his lap, as he opened it, taking out a thin sheet of paper. But as I took a moment to look at him, I realized that he wasn’t bad looking and must have been quite the catch during his younger years.
He began taking attendance, and when he said my name, I answered, “here”. His dark brown eyes stared at me for a moment, and then nodded, looking away.
“Alright,” he said. “Looks like you’re all here. Except for a few that missed the first day. Shame on them and good on you guys for being on time! Let’s just get things started, shall we? I’m going to pass out a bag full of tiny, cut out pieces of paper, and it’s going to say an action that you must perform. For example, if your paper says “sad”, then you must portray a sad person as best as you can. Create your own monologue on the spot, and make me believe in the character! Make me feel your character! The student who I feel did the best job- will get five points extra on the first exam. Are we clear?”
We nodded.
“This is exciting,” Stacy whispered. “But you know something funny? Last year, some girl had to act out the word “sex”, and it was the funniest thing ever! Oh, gosh, just thinking about it makes me laugh—“
“What’s with the chit chat, ladies?” Mr. Bukowsky stared at Stacy, then at me- his brow raised. “If you want to talk, you can leave the room—“
“My bad!” said Stacy. “We’ll be super quiet!”
We? I wasn’t the one talking.
Ugh. I rolled my eyes, wanting this class to be over with. Stacy was giving me a headache.
When the small zip lock bag was passed over to me, I took out a small, white, folded piece of paper- then passed the bag over to Stacy. I stifled a yawn, as I opened the sheet of paper. But when I saw my given word draped in black ink over the sheet, I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I had read wrong.
Lust.
Lust?
I groaned inwardly, wondering how I was supposed to act that out. For a moment, I wanted to blame Stacy for jinxing my luck. Great. Now I was going to become a laughable memory like that girl who had to perform the word “sex”.
Great. Just freaking great.
“Yay! I got happy!” Stacy’s voice chirped loudly, so loud, that everyone turned to stare.
I shrunk in my seat, horrified at my bad luck.
But then, I realized something. I was being immature. After all, my dream was to become an actress, and if “lust” was what I had to act out, then I had to do the most convincing job I could. So what
if I embarrassed myself? Acting is about becoming the character, and that’s exactly what I would do.
Name after name were called to act out their word, and everyone had been doing a fairly clumsy job. They all had negative comments from Professor Bukowsky who kept saying, “more conviction next time! Be the character! Feel the character.”
“Ms. Web,” he called. “It’s your turn. What is your word?”
I hesitated. “Lust.”
All eyes turned on me, gaping.
Ignoring their stares, I stood, walking to the center of the circle. I had thought about what I would do, and though it would be odd, and possibly get me arrested for sexual harassment, it was the only way I could present my character.
My eyes traced over the room, as I smiled slowly at everyone, and then briskly turned, facing the Professor. My gaze darkened, as I stared at him with a passion brimming in my eyes.
He looked taken back, as I began to unbutton the first three buttons of my cardigan, and then stopped. He crossed his arms over his chest, his cheeks flushing a light pink, as I dropped to my knees, and crawled towards him. I stood two feet apart from him, staring intensely at him, as I slowly took out the rubber band from my pony tail. My orange strands fell over my shoulder, as I gave him a final look of sheer desperation, my chest heaving with a silent rhythm.
He gulped, as his ears turned a shade of plum.
Grabbing the black rubber band from the ground, I stood, wrapping my hair in a ponytail once more.
“That was my portrayal of ‘lust’,” I said.
He cleared his throat, and then coughed.
“That was…that was…quite the performance, Ms. Web,” he said. “You may…um…take your seat.”
All eyes were pinned on me, some mouths hanging open, as I took a seat, ignoring their scrutiny. My cheeks burned, but I ignored the feeling of embarrassment, for it was part of being an actor. I had to perform the role given, and acting out the word “lust” was really freaking hard. I hadn’t lusted over anyone before, so I didn’t know what that felt like. And I hadn’t had anyone lust over me. I only remembered characters from movies I’d seen, and tried to channel them. I wished Professor Bukowsky would have told me how I did, and what needed improvement. What kind of teacher was he?
“That was hot,” I heard some guy whisper.
“She looks kind of familiar,” a girl said.
“You think she’s a stripper, or something? I mean…she totally looked like one right? It was like she was giving the teacher a lap dance with her eyes, or something. Gross.” said someone else.
Ugh. Perverts.
When class ended, Stacy caught up to me outside of the room, linking her arm around my elbow.
“That was so awesome,” she squealed. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”
I shrugged. “Thanks. Yours was good too—“
“The Professor loved it,” she said suggestively.
I frowned. “That’s creepy. I was just performing the word—“
She laughed. “Chill out! It’s not like I’m saying he’s going to fall in love with you or something—“
“You’re seriously grossing me out,” I said. “He’s almost forty!”
She smiled. “Who cares about his age? You’re a married woman! I bet your husband would hate it if he saw you do what you did today—“
I pushed away from her.
“Stacy,” I snapped. “Could you knock it off? I was just acting.”
She frowned. “Don’t get mad.”
I sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I got to go.”
