Chapter 10
10
Ainsley
K ristie stares at me, her blue eyes serious.
“So he asked you to marry him,” she says while ripping apart a cinnamon bun. We’re at a trendy coffee shop that just opened in Vegas, known for its fancy cinnamon buns of all flavors. Kristie has one with sliced bananas on top, drizzled with icing and cinnamon. Meanwhile, mine is a purple color which means it’s allegedly ube, but to be honest, I can never make out a special taste when I eat ube. It just tastes like yam to me.
But Kristie is one of my best friends, and we met as plus-size models going to casting calls. Sometimes, the two of us would be the only curvy girls in a room full of straight-size skinny twigs, so we bonded. Of course, we’re also allegedly “competitors,” but it’s always been a friendly competition between us. Whereas I’m an Irish rose with green eyes, red hair, and fair skin, Kristie is a gorgeous golden blonde, with big blue eyes and tanned skin. We look different, and as a result, we wouldn’t be picked up for the same jobs.
Besides, we’ve always been supportive of one another’s careers, and to my delight, we’ve formed a strong friendship as well. Kristie immediately proposed coffee when I called her sobbing, and I’m grateful for her kind ear.
“So Karl wants you to marry him,” she says in a low voice, still tearing at her cinnamon bun. “But what do you want, Ainsley?”
My eyes tear up suddenly, and I angrily dash them away.
“I want to kill Justin West, that’s what I want,” I manage in a shaking voice. Kristie nods, sympathetic.
“Of course but that’s not possible, Ains. You’re not going to become a murderer and go away to jail for umpteen years. You’re you, and I’m sure the hullaballoo will blow over.”
I shake my head, tears still leaking from my eyes.
“But everyone thinks that I’m a Nazi sympathizer! It’s all over the gossip sites, Kris. The influencers literally went to the Secretary of State’s website, and dug up the LLC’s incorporation papers. Sure enough, my name is on them, right next to Justin’s, and everyone’s blaming me for buying the Superbowl spot.”
Kristie shakes her head.
“But it doesn’t even make sense. Everyone knows that Justin West was controlling you. He’s a billionaire rapper, and you’re just an aspiring model! Power imbalance, anyone? Plus, whenever you showed up at events, you were like a zombie, girlfriend. That man was feeding you drugs.”
“No, I wasn’t on drugs,” I correct sadly. “I was just so upset that he made me wear those naked dresses that I was disassociating. I’d pretend I wasn’t there, although maybe I should have insisted on drugs to get me through the evening. I hear ketamine is great for that.”
Kristie shakes her head, her blonde hair swaying.
“No, no,” she says in a firm voice. “No ketamine, Adderall, or Xanax needed. Honestly, sweetie, I’m not sure what we can do about the Nazi rumors. They have taken down the site, right?”
I nod miserably.
“Prowler went dark as soon as Shopify realized what was going on. They shut that down fast.”
Kristie nods slowly, her expression thoughtful.
“Okay, at least that’s over and done with. But again, I’m not sure what we can do to dispel rumors that you’re not anti-semitic. You know how these internet sleuths are. They find something and immediately hold it aloft as the be all, end all of truth, justice, and righteousness. It’s disgusting, if you ask me, especially since a lot of them are trolls sitting in front of computer monitors all day. I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, if I were them.”
I nod sadly.
“I know,” is my soft voice. “I just wish there was something I could do.”
“Well, there is something,” Kristie says in an encouraging voice. “You can get married to Karl! You love him, right? You want to make babies with the gorgeous Swede, and have little tow-headed kids running all over the place.”
I swallow hard because this might be the toughest part of all. Tears come to my eyes again, and to my dismay, the sobs start all over again.
“I do love Karl,” I say in a choked voice. “He’s everything to me, and shown me what love is about. But I don’t want to pull him into my mess. Everyone thinks I’m a Nazi sympathizer now, and they’re going to think that he is too, if he marries me. He deserves better than that.”
Kristie is silent for a moment.
“Maybe, but does he care?” my friend asks in a gentle tone. “I mean, Karl knows you. He knows you don’t have an antisemitic bone in your body. He knows the truth about what happened with those swastika sweatshirts, so maybe it doesn’t matter.”
“I know,” I say immediately, wiping at my cheeks. “He says he loves me no matter how this turns out, and supports me a hundred percent. But the problem is that I don’t want to do this to him !” I wail, uncaring that people are beginning to look at us in the café. “Karl deserves better. He’s so tall and handsome, and kind and honorable too. He deserves a woman who’s not tainted, who will give him beautiful Swedish babies as they ride off into the sunset. They deserve to live in a gorgeous Scandinavian-style house filled with blond wood furniture and plenty of light. They’ll drink piping hot cups of cocoa in the winter and snuggle into thick blankets as part of Swedish hygge culture.”
“Okay, I think you’re too into the Swedish stuff,” my friend says in a droll tone. “Karl is a sexy former military guy, so I can’t really see him sipping hot cocoa from a mug with a heart on it, like in an Ikea catalog. But that’s neither here nor there,” she says quickly. “What matters is that you love him, and that he’s supporting you through this tragedy. I mean, this tragicomedy,” Kristie corrects quickly, trying to make the best of the situation.
