"Not a fucking chance." He leaned in and kissed me softly. "Especially not if it means this will happen again."
"Even without the freak-out," I promised.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Everyone said I should be more social. Dan said that if we wanted people on our side, then we had to meet them. So, Thursday evening, I pulled up to Bev's house with five bottles of damned good wine. Two red, two white, and a pink, just to round it out. Ash had given me a cloth bag with the Risqué logo on it to carry them.
The problem was that I sucked at this. I'd much rather be at home watching Luke and Cy glance at each other meaningfully. Oh, I knew something had happened between them. I wasn't sure what, and I sure wasn't about to ask, but if they didn't tell me, I knew Ash would. Then there was Faith. She'd talked Zeke into giving her both his number and his mom's - she hadn't yet realized the implications of asking a boy for his number - and that girl was thrilled with the idea of him coming over to hang out.
All of that would've been great. Instead, I was here. Trying to make the most of it, I gathered up the wine and climbed out, hearing laughter coming from the house. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had stage fright, but this felt a lot like it. My guts were too tense, my heart was beating a little too fast, and I felt like I was wearing all the wrong things, even if it was just a tee and some jeans.
Still, I climbed the stairs to the front door and knocked. A few seconds later, someone opened it, smiling at the newcomer right up until her eyes landed on me. Then that happy look turned into a scowl.
"You lost?" she sneered.
"Violet!" Bev called from out of sight. "Marcy, let her in. I invited her."
So Marcy opened the door, and I slipped through. "Hey, Bev. I brought wine and those catalogs you asked for."
"I really need to get on that mailing list," she joked, holding out her hand. "Fall sale still going on?"
"Until Thanksgiving," I assured her, passing one over.
"Ladies!" Bev immediately called out, heading into a large room just before me. "Oh, Violet, just put that over on the counter there." Then she waved her hands as if summoning a crowd. "Ladies, I promised good lingerie, and I've got the catalog now. Come look at this."
"Is that her on the front?" someone asked.
I could hear them, but I focused on setting out the wine I'd brought, stacking it up so everyone could see the options. So many times, I'd stripped off my clothes and walked in front of hordes of people, and that didn't bother me. So why did this? Why did I feel like every comment was somehow cutting a little deeper than words ever should?
"Do they do that photoshop magic on this, dear?" Bev asked, clearly talking to me.
"Some," I said. "Mostly it's just tricks of makeup and lighting."
"Well, you look like you weigh just about nothing," she taunted.
"Anorexia nervosa after being bullied as a kid. Worked out well for modeling, though." I pushed a smile to my lips. "It's pretty common in the industry. If we weigh over a hundred pounds or get over thirty, we're done."
"How old are you?" a brunette I didn't know asked.
"Twenty-eight," I told her. "But Risqué doesn't use those types of restrictions. Just the fashion shows. Well, and a lot of the other lingerie companies. Risqué's trying to use more realistic models so the buyers can see how clothes really look. I promise that most people don't wear a double zero, and yes, I weigh over a hundred pounds."
"Do you?" This time, the voice was one I recognized. It came from Maisie, the girl from the gas station. The same one who'd bullied me so long ago.
"I'm a size one now," I admitted. "Ash keeps trying to get me to gain weight, but it's not that easy."
"Might be if you got off the drugs." This came from Jodi.
"Stop," Maisie, of all people, hissed. "She's not on drugs and we all know it. She's just pretty."
"I'm just a mess," I told them. "Most models are, and it's not an easy career. My roommate, Ashton? He started gaining muscles and stopped getting contracts. That's why he opened Risqué. He could've turned to hormones or diets to lose the mass, but we promised Gran - "
"The dyke?" Jodi asked.
I let my eyes close and pulled in a breath, forcing myself to keep my composure. "Look, Jodi. If you want to tear me down, you go right ahead. You want to come after Ash? He's a big boy and can take it. Everyone else at Southwind, alive or dead, is off limits."
"So you're saying she wasn't a dyke?"
"Dunno, are you a cunt?" I asked.
