Cora’s smile brightens in the reflection of the lighted mirror, and she twists in her seat to hold out her hand. “Rae! So nice to meet you.”
I shake her hand and try not to fluster. “Great to meet you.” She’s a normal person. She’s just a person.
“Thanks for coming on so late in the project. You’re a total lifesaver!”
“I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“I watch makeup tutorials when I can’t sleep. It’s like, my thing. I came across yours, and you’re really good. I’m happy you’re here.”
“Oh.” It all clicks. Wow. I haven’t added content to my YouTube account in almost a year. I started doing them as something fun, and they were for a while, but my ex thought they were a waste of time. I guess after being told so for so long, I started to believe. Confidence straightens my spine knowing those “silly” videos were probably what landed me this job on set. “I’m glad you like them.”
“Love them! I hope you add more soon. I subscribed to your channel. I’ll tweet about it too, if you want.”
“That’s so nice.” You don’t have to. I almost add, but conversations with Jude echo in the back of my mind and his influence stops me. She wouldn’t offer if she didn’t want to. Or if she didn’t enjoy my work. I maintain a sane, cool expression, but inside I’m doing cartwheels. If she shows my social media account some attention, that would be huge!
De’Shaun flips open a book, begins explaining the look we’re going for today. I focus on the work, listening and taking everything in. Thankfully, there are photos, notes, and renderings for me to work from. Not to mention a workstation stocked with anything and everything I’ll ever need. It takes me a few minutes to orient myself, but when De’Shaun cranks the volume on the Bluetooth speaker to sing along about bills with Destiny’s Child, joy so unexpected fills my chest. As Cora Bentley settles back into her seat, eyes closed and ready for me to do my thing, a genuine smile works its way onto my lips.
A sense of belonging. A wave of pride. This moment is everything.
Holy shit. I’m applying foundation to Cora freaking Bentley’s skin for a soon to be blockbuster feature film. All the struggles I’ve been through these last months—moving across the country, weeks of eating butter noodles, sharing an apartment with horrid selfish bitches—are worth it. The countless hours worked. The extra jobs. Everything. It’s led me to this opportunity, and for this one moment I feel as though I’ve arrived.
My life might not be perfect. I still don’t have a working vehicle, and there’s the roommate issue waiting at home, but for now gratitude takes the wheel and that’s fuel enough to get me through the day.
20
Jude
Come six o’clock, I’m parked outside the studio, laptop resting on my legs and phone on the center console. Work is a poor distraction as I wait for Rachel’s text. I hope she had a great day in spite of the way it began. I’m still fuming about this morning. She shouldn’t be living with people she can’t trust. I want to fix it. I want her out of there. So much that I almost drove back over to pack up her entire place so she never has to step foot in that apartment again. Even I realize how irrational that impulse is.
But if she gives me permission, I will.
Better yet . . . a plan formulates in my mind. One she’ll never go for. Unless—
The ring of my cell interrupts my daydream. The caller ID shows it’s the vendor contact I’ve been waiting on all day. I pick up and stifle my disappointment when she gives me my options. Furnishing Pierce’s little shop of kinky horrors is proving to be a real pain in the ass.
“The only craftsman I found who has a bench available and in stock is in Burbank. He said you could come by tonight, but I need to know within the hour. He’s leaving tomorrow for a month-long cruise.”
Of course he is. “He doesn’t have anyone running his shop while he’s gone?” I tap my pen on the steering wheel and review the construction timeline.
“Not everyone’s a workaholic like you and me,” Marilyn says. “Plus, I’m pretty sure he works out of his garage.”
I glance at the clock and cringe. Part of my ability to charge as much as I do is that I always meet a deadline. That, and my clients never have to lift a finger. If I’m going to get this sex dungeon created, I need to meet this vendor tonight. “Tell him I’ll be there by ten o’clock.”
If I leave now, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. But I promised I’d pick up Rachel. The thought of bailing on her twists my stomach. She’s been disappointed enough, I won’t add to it. I don’t want to dig into why that’s important, or evaluate why I’m willing to drive all over the city for more time with her when I’ve never gone to such lengths for anyone else.
It’s because you want her in your bed.
Yes, but also no. I’ve never worked this hard for a hookup. If all I want from Rachel is sex, I wouldn’t be working out of my Escalade. I wouldn’t rearrange my schedule, or insist on playing chauffer. I wouldn’t put off a vendor for a few hours.
It’s because you want more. Irritation prickles up my spine. No. That’s ridiculous. It’s because she’s got me working so hard for her attention. It’s the thrill of the chase.
A knock outside my window startles my attention.
“Hey!” Rachel waves and smiles.
I unlock the doors and pack everything into my briefcase as she slides into the passenger seat. “Good first day?” I force a casual ease into my tone, but my brows furrow at the ping of an incoming text. It’s Marilyn, and her craftsman guy wants me there by nine.