I pin her with a sorrowful look.
“There’s nothing comedic about swastikas,” I say in a low tone.
“No, of course not!” she hurries. “I’m just saying that you love Karl, he adores you, and the sex is good.”
“The sex is amazing, off the charts hot,” I acknowledge, looking down at my untouched cinnamon bun. “I’ve never come so many times in my life and Karl knows exactly where to touch, and how to stroke.”
“See? Perfect!” Kristie says with a big smile. “Men will look past anything if the sex is good. Besides, you’re not wreaking havoc on his life, Ains. Okay, maybe a little, but that’s only right now . Long-term, everyone’s going to forget this. It’s just a blip on the radar, and then it’ll pass.”
I shoot her a sad look.
“I won’t have a career anymore. I already kind of didn’t because no one wanted to book me after Justin and I broke up.”
“But that guy was nuts,” Kristie says. “Besides, it’s better that you’re broken up because Justin is definitely toxic now. No one will touch him with a ten-foot pole. Hell, a hundred-foot pole! I heard that Adirite’s dropped him, in fact.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard too,” I say in a faint tone. “But he’ll find a way. Justin’s crafty, and commands a global audience wherever he goes. He’ll find another method of getting Prowler goods sold.” I sigh again before turning to Kristie. “But what about you, girlfriend? We’ve spent an hour talking about the tragicomedy of my life. Is anything going on with you?”
Kristie purses her lips for a moment.
“Well, Joseph’s not happy.”
I nod.
“That’s your agent, right?”
“Yeah, over at Busby Model Management. He’s pissed because I need to go home for a family wedding, so I’m taking three weeks off. Joseph says it’s career suicide, seeing that there are a couple important shows during that time.”
I shake my head.
“At least he’s putting you up for the castings. I don’t even have an agency right now.”
Kristie puts her hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I’ll put in a good word for you with my agency, although I wouldn’t recommend going with Joseph, seeing that he’s giving me hell. But yes, I’m taking off,” she says in a firm voice. “It’s a family wedding and I need to be there.”
“Of course,” I say in a sympathetic voice. “Geez, to think your agent would get so mad over something like that! But who’s getting married?”
“It’s my little stepsister,” Kristie replies. “I’ll be seeing her, my stepdad, and my stepbrother again.”
“Okay, cool,” I say. “But you see them regularly, right? At least over the holidays? Didn’t they come to one of your shows? I feel like I’ve met your stepbrother before.”
“Oh no, no,” Kristie says quickly, her cheeks blushing. “No one’s ever come. In fact, I haven’t seen them for two years because after my mom passed, I lost contact with my stepfamily.”
I stare at her quizzically.
“But they want you to attend your stepsister’s wedding?”
Kristie blushes.
“Yeah, and I can’t say no. Milly is my baby sister, and she’s begging me to attend, so I said yes,” she exclaims while throwing her hands up in the air. “I guess I’ll be the maid of honor if she insists.”
I nod slowly. Something here isn’t adding up, and I shoot her a curious look.
“So remember the man I saw you talking to at the Ultramarine show last year? That wasn’t your stepbrother? Or your stepdad?”
To Kristie’s credit, she knows exactly who I’m referring to.
“No, no!” she squeals in a rather too high-pitched voice. “That was just a random guy that I met who’s in the industry. I think he was a model scout and was speaking to me about switching agencies, but you know what? I lost his card immediately afterwards, and we never linked up.”
I know something’s not right because that man was gorgeous, and Kristie was all smiles while chatting with him. Her golden hair streamed down her back, and she was positively glowing. I know something weird is going on, but I’m not sure what it is. But I don’t want to push more because it’d be rude. Kristie obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, although any mention of her stepfamily seems to make her jumpy.
“Okay, just asking,” I say with a wan smile. Then I glance at my cinnamon roll. “Oh man, I didn’t eat any of this because it’s huge and I’m not hungry. Do you want it?”
Kristie shakes her head.
“No, because I devoured mine and it was probably a thousand calories, minimum. But don’t you love being curvy, Ains? People pay us to be the way we are, which is feminine and sexy, whereas other models have to starve themselves to fit into sample sizes. I feel bad for them,” she says with a shudder.
“I know, especially now that Ozempic’s on the market. I bet they force the girls to take that if they even so much as put on two pounds,” I say. “But okay, I’m going to pack this up and go home. Are you ready to roll?”
“You know it,” Kristie smiles sunnily. “Ready when you are!”
Then, I signal to the counter person for a takeaway container before manhandling the pastry into a cute pink box. I’ll bring this home for Karl because I adore the handsome Swede and his caveman ways. I love how he treats me, cherishing my opinions while also ravaging my curves like a hungry wolf. I love how he tosses me around in bed, my hefty curves no match for his powerful six foot six frame. I love everything about Karl ... and it’s breaking my heart to turn down his proposal.