Rock Star Billionaire

"Thanks, but I don't think so," I giggled under his praise.

He pulled me into his arms and kissed my lips tenderly. "Sure you could. You don't believe me? I'll prove it to you. I got you modeling gig down in L.A."

"As in Los Angeles, California? Yeah, right." I didn't believe him. Mick was always teasing me with wild stories that weren't true.

"No, I'm serious. A buddy of mine is starting a new business selling some shit, and he needs help with the distribution and marketing. He wanted a really hot, blonde girl to pose for the packaging, and I told him I knew a great model who would work for cheap: you."

"Me? I've never modeled."

"I know, it's perfect. You can launch your modeling career without even trying, my buddy can start his business, and I get a piece of the action on both ends. This will give us the money we need to start our life together. You want to get married, right?"

"Of course, I want to get married."

"You still love me, right?" Mick was kissing me now and stroking my face in the way he knew I liked.

"Of course, I still love you."

"Let's do this then. Let's go to L.A. tonight, right now." Mick stopped kissing me and jumped off the hood of the car. He was suddenly really amped up. He opened the car door for me, hurrying me into the vehicle, and then started the engine before I even knew what was happening.

"Wait. We can't go to L.A. right now."

"Why not?"

"What about high school? I graduate in just one month. We can go then."

"It might be too late by then. This job can't wait. I don't want him to give it to someone else and see you lose your big break. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for you, and I'm not going to be the one to get in your way and see you lose it.

“High school is just for losers who need some kind of degree for their miserable jobs that they work forty hours a week. You don't need that. Models make their own schedules. Models travel the world, working when they want, and doing whatever they want. That's going to be you, baby, and I'm not letting you throw away this chance.

“As your manager, I'm taking you to L.A. tonight. If we drive all night, we can be there in no time, and before you know it, you'll be a star and I'll be able to tell everybody 'See that supermodel? That’s my wife'. Let's do this. Are you with me?"

"I don't know," I hesitated. This was a big step, but he was so excited and so sure. His mania was contagious and my fears were already being drowned out by his enthusiasm. "Do you really think we can do this?"

"Of course, we can. We can do anything we want. We're a team, you and me. You'll be a famous model, and I'll be an entrepreneur and your manager. This opportunity will give us the money we need to build a life together. I can't wait to marry you, baby. You still love me like I love you, right?"

"I do." We both recognized that was the exact phrase two people uttered when reciting their wedding vows, and it made us both smile. Gazing into each other's eyes, we kissed one last time, and then Mick put the car into gear and we sped off onto the highway and into our future.

Of course, things didn't work out quite like Mick had planned. His friend's modeling job turned out to be asking me to pose in my underwear for "massage oils" he had invented and was trying to market to L.A. sex shops. I was mortified and refused the job. Mick insisted that I do it, and since it was the difference between staying in a ratty motel or sleeping in the Camaro again, I went ahead and did it, but I never put the job on my résumé.

Now, three years later, I was twenty-one and still struggling to make it as a model. I'd gotten a job on a flyer and done some work at a seedy convention, but that was basically it. So far, my big break hadn't come, and after all this time, I wasn't sure it ever would.

"So, what happened at the audition today, baby? Tell me everything." Mick had his arm around my shoulder and was giving me his full attention, stroking my hair and gazing into my eyes. It was impossible not to open up to him when he was like this; this was the Mick I had fallen in love with five years ago.

"There's nothing to tell, really. I have the look they want; naturally blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a friendly smile. I just don't have the experience, and all the other girls looked so much more professional than I did."

"Forget classes. That bullshit is for suckers. Why do we want to pay our hard-earned money for some asshole to tell you how to look pretty and smile?”

"There's a lot more to modeling than that. There are certain ways to enhance your figure while showing off the product that photograph better than others. I didn't even know how to pose on the bike properly. It was really embarrassing. Besides, it's my hard-earned money. You haven't had a job in months."

"I work damn hard as your manager." He was angry now, and I knew I'd crossed a line as he pulled his arm away and started shouting. "You think it's easy finding these auditions for you and getting the appointments? You'd be nothing without me. Who the hell was it that got you that catalog spread? Me. And, which one of us turned it down and lost a perfectly good thousand bucks for us?"

"I'm sorry. I know you work hard, but that photographer wanted me to do a lot more than just pose for him in a bathing suit, and I just couldn't do that."

"Well, maybe you should. Has it ever occurred to you that I'm not the one holding you back on your modeli

ng career, that maybe it's your over-the-top moral standards? You think none of these other models are willing to take off their clothes for a photographer or give a director a little blow job on the side? Fuck, Kayla, you're such a damn prude. No wonder you can't get any jobs."

"I'm not a prude. I've been sleeping with you since I was seventeen, and we're still not married yet. It broke my parents’ hearts when I ran away with you to L.A. to be a model, and now I wonder if it was even worth it. Nothing's ever come of it. It's been three years I still haven't gotten my break."