Chapter 9
9
Ainsley
I t’s been a wonderful few months with Karl. The alpha male takes care of me, and I take care of him. He’s definitely doing his job as a bodyguard because he hasn’t left my side for a moment ... or my bed, for that matter. We spend hours in it, and he fucks me morning, noon, and night. He makes me moan with pleasure, and even a glance from the handsome bodyguard is enough to make me break into a full-body blush.
But this is the life, and I love it. Sure, I realize that I’m living off my brother’s dime right now, but Patrick got what he wanted too because I broke up with Justin. No more naked dresses. No more “disassociating” in order to pretend I wasn’t there. No more embarrassing paparazzi shots of me and my tits and pussy on display, looking like a drugged-out Barbie doll.
Plus, the break-up wasn’t a big deal. When I told Justin, he merely shrugged, said something incoherent, and then I was on my way. I do miss his dogs, but I know the canines are in good hands with Janice, Brenda, and Tom. They’re excellent at Wag Walkers, and I’m certain Button is getting plenty of attention and exercise.
So yes, my life with Karl is to die for. There’s so much love, sex, and passion that I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. He keeps me constantly on my toes too, with funny quips and interesting stories, and we’re well-matched when it comes to our senses of humor. Who would have thought that the brat and the bodyguard would get along like a house on fire, in personality as well as in bed?
The only fly in the ointment is that I haven’t been landing many jobs as a plus-size model, and it bugs me. I know I’m pretty, and I know I have the “look” that’s in vogue right now. But my phone’s silent, and deep in my heart, I wonder if it’s because I’m no longer dating Justin West. Justin’s the one who’s a global superstar, and I was just the pretty girl on his arm. He’s still putting out platinum albums, and showing up in all the gossip magazines. In fact, he even has a new girlfriend now, who’s so young that I wonder if she’s even legal. Of course she must be because he’s too famous to get away with that kind of shit, but the pictures of them together are jaw-dropping because he looks positively ancient next to her fresh-faced innocence. Heck, she could be in pigtails and a school uniform, she’s so young!
But I bite my lip because it’s not my business anymore. My concern is my faltering career, and I gaze listlessly at the flatscreen on the wall as the Super Bowl plays.
“Why are people so interested in American football?” I mumble with a confused look. “All they do is bash into one another.”
Karl shoots me a grin before shrugging.
“I have no idea, sweetheart. Your guess is as good as mine because you know I’m from Sweden, and we don’t do this shit there. We ski or play soccer. American football is a mystery to me.”
I shake my head. “It’s so crazy, with all the injuries, not to mention the concussions too. The players can end up impaired for life.”
But then, the channel flips to an advertisement, and to my chagrin who shows up on the screen but Justin West? He looks like he’s in a dentist’s chair, getting his teeth fixed, but that’s exactly the kind of commercial he’d put out. The spot is bizarre, trendy, and yet all-too-compelling, and sure to get a million eyeballs on it.
I switch off the TV, disgusted.
“That bad?” Karl asks, one eyebrow raised.
I sigh, refusing to even discuss Justin.
“No, it’s fine. I just want to do more modeling, that’s all, but I haven’t been getting picked up. I don’t know. Do you think I should get new headshots for my portfolio? Or hit the pavement more? Maybe I should go to more open casting calls because people do get jobs from those.”
Karl’s black brows lower.
“But aren’t open casting calls for TV commercials and shit like that? Do they have those for models too?”
My shoulders slump a bit as my boyfriend massages my feet in his lap.
“Kind of. I mean, acting isn’t so far from modeling. Do you think I could pull off a credible American accent?” I tease, trying to speak with the flat twang of the continental U.S. “Do I seem American now?”
Karl grunts with amusement.
“You’re perfect the way you are, Ains, and I love the Irish lilt to your voice. Especially when you’re screaming my name in bed. It’s fucking music to my ears.”
I giggle, about to reply with a sassy retort, but then my phone rings and I see it’s my modeling agency. Speak of the devil!
“Hey Nancy,” I greet in a rush while pressing the cell to my ear. “How are you? I was just about to call you to discuss –”
My manager interrupts. “I’m so sorry, Ainsley, but Bone Talent can’t represent you anymore.”
I gasp, my jaw dropping.
“Is it because I haven’t been getting booked? But that makes no sense because I want to get more jobs, and I need Bone’s help landing them. It’s my portfolio, isn’t it? The photos are dated, and I know I’ve put on a bit of weight lately—”
“No, it’s not that,” Nancy says in a frigid voice.
I pause, stumped.
“Then what is it?”
Nancy’s silent for a moment, but then she speaks.
“Unfortunately, the management team at Bone Talent has made an executive decision to drop you after your Super Bowl stunt. I’m sorry, but diversity, equity, and inclusion remain important to us, and your decision to spread hate is contrary to our founding principles.”
What ? Where is this accusation coming from?