For the next two hours, I eat lunch alone in a local diner, flipping through the jobs classified section in the newspaper. James had me quit my job at Hotel Bellevue, since he said it would create complications with our marriage contract if I was to work as a “lowly maid”. I didn’t have to write a resignation letter either, since he said he would “handle” everything on that matter on his own. I didn’t like working as a maid anyway, so I didn’t complain.
But I still needed a job.
As I circled a post labeled “administrative assistant,” my phone rang. April’s name flashed over the screen, as I pressed it against my ear, greeting her.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
“Dorothy! Come home right now! You aren’t going to believe this. Bye!” She sounded out of breath, and before I could question what she meant, she hung up.
When I entered my apartment, April sat on the couch next to a tall woman, who looked like a professional wrestler dressed in a blue, nurse’s uniform. Her brunette hair was tied in a tight bun behind her head, as she stared sternly at me. She looked like one of those nurses from horror movies. April’s purple locks bounced in a high ponytail atop her head, as she stood, running towards me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re moving out?” Her light blue eyes bulged, as she shook my shoulders.
“What are you talking about? I’m not moving out! And who is that?” I glanced at the woman sitting still on the couch.
“I’m Judy,” the woman replied.
I walked around April, standing before the mysterious lady.
“And why are you here?” I tried to sound polite, but knew it came off as rude.
Judy looked taken aback, and confused herself, as she tilted her head to the side- her bushy brow, raised.
“I brought her here.” A familiar voice perked my ears, as James walked out of the kitchen, striding towards me.
There was a mischievous smile on his face, as though he were hiding a dangerous secret. I narrowed my eyes, taking a step back, as he neared.
“Why?” I asked.
He smirked. “She’s going to look after April when you move out. Before we got married, you agreed to the rules of our partnership. I mean, you didn’t really think you could live here while we’re married did you?”
Oh, no. I didn’t like where he was going with this. I didn’t like where he was going with this at all.
“What are you saying?” I asked. “Say it straight.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“You can’t stay here,” he said. “We’re married now, Princess…so let’s at least act the part. Pack your things, because from today, you’re living with me.”
Chapter Ten
Though he was twenty eight, the impish glint in his golden brown eyes, made him appear no older than ten.
Placing my palm against my forehead, I stared incredulously at him. My eyes raked over the slight grin against his lips, to his black Armani t-shirt, which probably cost more than my rent, before stopping on his shoes. Leather skin from an alligator or snake, I couldn’t tell- covered his feet, which I assumed only the highest paid masseuses had touched.
In his mind, he was a Prince of sorts, who could obtain whatever he wanted with only a snap of his fingers. To him, I was nothing more than his personal marionette- someone he thought he could pull in whichever direction he pleased.
Well, he was wrong.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I spoke slowly. “It’s been three days since we met, and the only reason I agreed to marrying you is for the shelter. You can’t take advantage of me like this—“
He shook his head, taking slow steps towards me.
“Dorothy, sweetheart, you’re getting it all wrong,” he said. “You’re thinking with your heart, not your head—“
“He’s right,” said April.
I snapped my eyes to my friend, who sat on the couch next to Judy, the supposed “nurse”. I narrowed my gaze, focusing on the older woman, who, now that I looked closer- appeared to be a mix between Italian and Japanese. She had a poised stance- her back straight against the soft woolen couch.
Ugh. My head was spinning, as I didn’t know what to focus on first—the mysterious nurse, or James’s stupid idea that I should move in with him.
“Don’t take his side,” I told April.
Narrowing my eyes at the woman, who stared blankly at me, I
turned once more to James.
“Can you leave?” I asked quietly. “This is getting out of hand, and I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, but you’re never going to get me to move in with you, so just lose the dream—“
He laughed. “Can you hear me out at least?—“
“No,” I snapped. “There’s no reason we should live together. None—“
“There are plenty of reasons,” he insisted. “Number one, you’re married to one of the richest heirs in the world. Number two, Paparazzi’s will follow your every move, and believe me, they will find out that you’re stilling living in this shack you call home, and when they do find out, our entire plan will come crashing down like fucking dominos—“
“That’s not true,” I said. “There has to be a way. I can’t live with you, I just can’t!”
He walked towards me, placing both hands on my shoulders- and leaning down so that we were eye level.
“You’ve got to leave Kansas someday, Dorothy.”
I snorted. Did he really just say that?
He smiled. “Besides…you haven’t got a choice in the matter. What? Did you think that all you had to do was sign the marriage certificate, sit back on your ass, and just wait for the year to end?”
I pushed his hands off my shoulder, and took a step back- glaring.
“I didn’t think anything like that,” I snapped. “I just…we can’t live together!—“
“Why the hell not?”
The friendly eyes I was used to seeing, flashed in anger, as he rushed towards me. His enraged stare surprised me, as he charged towards me. I walked backwards till my back hit the wall, my brows rising at his intense stare. James slammed a hand against the wall, and leaned his face towards me.
When I moved to the side, trying to get around him, he placed his other hand against the wall beside my head, caging me.
“Move,” I said. “Now.”
He laughed. “Not until you hear me out. It’s like you’ve got cotton stuck in those little ears, because whenever I say anything, you refuse to listen—“
I sighed. “Fine. Talk. But take a step back first. I can hear you without having to feel your breath in my mouth.”
