Crazy Bitch (Bitches and Queens) (3 page)

“I’m good,” Kate said
suspiciously.

“You’re good?” Sam questioned.

“Yep, good,” Kate reaffirmed.

“You mean that?” Sam
questioned. “You’re really good? You are not just saying that now and later you’ll
say you were awful and I should have known even though you said you were good?”

“Good Lord, what did that woman
say to you?”

After her interview, Willow decided
to stop by
Mulligan’s,
a downtown bar where her live-in boyfriend,
Zachary Bell, worked part-time. He moved to Austin from Ohio three years ago to
break into the music scene. His band,
Z-Bells,
was just starting to get
their foot in the door, but he still needed to supplement his income. He told
her more than once that he couldn’t wait until she got out of school and
started working full time so that he could solely devote his time to music.
Knowing what a fantastic opportunity this could be for her, Zachary was almost
as excited as she was when Hannah called.

The bar was nearly empty at
this time of day. Zachary spotted her as soon as she walked in the door and
called out loudly, “How did it go, babe?”

“Good, I guess,” Willow
squeaked with a shrug.

“Did she cuss you out as soon
as you walked in the door?”

Willow laughed as she sashayed
across the floor and sat down at the counter opposite him. “No, actually she
was very polite.”

On the way over, Willow decided
that maybe the press had given Hannah a bad rap. She was a face—not a voice.
Not that she hadn’t had her fair share of airtime. Unfortunately, whenever
Hannah spoke on camera, it was usually so profanity-laced that every other word
had to be censored. Perhaps they only aired her finer moments?

“Tell me all,” Zachary teased.

Willow proceeded to give him
all the details as she munched on a stash of peanuts left over from the night
before.

“I don’t think she would go
into all that ancillary crap if she wasn’t really interested. Sounds like you’ve
got this, babe. Let’s have a drink in celebration.”

“I don’t know.” Willow shrugged
about his confidence. Typically, she didn’t drink at this hour of the day but
readily accepted the free longneck.

“You never believe in yourself.
You’ve got this. This is your moment. Shine, baby, shine,” Zachary exclaimed.

Willow giggled at his
exuberance. It was one of the reasons they made so much sense together. Every
couple needs a dreamer and a realist. Zachary was the dreamer. He came to
Austin with only two hundred dollars in his pocket and a set of pipes that
could blow away the harshest critic. Who even does that anymore? Zachary did. He
was the kind of guy that would chase his dream to the furthest corners of the
globe.

Another reason they worked so
well was that monogamy wasn’t the right fit for either of them. Zachary would
never be satisfied with only one woman, and he would never be able to fulfill
all her needs. No man would. Years ago, when Willow first became aware of her attraction,
she realized she was drawn to both sexes. If hard pressed, she would describe
herself as mainly straight with an occasional gay inkling. Fortunately, Zachary
not only overlooked her wondering eyes—he
encouraged
it. They met by
happenstance a little over two years ago. Karma was definitely on her side that
night as it had been the most fulfilling relationship she had ever had with
either a man or woman.

“There’s one more thing,”
Willow said nervously and then explained the exclusivity clause.

Zachary seemed to accept it
with an intelligent-looking nod but then his eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well,
it’s not like she would ever know. All priss and satin, a woman like that would
never be caught dead at one of your performances.”

“But…” Willow groaned. She
needed Zachary to be one-hundred percent on board. She needed him to accept
that for the next six months, she wouldn’t be dancing. The money was killer. In
a single night, Willow could bring home what he made working part-time in six
months. At a birthday party last year, some anonymous person left her a five-thousand
dollar tip. But Willow didn’t want to spend the rest of her life dancing
half-naked for a room full of horny strangers. “…if I do get this opportunity,
and she discovered I had broken the contract, it could ruin me. This is Hannah
Fairbanks we’re talking about here, one of the most famous supermodels around.
She knows everyone in the industry.”

“You’re right,” Zachary
shrugged. “You’re right, babe. No worries. I’ll pick up a few extra shifts. We’ll
be fine. So, is she as hot in person?”

Willow knew where his one-track
mind was headed. Straight down to a dead end. The thought of Hannah with her
elegant, yet unearthly, beauty—she did almost resemble an angel with her
platinum hair and gigantic, vivid blue eyes; the only thing missing was the
wings—and Zachary, her Mohawk-sporting, tattoo-covered boyfriend, was almost
laughable. Actually, Willow did want to laugh but held it in because she didn’t
want to hurt his feelings.

“Yes, she is, and no—that is
never going to happen,” Willow said.

“What?” Zachary shrugged
innocently.

“There was nothing in the contract
about threesomes with my boyfriend,” she answered coyly.

“Hey, what’s wrong with a guy dreaming?”

“Nothing, just as long as you
keep those thoughts in your head,” Willow cautioned. If, and it was a huge if,
she got this internship, the last thing she needed was her boyfriend coming on
to her boss. She would die of embarrassment. Hannah would probably die of
embarrassment too, if she didn’t try to kick his ass first. Or maybe, she was
used to that sort of thing? Either way, Hannah didn’t strike her as an overtly
sexual being. They had only talked for a little less than an hour, but Willow
definitely picked up on an ice queen sort of vibe. The more she thought about
it, Willow realized she couldn’t imagine Hannah having sex with anyone. Not
that it mattered much; Willow didn’t care who Hannah fucked as long as she gave
her a glowing reference.

A week went by. With each
passing day, Willow grew increasingly gloomier—the very reason she tried not to
get her hopes up—but it had been hard not to dream. Although she didn’t have
any classes that afternoon, she went to the university studio to work on her
designs. Normally, she didn’t mind working from the small, one-bedroom
apartment she shared with Zachary, but they had called a band meeting, which
was really code for a bunch of guys sitting around the living room getting
drunk. Zachary said it was part of the creative process.

