Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
“But we’re family,” the older man replied in a confused tone. “No one could seriously think that I’m taking advantage of my own daughters?”
I shook my head, almost insensate with rage.
“People talk!” I screamed in the small bedroom. “You can’t keep doing this! I’ve told you before, and you just won’t stop! Now, look what’s happened!”
Steve held his massive palms up, as upset as I was.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” he rasped. “I was just kissing my little girl good morning. On the cheek,” he emphasized. “I had nothing to do with your robe falling open, or what anyone else says for that matter. Fucking gossips! Stay the fuck out of my business!”
Then, the older man stomped out of my bedroom, his huge chest heaving with rage. Meanwhile, I stood stock still, the fabric of my silky robe clutched tight around my still-damp curves. What just happened? Did Nick really believe that I hooked up with his dad, not twenty-four hours after he left? Does he truly think that I’m a woman who would sleep with two men within such a short time span? Who are father and son, no less?
I immediately reached for my phone, my fingers tapping furiously as I texted a message.
Nick, it’s not what you think. Please call.
No reply. Then a few hours later.
Please call me, Nick. I love you. Don’t give up on us. We deserve another chance.
Still, no reply, even though my cell indicated “read.” My heart curdled as I texted him again and again. I called too, but my calls were directed straight to voicemail, and my cell remained hauntingly silent. I cried that night, as well as the night after that, and for an entire week. I shed so many tears that my eyes felt hot and dry, and my chest hurt from the violent sobs.
But my phone never rang, and Nick never came home. I didn’t know where he lived in the city either, and was too humiliated to beg for the information from Milly, Steve, or one of my stepbrother’s friends. Obviously, catching us en flagrante had driven Nick away, and that combined with the mindless gossip of the Austin crowd, cemented his decision. My stepbrother and I were over before we really ever began.
With pain wrenching through my chest, I made a new decision. I called Busby Modeling Agency, my fingers trembling and my voice hesitant. But my agent was only too happy to hear the news.
“So you’ve decided to sign!” Cameron crowed with joy. “That’s wonderful, Kristie! When can we expect you in Vegas?”
“In the next week,” I said in low voice. “I’ll be moving asap.”
“Perfect!” he crowed again, almost mindless with glee. “Don’t worry about a thing! We’ll set you up with a model apartment, and front you some cash for the first few months. It’s standard procedure in our industry. New models always have a “start-up phase,” so to say, where the agency advances funds as you attend your first castings. But your look is exactly what everyone wants. You’ll be making money hand over fist in no time!”
Cameron’s predictions came true, for the most part. I moved to Vegas, and despite my listless and moody behavior, casting directors loved it. I was booked for a couple catalogs almost immediately, and we began to shoot. It was fine, I suppose. I was detached and quiet, but models don’t need to provide verbal input. I smiled when they said smile, I posed when they directed me to pose, and I acted happy if that’s what the brand wanted. In short, I was the perfect mannequin. I’m a walking, talking coat-hanger, modeling outfits according to the style and preferences of the brand. I deliver what clients are looking for, and my bank account began to fill as a result.
The experience been okay, I suppose. My first year in Vegas was horrific mentally, even if professionally, I was labeled a success at every level. As my face was featured in commercials and magazines, my mind was twisted and despairing. I saw Nick everywhere. When I closed my eyes at night, the last thing I saw were images of his handsome visage, as well as that mighty male physique. I’d dream of his relentless lovemaking, coupled with the gentleness of his touch. When I woke, I could almost pretend that Nick was beside me in bed – only to be fully roused by the coolness of my sheets, and the dampness of tears on the pillowcase.
Fortunately, my second year in Vegas was better. I’d made a few friends by then, male and female, and their energy and chatter lifted me from my stupor. Yet I refused to go home, even when Milly begged me to visit for a day or two during Christmas. Steve got on the phone too, entreating me, but I made my excuses, claiming that I’d booked jobs over the holidays that were too lucrative to miss.