Aberration (10 page)

"Now the question is, who should be my victims for my trial round?"

"Someone who you would least expect to be able to dominate a guy," says Andrea.

I frown. "Shouldn't we be taking baby steps here?"

"Nah," she says, pulling a diet soda from the fridge. "This should be an exercise for you as much as them. You should be letting go and learning to trust them."

I purse my lips before saying. "Alright, but if this goes awry, I'm blaming you. Chloe!" I yell, my voice echoing through the empty house. "Somebody get Chloe and Miguel into hair and makeup!"

Not knowing if anyone heard me, I make my way through the house to try and figure out the situation. Dallas and Evan took over the room we shot in last night, and Delilah and Adam are sharing a room too. Their on-again-off-again relationship is exhausting, to say the least. They're probably using this set-up to screw each other relentlessly without feeling guilty about it.

Chloe is sharing a room with Ella, which leaves Jaime with Miguel. The models have converted the largest bathroom into a dressing room. This is the first time I've ever done a full blown, multi-day shoot without an entire crew. Normally, the thought of shooting without a crew or makeup team would make me nervous, but I think the fact that it didn't even cross my mind until now says something about my team. I've been working with most of my all-stars for over a year now. I'm beginning to trust them.

This is good business.

When Chloe and Miguel are through with hair and makeup and water-proofed, they follow me down to the gorgeous infinity pool overlooking the ocean. Chloe looks nervous until I tell her to take a swim. Already bikini-clad, she dives in the water and pushes her wet bob back.

Chloe was the token adorable-little-thing I hired last year before the Boston shoot. She's probably my most insecure model, but uses her innocent demeanor to her advantage. At her audition shoot, Adam
posed with her, drawing inspiration from an animal-and-his-prey theme. Chloe really hasn't shown me another character other than prey for the male gaze.

Andrea directs. She orders Miguel to sit on the side of the pool with his feet in the water. Chloe pulls herself from the pool, dripping wet, and Andrea has her kneel behind Miguel.

"Kiss his neck," Andrea orders. "But do so in a way that you are demanding him to pay attention to you. Be sly. Be confident."

Chloe takes a deep breath, and then says, "I don't know how to be those things."

I drop my camera. "You're thinking too much. Don't think. Don't worry about taking a bad picture. Pretend I'm not here."

Chloe thinks for a moment. She bites her bottom lip, and then reaches around Miguel, dragging her nails down his chest, decorating him with trails of water that are catching in the sunlight, making for an interesting photograph.

One of the highlights of my job is watching a model battle with enjoying themselves and doing their job. That's exactly what's happening with Miguel right now. He's enjoying Chloe learning how to access a new side of herself, learning that she is allowed to relentlessly tease. He's fighting for control over how turned on he is. I can see his erection straining against his board shorts, making note of it. It's part of my job.

Andrea makes a note of it too. She has Miguel lie back. Chloe takes off her top and kneels between his legs, sliding his board shorts off. I position Chloe so the shot stays classy, having her straddle him. But then she freezes up again, used to the man initiating the foreplay.

"How will you encourage him to taste you?" Andrea asks, allowing Chloe to make the decision for herself
.

Chloe leans forward and Miguel's tongue darts out, gliding over her nipple.

I realize that, other than Andrea's instructions, the pool has been silent. I turn to look behind me, and all of the models are watching intently from the patio furniture.

When I turn back, Miguel's hand are on Chloe's ass, and she says all too adorably, "This is the best job ever."

Everyone behind me erupts in giggles… even the boys.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to look. Text from Cam.

Dad wants you to join us for lunch at the country club.

I let my camera fall and mutter, "Balls."

///

The country club is one of those establishments that I cannot for the life of me understand. It rakes up so much money off rich people being douchey. And I hate going there. I hate the way that Dad's peers and colleagues look at me, like they expect me to perform a trick or something, just like their children would. And I hate that Dad kind of expects the same from me, which is why he even wants me to come into the country club in the first place. Not like I have any tricks to perform. Cam at least has the fact that he works for Dad. I graduated with my bachelor's from a state school, and according to most, I am jobless.

I don't even have the gorgeous or thin thing going for me.

Today, the country club sucks even worse, because Micah is here
.
He's at the bar drinking a Bloody Mary, and when he sees me, he smiles big, swoops up his drink, and waltzes toward me. I see Cam, Dad, and Jaime out of the corner of my eye. Micah acknowledges them, and I suddenly realize what's about to happen.

Micah wants me to perform.

I haven't kissed him yet, and I shouldn't be nervous considering how many boys I
have
kissed. Maybe it's the fact that we are fake that makes my stomach twist.

Or the fact that Jaime is watching.

Buck up, Brit. You watch Jaime kiss girls all of the time. You
make
him kiss other girls. That's his job, just like this is yours.

I have nothing to whine about. Micah is a hell of a good-looking guy and probably has had a lot of practice with women.

So I throw on my most sincere grin, and when he approaches me, I rest my hands on his waist and kiss him.

"Nice touch," he whispers when we part, obviously impressed. "I was a little worried about your acting, I have to admit."

I cock my head. "You know little about me, then."

When Dad, Cam, and Jaime approach, I can see the gears working in both Dad
’s
and Micah's head. Dad's trying to figure out if the kiss means that we're official. But Micah's eyes are on Jaime.

"I keep seeing you everywhere lately," Micah says slyly.

"Oh really?" Dad asks. "And where does Mr. Rivera keep popping up?"

