All the Pretty Lies (Pretty #1)(27)
Author: M. Leighton

Kill me now!

“Oh shit,” Paul whispers. “Are you…you’re not…are you modeling?”

Hemi steps out into the room, catching my eye. When I look at him, he’s watching me, waiting for an answer. It’s the look on his face that brings out the brazen side of me, the side that I’ve only gotten a few glimpses of.

“As a matter of fact I am. Is there a problem with that?” I direct my question to Paul.

“Are you kidding me? Hell no, there’s no problem with that.”

I flush at his comment and the appreciative light in his eyes. It couldn’t come at a better time. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe I do need an ego boost.

“You can’t be serious,” Hemi says when he finally speaks up. Both his tone and his doubt irritate me.

“Of course I’m serious. Why would I not be?”

“You’re just gonna…strip down? In front of perfect strangers? And sit still while they draw you?”

“Yep. Pretty much,” I reply pluckily. “Maybe I can drum up some business for your work. I mean, I do have some new body art to display.”

Hemi looks furious and I have no idea why. But at the moment, I don’t care. This feels good. Really good.

“I’ll be sure to pay very close attention,” Paul says, his grin teasing.

“I’m sure you will,” Hemi bites. “It would be a shame if I needed you to fill in here tomorrow night, wouldn’t it?”

Paul’s smile fades. “What…are you serious?”

“No, he’s not serious,” I interrupt before Hemi can speak. “He’s got extra hands around here now. Sasha’s a pro. She can fill in, I’m sure.” I turn to look at Hemi, challenge in my eyes. “Right, Hemi?”

He says nothing. I hold his gaze, feeling bolder than ever. I will not play the lesser role to Sasha. For the first time since she showed up, I don’t feel lesser.

I can see Paul’s head moving back and forth between me and Hemi. I wonder if he senses the tension.

“I’ll be back in Saturday night,” I tell Hemi, dismissing him quickly as I turn to Paul. “And I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

With that, I turn and walk away, calling over my shoulder as I walk out the door, “’Night, guys.”

I smile all the way to the car.

********

My bravado lasts right up until Friday night when I’m dressed in nothing but a robe, sitting on a stool in a small room, being made-up by a student of the local cosmetology school. She has fixed my hair and makeup under the strict guidance of my teacher. As Ms. Shuler told the girl what she wanted me to look like, I could easily picture her vision. And the end result is very close to what I’d imagined. My instructor seemed happy as well.

My hair is a mass of shiny black curls, piled high on top of my head, anchored with tiny white flowers sprinkled throughout. Several strands were left to dangle artfully over my shoulder. My makeup is smoky around my eyes, but my skin was left pale to bring out the punch of my ruby red lips. The idea behind the scene is that I hold both an innocence—the dainty curls and child-like white flowers—as well as a sexiness—the red lips and smoky eyes—a dichotomy that the artists are to bring out in their sketches in their own way. I’ll be completely nude, leaning back on one elbow, one knee bent, holding a bright green apple against my throat, my head tilted back.

In a way, I’m excited about it. I’m anxious to see how the drawings turn out. I’ve always been fascinated by how differently people can interpret the same image, and how they bring it to life in their art. It makes me wish that I could be in the pool of burgeoning artists, drawing, rather than on the table, modeling. But this is my place tonight. Maybe the next one that’s presented to the class, I’ll have the good sense to sign up for rather than having my head so far up some guy’s ass that I wouldn’t even dream of foregoing a night in his shop to do something school-related.

I sigh. Those days are over. My head is no longer up Hemi’s ass. Things have changed. I see that now. But at least I managed to retrieve a little bit of my dignity, thanks to Sarah. I can never tell her that, of course. Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it. No matter what harebrained scheme she comes up with, she’d always expect me to go along with it because of the one time she was right.

I smile and shake my head as I think of my friend. She’d be proud of me if she could see me now. Although I’m glad she can’t. It’s bad enough that I’ll have to look Paul in the eye at the studio after this.

“It’s time,” my professor, Anita Shuler, says when she pokes her head through the door.

I take a deep breath, gather every speck of bravery that I can find and I walk, head held high, out the door behind her. This will all be over in two hours. Just two hours. I can do anything for two hours.

Right?

Right.

Ms. Shuler stops just outside the doorway to the room filled with perfect strangers who will see me in the buff in a few minutes. “Wait here.”

The glass window in the center of the wooden door has been covered, blacked out. I guess so that people can’t casually walk by and see me naked. Thank God for that!

I hear her as she addresses the students inside. She’s reminding them what the purpose of tonight’s exercise is and how she expects everyone to behave. I’m glad she’s reiterating it and, therefore, sparing me from having to endure any degrading, juvenile reactions.

When she finishes, I wait, uncertain whether I’m supposed to make my entrance now, or…

But then the door opens again and Ms. Shuler appears. She holds it closed behind her just long enough to encourage me.

“Go in there with your head held high. Don’t look around. Pretend you’re the only one in the room. If you have to, replay your favorite song over and over and over in your head until this is over.”

“Thank you, Ms. Shuler. Is it that obvious that I’m nervous?”

“No, but I did this once in college, too. I remember what it felt like. Trust me,” she says with a kind smile, “when it’s over, you’ll be glad you did it.”

“And until then?”

She winks at me. “Just keep thinking of that song.”

Nervously, I return her smile. I let it fall from my face as she opens the door. I follow her through, keeping my eyes locked on the space between her shoulder blades. She leads me right to the table and stands in front of me while I untie the robe and let it fall down my arms to pool in the floor.