by Roxy Wilson
Ms. Perfectly Imperfect
By
Roxy Wilson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses and incidents are from the author’s imagination or they are used fictitiously and are definitely fictionalized. Any trademarks or pictures herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks or pictures used are specifically in a descriptive capacity. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.
Editing By: Leanore Elliott
Cover Art: John Kennedy of Coverotic
© May, 2015. Roxy Wilson
Other Books by Roxy Wilson
Baby Wanted (A Bundle of Joy, Book 1)
The Baby Proposal (A Bundle of Joy, Book 2)
Baby, You’re Mine (A Bundle of Joy, Book 3)
Secret Baby Seduction (A Bundle of Joy, Book 4)
A Christmas Kiss (Holiday Happiness, Book 1)
Second Chance Christmas (Holiday Happiness, Book 2)
The Christmas Cupid (Holiday Happiness, Book 3)
Mistletoe Miracles
Loving St. Nick
Work It Out
The Right Kind of Love
He’s So Into You
Love in Black and White (Sam Crescent, Jamallah Bergman, Roxy Wilson, et al)
BLURB
Twenty-four-year-old, plus-size model, Layla Turner has sacrificed much and worked hard to be at the top of her game, concrete evidence that she was able to rise from the ashes of her past. Then her life suddenly changes when she starts losing her signature creamy, caramel brown hair that helped to set her apart from the rest of the pack. This mysterious illness could mark the end of her career—and the demise of her two-year relationship with her fiancé, Gage Shelton.
Pediatric oncologist, Dr. Clint Collins is a highly respected physician in his field. He has an excellent track record, as well as the love and confidence of the kids in his care. But something sinister is causing some of his young patients, who seem to be making a full recovery, to lose their battle with cancer. Not only does Dr. Collins feel somewhat responsible, but he also risks losing his job as he tries to uncover the truth behind his patients’ deaths.
Layla and Clint’s worlds collide when they meet each other for the first time at the General Hospital. Their attraction to each other is tangible, but while Clint is ready to give his heart, his love to Layla, she holds back, thinking that since she isn’t good enough for Gage, she certainly isn’t good enough for him.
Can the balding, plus-size model learn to appreciate her perfectly imperfect self and to give love a chance?
Get A FREE Roxy Wilson eBook!
Hello Reader,
Because I want to show you how much I appreciate that you supported me by purchasing Ms. Perfectly Imperfect, I’m offering you a FREE copy of my sweet, BWWM romance, A Better Man.
To receive it via email, all you need to do is Click here.
Thank you, and I look forward to your continued support.
Regards,
Roxy
Chapter One
Just be smart enough to know when “enough is enough.” You can’t complain about somebody crossing the line, if you fail to set the boundaries. You can’t complain about somebody wasting your time, when you didn’t require them to earn it…Not everything is meant to be a “forever” kind of thing…You can’t give people too many chances to make the same “mistakes.” ~Robert Hill Sr.
The music pumping out of the speakers set the mood. Effortlessly, Layla shifted from one pose to another as her friend and photographer, Asher clicked the pictures. She’d been at it for the past three hours and was finally feeling a little drained.
“Take a break, guys,” Asher stated in a commanding voice as he put down the camera.
With a sigh of relief, Layla stepped off the rug and headed for her chair. “I’m hungry.”
“We’ve got cream of mushroom soup and some chicken salad,” Asher replied as he flopped next to her. “Hey, Jo,” he called to the guy responsible for the props. “Change the background and put a fan in the right corner. I want her hair to fly in the breeze.” Then he turned to Layla with a smile. “It’s time for you to get into a new costume, Layla.”
“Give me two minutes.” She picked up the bowl of cream of mushroom soup her assistant placed on the table. People thought that a model’s job was glitzy and exciting. Well, it was and yet, it was also draining and exhausting. She’d been up since five, spent two hours getting her makeup and hair done, and then spent another hour deciding on the costumes. Then after three hours of more work, she was nowhere close to done. It would be at least seven in the evening before she would be allowed to leave—but of course, Asher’s pictures were always terribly attractive and glamorous—well worth the effort.
She ate quickly, aware that he sat there eagerly waiting for her to change into new clothes.
“How is Gage?” Asher asked as he checked the pictures he’d already taken on the camera.
A brief tingle of delight coursed up her spine at the mention of his name. Layla thought about her fiancé, the handsome and charming Gage Shelton. The perfect man, and although his career moved in a different path than hers, they were in sync about everything else. He was an investment banker and doing very well. “Gage is fine, doing great actually. He’s due for a promotion soon, and we’re finally talking about meeting his parents.”
Asher scratched his cheek as he observed his assistant who was putting on a new background. “I can’t believe that you guys have been together for two years, engaged for five months, and you still haven’t met his parents.”
Layla felt a little uncomfortable talking about Gage, but Asher was a good friend and cared about her. He didn’t thrive on gossip. She could trust him. “They don’t live in New York, then there’s my work schedule, and his work…” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s been a pain to fix a date, but they’re in town, so I’m going to see them soon.”