Dammit, Dad. He thinks he's being funny and striking up conversation when in reality he's being far too nosey for my tastes.

"Oh, you know." Micah smirks. "Around town."

Jaime looks like he's waiting for this conversation to take an interesting turn.

"Change of plans," Dad says. "Mom wants me to invite all of your friends over for an early dinner. She says the cooks have already started and wants you to procure a list of... refreshments.
”

By refreshments he absolutely means to figure out what booze everyone wants. My parents may be conservative, but they're not idiots. They know that a bunch of twenty-somethings can't have a happy dinner without copious amounts of alcohol.

He nods to Micah. "You should come."

Goddammit.

"I'd love to, Mr. McCulley."

Micah agrees to meet us over at the estate, and when we finally part ways and head to the parking lot, Jaime holds back long enough to whisper, "Gay," to me.

I eye him down. "Are you planning on proving that to me?"

"We can make a game of it," he says.

I scoff. "Fuck off, Jaime."

He chuckles as I walk away from him.

///

Back at home, the hired help sets up a banquet table outside by the pool, lavishly decorated with centerpieces and surrounded by tiki torches. The menu includes all different kinds of barbecued dishes and summer picnic food.

Micah is already at the house by the time my models arrive, his arm wrapped around my waist as I stand with him, listening to him make small talk with my parents and dance around the prospect of a merger between my dad's company and his dad's company. Our fake relationship is an ingenious plan, really. Mom and Dad obviously greatly approve of Micah. Regardless of how superficial our relationship is in the greater picture of this merger, no one can deny the magic of good family ties.

When I'm halfway to drunk, I slip from Micah's arm and hurry over to Evan and Dallas who are seated in a set of lounge chairs. I plop myself down by Evan’s legs.

"What does Jaime think about that set up?" Dallas asks, nodding to Micah.

"Surprisingly, he thinks it's more funny than anything. He also thinks Micah is gay... not like it matters what he thinks. We're not together."

"That so?" Dallas leans back in his chair. "You sure about that?"

"Why are you asking?"

He shrugs. “Jaime just talks about you a lot is all. Absentmindedly almost, like everyone knows you two are screwing."

"Dallas," I hiss, glancing over at my parents
,
even though they're on the opposite side of the pool and still invested in Micah.

"I'm just saying, the way he talks around the models is like you two are something. He doesn't act like it's a pride thing either. It's like he talks about you because he can't help it."

Before I realize what I'm doing, my eyes drift over to Jaime, who's lounging beneath the gazebo with Adam, Delilah, and Ella. When he glances at me, he stands, walking out of the gazebo and down the pathway leading to my parents
’
small, flourishing flower garden.

It's an invitation if I ever saw one.

And like we share a mind, Evan says, "Go."

I make sure Micah's still distracting my parents, and then follow Jaime into the garden. He's sitting on a bench by the fountain my parents installed when I was a teenager, highly filtered and smelling strongly of chlorine. My parents
—
or whoever they hired to take care of the garden--obviously don't understand that an outdoor fountain isn't supposed to be sanitary and scrubbed clean.

"Won't your boyfriend miss you?" Jaime asks.

I sit next to him. "As much as he'll miss you, considering how
gay
he is."

"Hah, well, we'll find out if I can get into his pants in the men's restroom on Saturday."

"What's Saturday?" I ask.

"A benefit dinner. Your dad invited me."

I raise my hand to my mouth. "Oh shit. I forgot."

"You’ll be on Micah's arm, and Ava Jennings will be on mine."

"Ava Jennings? How the hell did you manage that?"

He shrugs. "I knew her from when I was a kid. Called her up and asked her and she said yes."

"Ava Jennings will not be on your arm. You'll be on hers. Unless you've forgotten..."

"I haven't forgotten..."

"How drop-dead gorgeous and unstoppable she is." A twinge of jealously twists my insides and I kill it quickly when I remember how gracefully Jaime has put up with this whole Micah bullshit.

I forgot about the wine in my hand, and take a huge gulp.

"We're sharing a limo over. And a table at the benefit."

I turn my head as wine sprays from my mouth.

"That was dramatic," he says.

"Why?!"

"I might have said that it would be a good idea?" I sock him in the arm, and he flinches away. "Hey, now, that's not nice."

"That's torture for me, you realize that, right? Being with someone because I have to while watching the one who I really want to be with cuddling up to a gorgeous woman all night." It makes me feel vulnerable as all hell admitting this to him, but it's liberating too, talking about the elephant in the room.

Us. Together.

His face relaxes, and he smiles. For once, it isn't a smirk. "How long will the benefit be?"

"Six-ish hours."

"So for six-ish hours we'll be making nice with our dates, and then we'll go home, and I'll sneak through your window in my tux and let you undress me."

I guffaw. "Just undress you?"

"We'll see where the night takes us after that."

"But six hours is a long time."

"Wear something slinky, preferably with a low v-cut so I can keep myself occupied by staring at your boobs all night."

"Fuck off."

He laughs, and then I laugh. When we quiet again, he bites down on his bottom lip. I realize I haven't gotten him naked enough yet. I need to devise a shoot with him in it.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

"No," I say, standing and spinning on my heel and leaving him in the garden.

I need him waiting for that kiss. I need him wanting me.

When I arrive back at the banquet table, the food is served and everyone is decently drunk. My parents are nowhere to be seen, and the alcohol is coursing pleasantly through my veins, so I stand on a bench and ting my fork against my glass.