Undressed To The Nines: A Thriller Novel (Drew Stirling Book 1)

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Undressed To The Nines: A Thriller Novel (Drew Stirling Book 1) Page 6

by Jayden Hunter


  The models, including Drew, had all agreed to work for a low day rate because the work they were doing today was for one of Marc’s friends. He was building a new website featuring cyberpunk photography. They wanted the old building for the contrast. Once the photos were Photoshopped, the building would look old and abandoned. The theme would be a classic look like a Hudson River School painting, the kind that had dystopian futuristic settings. The difference would be the sexy models in the shots. Futuristic weapons and survival gear. Some nude, some semi-nude. Some wearing so much gear that the only reason a model was needed was for the realistic cleavage.

  The models had costumes that met the bare minimum standards because they didn’t want to risk breaking any decency laws. They used flesh-colored pasties and g-strings in some of the shots, so of course they drew a large crowd. The women looked completely nude from a distance.

  “Wow,” Drew said to Marc when one of the models, a tall redhead with very long legs posed under one of the archways wearing nothing but an ounce of swiss coffee-colored see-through panties and a round Band-Aid over each nipple. “She’s on the verge of getting arrested. Or causing a car crash.”

  It was one of the facts of life that no matter how beautiful, how pretty, or how talented you were, there was always someone prettier, more talented, more gifted. The trick was to not allow your jealousy to become apparent to those who looked at you with their own covetousness.

  Marc continued to shoot. He asked Drew to grab a mock rifle and a length of PVC pipe out of his collection of props.

  “I want you to give me a few poses with the rifle and then a few with the pipe.”

  “I feel stupid with this.” She held up the pipe. “What are we doing, a lawn maintenance commercial?”

  “Funny. No, wait until you see what my guys can do with that. They’ll Photoshop in a light saber or futuristic sword. The pipe just ensures you’ll hold a realistic pose. Trust me.”

  “What about clothes?”

  “What you have on is fine. I’ll have them Photoshop you into body armor, and probably, hmmmmm…”

  “Hmmmmm, what?” she asked him.

  “Well, let’s do a few at the end, if you’re comfortable,” he said, “with more cleavage. It’s easier to build up the costume when they don’t have to completely Photoshop your breasts.”

  “Hey, what’s wrong with my boobs?”

  “Nothing, nothing. I meant it’s easier when they have as much real skin to work with as possible.”

  “Okay, fine, but I’m not wearing Band-Aid pasties.”

  Marc smiled, and she went to work.

  She had the most experience out of the models there. Marc thought how odd it was that being over twenty-one was over the hill in this industry. Unless a person carried fame from previous major covers, television, and movies, or was a famous musician, it was extremely hard to get any major work. It was almost impossible to land on a major cover if the model wasn’t in their teens anymore. Sex sold and men liked women young and flawless. It was just biology, eggs, and sperm. DNA. Evolution.

  Because of Drew’s name recognition, it really was a huge favor for her to work on this project for cheap. Marc knew that. As he changed equipment and the other girls took a smoke break, he thought about when, and if, he was going to ask Drew out again.

  They worked for another hour before Marc called for a lunch break.

  “You’ve all been great today. I hope to get a change in lighting in a couple hours. Why don’t we meet back here, say in an hour and a half? Thank you everyone. This is going better than I’d imagined. I really appreciate all the effort.”

  The younger girls gathered in the designated smoking area, and all lit up cigarettes.

  “I take it you never smoked?” Marc asked Drew.

  “No, never. It’s pretty gross.”

  “Yeah, I understand it, but still… Join me for lunch?”

  “Sure. Let me lock up my stuff and we’ll walk down to the corner?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Crap,” Drew said.

  “What’s wrong?” Marc asked her. She was looking through her purse.

  “I misplaced my phone.”

  “In your car?”

  “Maybe.” Drew went to look.

  “I hate it when that happens.”

  “Must have left it at home. Shit.”

  “You can borrow mine if you need to make a call or anything. I have my computer too, if you need to check email.”

  “I must have been distracted this morning. It’s not a big deal. It’s Sunday. No business calls, and it’s not like anyone is going to call me about a national emergency.”

  They laughed and joked with each other as they walked to a downtown restaurant. They teased each other like they were both still in junior high.

  They ordered salads and sat outside. They both found it ironic when Marc pointed out they were talking about the weather as if they were avoiding talking about something serious. He started to work up the courage to ask her on a real date, a dinner date, when a server brought out their food. He decided to wait, and they ate in silence. If he could be with someone and be comfortable in silence, that was a good sign. He thought he’d read that somewhere. He hoped she was comfortable. She seemed to be.

  As they finished their lunch, Drew said she wanted to show him something on Instagram. She reached into her purse to get her phone.

  “Shit, I forgot,” she said. “I don’t have my phone.” Drew pulled out a thumb drive and told him she had found it last night. She wasn’t sure what it was. She wasn’t even positive it was hers.