To each their own, Willow
supposed. She tapped into her creative well by listening to music as loud as
her eardrums allowed. To counteract her blues, her iPod blared with a roaring
rock tune. Staring down at her sketch, lost in her own little world, Willow
wasn’t aware she wasn’t alone until she felt someone tap her shoulder.

Startled, she jumped, turned
around, and was even more surprised to find Hannah standing beside her. As she
took the earbuds out, she heard Hannah say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten
you.”

“It’s all right. I just wasn’t
expecting anyone,” Willow said almost shyly.

Willow could hardly believe she
had come. Wearing some designer sequined shirt, black leggings, and stiletto
heels, Hannah was the epitome of high fashion and towered over Willow’s five-
feet-four
inches by at least a foot. Willow self-consciously plucked at the neckline of
her old t-shirt. With her hair pinned back away from her face and pair of faded,
blue jean cutoff shorts, she began to feel downright shabby. Although she was
thrilled Hannah was here, and by what she thought she might have to say, Willow
privately wished she would have called first.

“I was told I could find you
here.”

“I can’t believe you just
walked in here,” Willow exclaimed with a bright smile.

“Was I not supposed to?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just
surprised you weren’t mobbed along the way.”

“I’m used to that sort of
thing,” Hannah dismissed with the wave of her hand. “Were you working on
something new?”

“It’s nothing,” Willow denied.

Hannah leaned over Willow’s
shoulder to look at the sketch. She took a step forward as her long finger
reached out and traced the long, lean lines of the female drawing. “It looks
like something to me.”

“It’s just a new idea I’m
playing with, but I haven’t figured out where I want to go with it yet.”

Hannah moved her hand away and
took a step back to look down at Willow’s face. “When you do figure it out, be
sure to let me know. It will probably belong to me, if you are still interested
in the internship.”

“Oh my God! Are you serious?”
Willow screamed excitedly.

Hannah laughed. “I wouldn’t
drive all the way here to tell you I picked someone else. I’m not that nice of
a person. If you are free, I thought I could take you to lunch so we could work
out the details.”

“Yeah,” Willow gleefully agreed
and then a frown started to pucker her mouth. “I look horrible. I don’t want to
be seen in public with you.”

“You look fine,” Hannah denied
with a smile. “We’ll go somewhere quiet.”

“It had better be a
hole-in-the-wall. Otherwise, they will think you’re slumming,” Willow
cautioned.

“It wouldn’t be the worst they
ever thought of me. Come on, let’s get out of here,” Hannah said.

As they sat in the quiet,
Tex-Mex restaurant, Willow had an out-of-body experience. She could hardly
believe she was eating lunch with Hannah Fairbanks. A fashion icon, everything
about her emitted style and grace. Even the way she held her fork was dainty
and elegant.

“Tell me more about yourself,”
Hannah said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Hannah murmured. “I
want to know everything. Start by telling me more about your unconventional
childhood.”

“My mother’s name is Lola Jane
Mallory. She was the sweetest, most loving woman around,” Willow started.

“Doesn’t sound too far off the
beaten track to me,” Hannah said coyly. “What about your father?”

Willow took a sip of her glass
of water and then put it down. “I didn’t know my father. I don’t even know his
name. I don’t know if my mother ever knew his name.”

“All right…” Hannah purred, “…the
story grows more intriguing. Tell me more. Did you grow up in Austin?”

“Yes, I’m a native. We moved
around a lot when I was growing up. Sometimes we lived in apartments and
trailer parks, but most of the time we stayed in shelters. My mother had
serious health issues and couldn’t work. When I was sixteen, she died from AIDS-related
pneumonia, and I was legally emancipated. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

“How sad; I’m sorry,” Hannah
said quietly.

“It was sad to lose her so
young, but she really made the most of her short time on earth.”

Hannah looked down at her plate
as she toyed with the refried caloric nightmare. “And now?” she questioned
softly as she looked up and seared Willow with her bright blue eyes. “Are you
still on your own?”

“Not exactly. I live with my
boyfriend, Zachary Bell. He works as a bartender downtown.”

“Fabulous,” Hannah said with a
smile.

“But he’s in a band too,”
Willow quickly rushed.

“Aren’t they all?”

Something about her words
caught Willow off guard. It sounded a bit snide, but Hannah’s unblinking eyes
were still filled with a wide-eyed innocence. Maybe she had just imagined it? “He’s
actually very talented. His band is on the verge of a breakthrough.”

“A rock star’s girlfriend, huh?
Sounds exciting. How long have the two of you been together?”

“A little over two years.”

Hannah cleared her throat and
reached for her water. “Two years?” she repeated. “Well, I hope he isn’t the
jealous type.”

Willow chuckled. “No, Zachary
is the opposite of the jealous type.”

“Good, because for the next six
months—I will own you.”

Own her?
Willow
didn’t like the sound of that. In fact, it sent a little tingle of apprehension
down her spine. Surely, Hannah meant it figuratively. Didn’t she? Shaking it
off, Willow decided her jumble of nervous excitement had made her paranoid.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m
very excited about this. Your internship doesn’t technically start until
January, but I would
love
to get started right away,” Hannah said.

“Yes, certainly,” Willow
quickly agreed.

“Good,” Hannah purred as she
pulled out her phone. “My schedule is insane until after the holidays. I’ll be
all over the globe for the next few months. It would be easier if you could
give me your class schedule, and I’ll work something out.”

While Willow recited her class
load, Hannah typed the information into her notes on her phone. After she was
finished, Hannah asked, “Do you have any other time commitments I should know
about?”