“Bull.”
“Is there anything wrong with wanting to give you a good time?” he asked.
“No, but—”
“You’re not going to complain when you’re in that chair.” He hung up.
I raged and nearly threw my phone out the window. Instead, I called Candy back. She answered.
“Do I have to go to the spa, Candy?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t you? Dori sent me down there a couple weeks ago, and it was heaven.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“Let him pamper you,” she said. “Besides, they need to get your makeup ready, and Dori is starting to throw out the dress, so it won’t be long before she calls you in for a remake.”
“Make sure she knows how grateful I am,” I said before I got off.
The spa was beautiful and relaxing, with low lighting and a facial massage that left my skin tingling. I didn’t want to dive into this. I wanted to hate Jake and run away as far as I could. Instead, he was doing everything he could to make me happy.
It felt good, but that’s what bothered me so much about it. I wanted more, but he was so closed off. He’d never let me in, not the way I wanted. Instead, I was an unwilling spectator at my own slaughter, watching him peel apart my heart piece by piece.
The excitement bothered me the most. It wasn’t so much excitement as it was a deep desire, a need to see him, and the anticipation that went with it. It was unhealthy. I was a prostitute, not his girlfriend. I was never going to be his girlfriend, and I had to remember that. But it was difficult when he gave me things most girls could barely dream about.
I felt relaxed until I left the spa and realized I was going to spend all night with Jake. He’d see me dressed like a runway model. He’d peel my clothes off with his eyes, then his hands, and he’d spend the rest of the evening trying to make me scream. When I got in the car, I rested my head back and closed my eyes.
Breathe, I told myself. I couldn’t let this continue. I had to leave him behind and find some other way to help my parents. This wasn’t worth destroying myself over, but I knew that if I tried to run, I’d just end up running back to him or losing him altogether. I was getting used to our arrangement. I enjoyed every second of it. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop, and neither could he.
I drove to get myself something to eat and found myself facing a sudden torrent of texts and phone calls. Dori wanted to know what I thought about sequins, then ruffles. Then it was time for me to come in. When Candy called, I could hear her asking how far away I was in the background. By that time, I was already rounding the corner, so I just hung up and walked in.
Dori hit me with a flurry of compliments and another offer for a modeling gig. Then I stood on a raised platform while Dori painted me like the clean canvas she said I was. I stood in front of the wall mirror in the office before I left.
I was a ratty, skinny blonde girl with tits too big for her body and wide hips. I couldn’t believe what Dori had done to me. The dress was a mosaic of tiny red roses with white stems, falling down my plunging neckline with a shimmering fabric that glistened in the light.
The skirt was perfect in its simplicity, flowing ruffles like red waves that trailed behind me. I wasn’t this woman. I was a whore in a costume, and I was going to get my heart broken if I didn’t remember that. Still, I couldn’t stop my stomach from jumping up and down in time with my steps when I walked out of the office.
Jake waited for me outside, holding a red rose. I wanted to grab it and throw it to the ground. I couldn’t be feeling this. He wasn’t allowed to do this to me, but he was. He walked around the desk, took me by the hand, and said, “You are a supermodel, and don’t you forget it.”
I tried not to blush, but the blood rushed straight to my face. I knew he could see it. Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know what would happen when this was all over? He must. So why was he doing it? Was he just as out of control as I was?
There was a pause, a moment of certainty when I realized that we were both fighting this as hard as we could. Dori sniffed behind me, and I turned around. She was tearing up. “You both look so cute together.”
“Thank you,” Jake said graciously and took my hand to lead me out into the limo. “I hope you don’t mind I told her we are together.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.” I did. I minded more than I could possibly express. This was a sick charade, but we were both trapped in it. Neither of us could stop if we wanted to, but that didn’t make it any more real. He had his boundaries. I was his whore, not his girlfriend. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
I could see the spotlights when we pulled off the freeway. “Is this red carpet?”
“Not for us,” he said. “You will not catch me on one of those death traps.”
“But there is a red carpet, isn’t there?” I asked.
“Do you want your picture taken?”
“Don’t threaten me. I know where you sleep.”
“Just don’t get mad when I tear that thing off you,” he said.