  “I’ve been so scatterbrained lately.” She explained that it might have been dropped by a friend. It was so nondescript. It could have fallen out of her purse from a previous photo shoot or something else work-related, and she’d just forgotten about it. “It might be mine after all. It’s not like I don’t have dozens of these laying around with all kinds of work-related files on them.”

  “Do you mind?” she asked him as she handed over the thumb drive. She asked Marc to take a quick look to see if there was anything on it. “It might be empty for all I know.”

  “Sure, no problem. It’ll just take a second. Hold on.” He put the thumb drive in his computer and opened up the first folder and the first document file.

  “Hold on. It looks like a news story.” Marc started reading. It looked like a scandal he told her. Something about an illegally-funded research company. He continued reading. “I hadn’t heard about this story.”

  “Me neither. Maybe my friend just dropped some research. It’s probably nothing important.”

  “Well, it’s politics. It’s always something important at least to someone. It’s about our conservative representative, that guy, Boyd. Lance Boyd, the Republican. It says something about he might be responsible for funneling money to an illegal research company, something about weaponized biological stuff. Shit, you’d think we’d have heard about this story.”

  “I hate the news. Here, I’ll put it back in my purse and find out if my friend is the one that lost it. Thanks for checking.”

  Marc hesitated for just a second. He knew it was stupid to be so curious, but information was always better than no information. He copied the folders from the thumb drive onto his computer. While the files were transferring, he decided to broach the subject of going on a date, an excuse not to pull the thumb drive out that instant.

  “Drew, I’d like to take you out, you know, like to dinner, a date,” he said with courage he didn’t know he had. He might as well go for broke. “I really enjoy spending time with you.” He looked at her face, and she returned his gaze.

  “Okay,” she said.

  Marc’s face was beaming. He could feel his smile starting to hurt his mouth. He looked down and saw the files finished transferring. Marc handed back the thumb drive and closed his computer.

  “Is your Wednesday night free?”

 
“Yes, I think so,” she said. “But since I don’t have my phone to check my calendar, let’s say tentatively. I’ll check my calendar when I get home to be sure.”

  “I’d like to take you to Rosalyn’s. Have you been?”

  They returned to the library building after discussing the menu at Rosalyn’s. She told him that, yes, she’d been there, and she was a fan of the rib eye steak. He argued that they were famous for their seafood. They both admitted that the real reason they loved the place was the dessert menu.

  The rest of the session went smoothly. Again, they gathered a crowd. It was hard for people to walk past a group of beautiful women posing in barely any clothes without stopping to stare.

  Marc finished up and everyone helped load up equipment. Goodbyes were said. Marc told his assistant, Kim, he’d be back at the studio later because his car was parked at Drew’s place.

  When they arrived at Drew’s, she parked her car and looked at him. “Would you like to come in, get something to drink?”

  Of fucking course.

  “Yeah, I can chat for awhile.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Accept your past without regrets. Handle your present with confidence. Face your future without fear.

  ~ Chinese Fortune Cookie

  Do you know what a Black Swan event is? It's the thing you don't know about, couldn't know about, and didn't find out about until it destroyed you.

  ~ Congressman Lance Boyd

  Drew Stirling led Marc up to her place in silence. Her cheeks hurt, so she tried to relax her grin. She skipped closer to Marc and took his hand.

  She checked to see if Julie was around. She wasn’t. She asked Marc if he wanted something to drink and told him to make himself at home. She needed to find her phone.

  Drew left him sitting on the couch and went to her bedroom. She hunted in all the places she’d left it before — under her pillows, the night stand, her dresser — but couldn’t find it. She then went to check in the bathroom. No phone. She checked the cushions on the couch and got in the way of Marc who was checking email on his computer.

  “The reporter, the one who wrote that article, the one from the drive, I Googled him. He’s missing.”

  “What do you mean missing?”

  “I mean missing missing. As in he’s been gone from work and home for nearly two weeks. His family doesn’t know where he is, and they suspect some kind of foul play.”

  “Shit.”

  “And I went back and looked at that report, the story you had on that drive, it never made the news.”

  “What do you mean it never made the news?”

  “I fucking mean that article isn’t in the news. The story you have on that drive is not public, and the reporter is missing.”

  Drew thought about this for a minute.

  “Okay,” Drew said. “Explain this again. The story that is on that drive is about a scandal that’s not in the news at all, and the guy who wrote the story is missing?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s about it. I hate to pry, but when was the last time you went out with Brad Novak?”

  “Brad Novak? Who the hell is Brad Novak?”

  “He’s the reporter. You must have accidentally picked up his thumb drive. That’s where it came from, right?”

  “No.”

  Drew got silent, and Marc looked at her. “Okay,” Drew said. “Don’t judge me.”

  “Why would I judge you?”

  Because I was fucking a married guy, a Congressman, and we were drunk and he must have dropped that and I didn’t even think about it when I asked you to see what was on the drive and I never should have even looked at what was on there and I never should have asked you to look and now that I am starting to like a decent guy I have to explain to him that I have stumbled upon some fucking scandal because I was in a hotel last night drunk fucking a congressman. That’s why.