“Do they have anything against you?” Asher lowered his voice, even though they were alone in their corner. He understood that anything she said could leak to the press and a major hoopla could be made over her words. “Perhaps, they don’t approve of you?”
The spoon that she was lifting up to her mouth halted as she glanced over at one of her closest friends. Asher and she had known each other for far too long and were way too close to hide much from each other. “Gage hasn’t said anything, but I guess they don’t like the idea of him dating a model.”
Asher grimaced. “Why? What’s wrong with models?”
Layla thought about all the condemnation she’d received from various sources. Many people held models high on a pedestal, but a number of detractors existed who thought girls like her were wild and unpredictable. Some people even thought of them as ticking time bombs. She’d heard it all before and ignored it most of the time, but sometimes it hit too close to home. This was one such incident. “We’re supposed to be addicted to a number of drugs, anorexic, and high maintenance,” she recounted all the terrible things that she often heard behind her back. “And that’s just for starters. Anyway, his parents are old-fashioned. I get that. It’s not a big deal. We’re engaged, and we’ll get married soon enough. All this other crap doesn’t bother me.”
“That’s because you’re beautiful and smart and he’s lucky to have you in his life.”
A grin crossed her lips. She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “This is why I love you, man.”
“Get a move on the
n, and change. I want to finish before six.”
She groaned and pushed aside her bowl that was still half full. She stood. “As if that’s ever going to happen. We’re going to be here until at least seven, but I’ll go change.” She sauntered towards the changing room. When she entered the area, her gaze was drawn to the tall, stocky man who was holding a cup of cappuccino and sitting on the couch that lined against the wall. It was Bryan, her manager. “What are you doing here? I thought you left already.”
Although, he wasn’t required to come to the set when she was shooting, a lot of times he turned up. Bryan made her nervous. Layla was thinking about shifting to another manager, but he’d been with her for the past three years, knew the system well, and was well-acquainted with a lot of fashion designers. If she had to work without him, her life would become even tougher.
Without invitation, he ambled behind her into the changing room. “I just wanted to stick around to see if you needed me.”
Layla turned to face him. “Everything is under control here. You can leave now.”
Walking forward, he clasped her hand. “You’re working too hard, Layla. Slow down a bit. How about I cancel your schedule for tomorrow? You can rest all day and we can go out for dinner.”
Ever since she announced her engagement with Gage, Bryan’s attitude underwent a significant change. He’d become clingier and even a tad bit lecherous. “Don’t be silly, Bryan. I can’t afford to cancel my work at a day’s notice. This is a cutthroat industry. I’d be laughed out of work in no time.” She tugged her hand free. “And as a matter of fact, you know quite well that I’m engaged. How can I go out with you for dinner?”
He smiled, but to Layla it seemed somewhat forced. “Gage doesn’t pamper you enough. A woman like you needs more attention.”
“He gives me enough time.” She hated discussing this with him. “And in any case, my personal life is none of your business.”
Much to her astonishment, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “We’re friends, aren’t we? It’s not just a professional relationship. I care for you, Layla.”
She opened her mouth to speak.
Asher barged in. “Hey, man. Go back to your cappuccino already. Layla has work to do.”
Bryan snarled, but removed his hand. After throwing a fulminating glare towards Asher, he marched out of the room.
Unperturbed, Asher closed the door behind him. Walking over to the rack that contained all the costumes, he pulled out one. “Wear this, baby girl. You’ll look great in it.”
Even though she was still disturbed by Bryan’s attitude, Layla took the full-length, boysenberry-colored gown from Asher’s hand. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He understood that she tacitly referred to his intervention with Bryan. “You know sooner or later, you will have to get rid of that guy.” Asher crossed his arms, even as he narrowed his eyes. “He’s got his eyes on you, and not in a good way. You’ve got to break ties before he crosses the line.”
She winced. Layla hated confrontations. It was one of her biggest nightmares. “I don’t know how I can do that. Perhaps he’s just being—?”
“Obnoxious? Creepy? I think those are the words that you’re looking for.”
He was right, of course. She couldn’t tolerate this kind of behavior anymore. It was time to put her foot down and get rid of this man who made her nervous. She was actually scared to be alone with Bryan now, and in a professional relationship, she couldn’t afford to be like that.
Absentmindedly, she picked up the hairbrush that lay on the counter and ran it through her hair as she contemplated Asher’s words. “I’ll do it.” A thin strip of hair fell on the floor at her feet. Layla stared at it without understanding the significance of such an event.
Asher spared a glance for the coil of hair and then waved his hand. “Do it soon, baby girl, or it’s only going to get worse,” he emphasized as he opened the door and stepped out. “I’m waiting.” He glanced pointedly at his watch. “Tick tock.”
