“No fuckin’ way. No one touches my cut,” I spit out, and certainly not a pimply faced kid.
Chapter Four
Mary
Earlier…
“Mom.”
Just one word and I know exactly what mood my seventeen-year-old daughter is in. She’s at that age when she knows everything and can do anything she wants—in her own head, anyway.
Trying to stay calm, clenching my hands to keep myself from screaming, then, as patiently as I can, I explain, “A photographer approached you on the street, Alicia. He told you, you’re an attractive girl. He said very flattering things about you…” I hold up my hand, “and I agree with every word. You are photogenic, and I’m sure would make a good model. But you have no idea who this man is.”
“He gave me his business card.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. My know-it-all daughter can be very naïve, especially when she wants something. “Anyone can have cards printed, darling. Doesn’t mean they are who it says they are.”
Her face is set and sullen. Lips forming a pout, she tosses back her hair. “I trust him, Mom.”
There we have it. My daughter can’t possibly know enough about the man to know whether to trust him or not. I was incensed that a stranger had even talked to her, let alone her giving him her cell. A number that was called a couple of days ago, and it seems we’ve been arguing ever since. Well, not that it’s particularly unusual, I suppose if it wasn’t about that, it would be something different. My sole purpose in life is to ruin hers it would seem.
It had been Devon Starr who’d called her. I wish I knew someone who could investigate his background for me, but I do not. Limited as to what I can do, I’ve googled his name, and sure, there is a photographer with that handle. He’s got a legit looking website, an Instagram account, and a Facebook profile. His pictures range from fairly innocent to suggestive poses which I wouldn’t countenance Alicia modelling for. There’s no full nudity that I could see, but certainly models in their underwear. He doesn’t seem to have any physical premises, so I presume he hires a studio when he needs to.
This is the man who’s set up a meet with my daughter. Unlike her, I’m unfortunately well-versed in the ways of the world. You tend to be savvy when you’ve got sole responsibility for bringing up a child. There are bad people to be found anywhere, and it’s my job as a parent to keep her safe from them.
My daughter is pretty, her face expressive, her eyes large, and her lips full. While I agree she’s the perfect candidate for being photographed, she could also easily be a target for being abducted and stolen away.
All this I’ve tried to explain to her, but, to her mind, I’m being overly cautious.
“I can’t see the problem. I haven’t said you can’t do this, Alicia. All I’ve said is that I’ll drive you there.”
“Mom. I’m seventeen. I can drive myself.” She gives another toss of her blond hair. “What’s it going to look like when I turn up with you in tow?”
Some days I regret her learning to drive, but I’ve still got control when it’s my car she’s driving. “You’re going nowhere without me to chaperone you.” My voice is now firm. Don’t lose your temper, I remind myself. “I either come with you, or you don’t go at all.”
“You can’t stop me.” Again, I’m afforded a head toss. “I’ll get an Uber.”
Oh no, she won’t. I breathe deeply and keep my voice even. “You’ll need a parent or guardian to sign any modelling contract on your behalf.”
Her eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t say no.”
“Try me.” I can’t stop the challenge coming out of my mouth. Damn. I didn’t mean to come over as forcibly as that, but reasoning isn’t working.
She stomps her foot. “I hate you.”
“Seriously? Alicia, I know you hate me right now, but I’m only doing this because I worry about your safety.” Again I make an effort to swallow my annoyance down. “What’s the problem? I’m coming with you. I’m not going to interfere,” unless someone puts their hands where they shouldn’t be. “I’ll keep in the background, and you won’t know I’m there.”
“You’ll embarrass me.”
“What? By just standing watching?” I really can’t see why she’s so upset.
“This is my chance, and you’re going to blow it for me.”
Her chance? I could explain her modelling for a romance novel cover is not her ticket to Hollywood, but I’m sensible enough to keep my mouth shut.
If Devon Starr is legit, if he doesn’t pressure her into poses which are too suggestive, or wants her to take off her clothes, then honestly, I don’t see there’s too much of a problem. If her photos sell, then she could end up with some pocket money. I’m realistic to know that there are a lot of ifs, and that this isn’t the start of a career.
I’ve done my best raising Alicia, trying not to impose my dreams over hers, and instead encouraging her to be her own person. It’s been hard raising her for the last seven years on my own, but I’ve tried my best to raise an independent thinking girl. Sometimes I think I’ve been almost too successful. It would have been nice to share the burden at times instead of always having to be the disciplinarian, but in that, I’m on my own.
I love her so freaking much, but that doesn’t mean we don’t clash at times—times, like now.
“Oh have it your own damn way. Come with me then.” Alicia stomps her way down the hall leading to her room, mumbling something I expect I’m glad not to be able to hear.
Half an hour later, I blink, half-close my eyes, then open them fully. She’s standing, one hip jutted