  Drew sighed. “I need a beer. You?”

  “Sure. Let me get it for you. Just point the way.” Marc got up and said, “You’ve turned white like a ghost. What’s wrong?” He walked into the kitchen as Drew was telling him to grab a couple of Coors off the top shelf.

  “I’m going to tell you the truth,” she said, “and I’m sorry in advance. If you want to cancel our date or anything, I understand. It’s not like me normally, but…”

  “Just tell me,” he said. “I’m not judgmental. You’re an adult. I understand. I won’t judge.”

  “My dad and I have a long history of this issue of me modeling and not going to college. He always expected so much more from me than I wanted to give. That I was willing to give. I was so mad at him that night. After we had words, the Congressman came over to me and said he was interested in talking to me about a project. I knew it was bullshit, but I didn’t really mind. He’s a handsome guy, and after fighting with my dad, I guess I thought, fuck him. You know?”

  “Yes, I understand that.”

  “So, anyway, it’s kind of embarrassing to say out loud. But I met him. You know? Lance Boyd. Family man. Congressman and family man. And you know what? I lost myself because I liked him and the sex was really good. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Drew. Really. I didn’t think you were a virgin.”

  “Well, yeah. But, anyway… Okay, so the sex was good, and I felt kind of like, hey, it’s YOLO, and everything. And it was just that, a one night stand. But then, last night, you asked if I was busy, and I kind of panicked. I think I felt slutty and sort of guilty, and you’re a really nice guy. I wanted to say sure let’s go out, but I doubted myself and decided I might fuck up a good friendship and everything. It’s complicated.

  “After I turned you down for going out, I was just going to stay home, you know, read a novel, binge on Netflix, something casual. I wasn’t in the mood really. But Lance, the Congressman, he sends me a text message. He wants me to meet him. I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to go, but I did. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn’t want to go. Well, I went. Sorry, again. I feel shitty.”

  “Quit apologizing,” Marc said to her. “If it makes you feel better, I had an affair once with a model that was newly married and was afraid to admit to her husband that she thought she’d made a mistake. She didn’t want kids and was all about this crisis. She was only twenty-two. So, I know about getting caught up in the sexual thrill. It’s okay. Really, I’m not judging you.”

  “So, we went up to his room last night, already a bit drunk, and then he poured a couple shots. Maybe three. I don’t even remember. I was really drunk. Clothes went flying. That is when he must have lost the thumb drive.”

  “Holy fuck. Drew, this is bad.”

  “Now you look like the ghost.” She stood. “I need a Xanax. And I still need to find my phone.”

  Drew went to her room. She came back out, took the Xanax with a sip of water, and then poured herself a glass of wine. She sat next to Marc.

  “If I wasn’t so anxious, you’d totally be getting laid. Xanax, wine, empty stomach.”

  “And the beer.”

  She laughed, “That wasn’t a beer, it was a Coors Light.”

  He suggested they order takeout.

  “Wong’s. I have a menu on the fridge.”

  By the time the Chinese food showed up, they’d gone back through the report and Googled the story again. There were some articles online and three blogs that mentioned there had been rumors of questionable research, but no names.

  Certainly nothing linked the Congressman and nothing filed by the reporter Brad Novak. It turns out that Novak was a reporter for the Washington Post, so they tried calling an editor, but ended up leaving a voicemail. It was late on Sunday. They’d be able to talk to someone tomorrow.

  They emailed Novak’s editor and said they had something important to share. They realized that there could be other tips coming into the paper, and they didn’t have anything concrete. For all they knew, the story wasn’t even real. Maybe someone was bribing the Congressman o
r trying to scare him.

  “I should try calling Lance,” Drew said, “once I find my stupid phone.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should talk to an editor at the paper first, someone neutral. Who knows what kind of story Boyd could give you? It’s not like you can trust him.”

  “I guess not.”

  As they sat in silence, Drew tried to figure out what she should do. The front door opened, and Julie walked in.

  “Hi, guys,” she said. “What’s going on? That smells good. Any left?”

  “Sure,” Drew said. “There’s a ton of leftovers.”

  “Thanks.” Julie started filling a plate.

  “Have you seen my phone?” Drew asked.

  “OH! Sorry, yeah. You must have dropped it under the table this morning. After I got back from work, I fell asleep reading on the couch. Someone was blowing up your phone. It rang like ten times. I finally silenced it. Sorry, I must have set it down in my room.” She went into her room and returned. “I didn’t mean to set it down in there. Sorry, airhead moment. I was running late to get some errands done and wasn’t thinking. Here.” She handed the phone to Drew.

  There were six missed calls — two from her father’s cell number and four from the Congressman’s cell. There was only one voicemail, but two text messages, both from Boyd.

  Incoming text message: I had a great time last night, we should do it again, hey, I think I lost a thumb drive, nothing too important, but did you see it?

  An hour later, another text.

  Incoming text message: It’s vitally important that you call or text me asap

 

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