Layla sighed. She strolled over to the door and locked it before anyone else could come in. It was important to take a few minutes to be alone once in a while. She quickly changed and then checked her makeup in the mirror. Her hair, a blend of light brown and light orange, hung down her back, her dark-mahogany skin glowed. Her deep, dark eyes that stared back at her were bright and alert despite the fatigue that’d set in. She knew she was beautiful…indeed, she’d heard it often enough. The product of mixed genes, her features were strangely attractive and her figure was hourglass. She felt lucky to have found a job in the modeling industry which gave few chances. Even though Layla enjoyed her work, lately she had been feeling a bit tired of the same humdrum routine.
Maybe it’s time to switch gears and do something else, but she didn’t have the courage to take the plunge. If she left this industry for as much as a week, someone else would take her place. Layla was on her way to making a good name for herself. Already well-known in her neck of the woods, but she was aiming to become a supermodel in her own right. Or, she should say that’s what her mom wanted her to aim for. If she told the truth, Layla didn’t harbor that same desire.
Perhaps once she proved herself, she would be able to sit back on her laurels and enjoy her life a bit. Right now, it was all about work, but maybe she would be able to relax a little when she made it to the top. A pipe dream of course. The busier and more productive her life became, the more she felt as if she rode a merry-go-round from which she couldn’t get off. She kept doing the same things over and over again, with no chance for escape. “No point complaining, girl. This is what you do, and you’re damn good at it,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “Let’s go out and finish this job.”
Once she strode out, Layla felt relieved to see that Bryan wasn’t outside anymore. Perhaps he felt embarrassed by Asher’s attitude and left. Good! She couldn’t bear to deal with him right now. She strolled back into the room where the shoot was going on.
When she stepped on the rug once more, Asher smiled. “Looking good, baby girl. Now, I want you to look a little pensive. Give me your sad face.”
Without much effort, she arranged her expression so that it suited his instructions. It wasn’t too difficult for her to shift from pose to pose. Layla was good at her work, and she had to admit, there were times when she still enjoyed aspects of it.
After 2 more changes of costumes and four hours of hard work, she rushed out of the studio. She practically jogged over to the nearest subway station.
As much as she was able to, Layla preferred to live a normal life. Once she reached home, she took a hot shower. Her body felt so tired, but her mind was still active. As she reached forward to take the bar of soap that was created in the shape of a teddy bear, a smile broke over her face. In her free time, she liked to create different types of soap. Her dream was to start her own brand of soap and market it on a national level. Of course, this was a distant goal. She wouldn’t be able to dump her work and do whatever the hell suited her. First, she would have to set aside enough savings—oh well, she probably had enough of that. Second step was to reduce her assignments, but that would probably kill her career. She wasn’t quite ready to do that.
Maybe, someday, she would do the thing that her heart really wanted.
On impulse, she decided to give her hair a brisk shampoo. Being a woman of color, it wasn’t practical to wash her hair every day, but tonight was an exception. She squeezed a dollop of shampoo on her palm, rubbed it in with both hands, and massaged it onto her scalp.
Oooh, it felt good! The scent was great too. It made her feel as if all the stress and tension of the day were dissipating. When she’d rubbed the shampoo onto her hair completely, she stood beneath the water, mindful to keep her eyes closed. She then finished rinsing her hair.
Blindly, she reached for the soap and lathered her skin, once again. Gingerly, she opened her eyes, wincing a bit as she felt the slight burn. Damn it, she always managed to get a bit o
f it in her eyes anyway. When she rubbed the soap over her body, her gaze was drawn to the clumps of hair, as thick as her thumb, pooling at her feet and moving towards the shower drain. The horrified gasp that escaped her lips was nothing in comparison to the fear that coursed through her veins.
What was going on?
Why did so much of her hair come off?
It wasn’t the first time she’d used that brand of shampoo. And besides, it always left her hair looking beautiful. She reached out and grabbed her towel, wrapped it around her body, stepped out of the shower and rushed in front of the mirror, her heart beating rapidly. She raked her fingers through her hair
A wave of nausea overcame her. Wet strands of her hair were stuck to her fingers. More fell into the sink.
Did she have some terrible disease?
Cancer?
Lupus?
Was she going to die?
The faces of some of her family members rushed through her mind. Her maternal grandfather was bald, and even some of her uncles were balding, as well. But what about the female members of her family? As far as she could tell, none of them were losing hair, except for an aunt who’d fought breast cancer with the resultant radiotherapy and chemotherapy for a number of years until she lost the battle a year ago.
Layla couldn’t afford to lose her hair. It was her crowning glory.
She shook her head. She refused to believe she was terminally ill.
Is it stress?
The situation with Bryan was really stressing her out, and her career was very demanding. Yes, yes, yes. Some people reacted differently to acute stress. Some lose weight. Others gained weight. She even remembered one of her model friends developing bad acne because of stress. Maybe, she needed to pick up yoga as a stress-relieving activity. Maybe it was because of her diet. She could be allergic to something she’d been eating and didn’t even realize it.