“Nancy,” I say in a shaking voice. “I’m on my couch right now. I’m not at the Super Bowl, and I have no idea what stunt you’re referring to. What are you talking about?”
Her voice is clipped.
“Don’t try to pretend like you don’t know, Ainsley. Justin West purchased a Superbowl ad which led to a website selling sweatshirts emblazoned with a swastika on them. Obviously, a swastika is anti-semitic and we don’t condone that behavior. Hate as no place at Bone.”
“Yes, obviously,” I say in a trembling voice. “But what does this have to do with me ? Justin and I broke up months ago. You know that.”
Nancy’s voice is clipped.
“We did our diligence. The ad was purchased using an LLC jointly owned by Justin and yourself, Ainsley. You are responsible for the ad, and you are a perpetrator of hate and intolerance. Bone Management simply can’t continue to work with you, and as a result, we’re severing all ties. Your profile has already come off our website, and we’ll forward any remaining royalties outstanding to you this week. Goodbye, Ainsley. We don’t tolerate bigotry and hate, and I hope you find a better way to live in this world too.”
With that, she hangs up and I’m left gape-mouthed, holding my phone.
“What happened?” Karl demands, his handsome features concerned. “Are you okay?”
I blink, still trying to process.
“My agency just dropped me,” I say in a shaky voice.
“But why?” Karl asks, his expression confused. “Is it because you haven’t been getting many call-backs?”
“No, not that,” I whisper, flicking on the TV again. The football game returns, with no mention of Justin’s hate-filled commercial, so I flick it off. Then, I pick up my phone and surf to the Prowler website. Sure enough, the only item for sale is a white sweatshirt emblazoned with a black swastika, and my jaw falls open when I see it.
“Oh my god!” I cry out, the phone dropping as my hand trembles. “She was right!”
“What is it?” Karl asks, picking up my phone. “What is this? Why are you looking at Nazi memorabilia?”
I shake my head, tears prickling my eyes.
“No, that’s the Prowler site. You know, Justin West’s clothing brand, except he’s selling Nazi paraphernalia now!”
Karl’s features immediately take on a look of disgust.
“What a fucking dipshit. That asshole deserves to be lynched. I’ll do it myself,” he rasps.
“No, no, but they think it was me ! Or at least partially me, because back when we were dating, Justin formed a couple of LLCs, and I know he put my name on some of them. So Prowler bought the Superbowl ad spot using my company, and people think that I’m responsible now!”
“But you’re not,” Karl says in a confused voice. “You have nothing to do with it at all.”
“Yeah, but you know how ruthless internet sleuths are. They’re so fucking cocky, and love “gotchu” moments. They adore big reveals, and unearthing a LLC with my name on it is like striking gold. Now, everyone thinks that I’m the mastermind behind the swastika sweatshirts.”
Karl looks stunned, his handsome features tense and drawn.
“No fucking way,” he says.
“ Yes way !” I wail, covering my face with my hands. “Oh no no no! My modeling career is over now because who’s going to hire a Nazi sympathizer?”
My lover immediately kneels on the ground next to me, taking my small hands in his.
“You don’t need this career,” he says in a rough voice. “Marry me and become my wife. I know we haven’t known each other long, sweetheart, but I’ve been thinking about it, and it feels right. I’m sorry that I don’t have a ring right now, but I want to marry you, Ainsley, and we don’t need to stay in Vegas. We don’t need to stick around as they try to cast blame on anyone and everyone. Right now, they’re just looking for a convenient scapegoat, and you happen to be the one taking the fire. Trust me, the truth will come out.”
“Yes, but what truth?” I ask in a panicked voice, my eyes beginning to roll and show their whites. “There isn’t anything to uncover because I am a co-owner of those LLCs! Now, the public thinks that I’m the Nazi mastermind, and you know how internet reputations live on forever. I’m doomed!” I wail, the tears starting in earnest now. Hot tracks course down my cheeks as I blubber and sob. “My career is over, when it never even really began! I’m fucked!”
My boyfriend pulls me into his arms, his solid mass providing comfort. “Shhh,” he hushes against my red curls. “I love you, baby girl, and we’ll figure this out together. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”
Yet I continue to sob because I can’t believe I’ve been permanently tainted by my past association with Justin West. This is so unfair! The rapper and I never really even dated. It was just for show, and I was nothing more than a mannequin on his arm.
Instead, my true love is the handsome Swedish man cradling me in his strong arms right now. Karl’s the one who takes care of me. Karl’s the one who loves me at night, and who strokes my curves while listening to my stories. I want to marry Karl because I love him, but is this even fair? After all, the gorgeous bodyguard should meet a beautiful woman without my problems, and they should make beautiful babies together. I don’t want to drag him into this mess because who knows how long it’ll go on for? The knowledge makes me bawl even harder because I love my gorgeous bodyguard ... but I also want what’s best for him, and that may mean parting ways.