Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The Kardashians are forming a rock band.
Scars can be greatly improved by ink.
I am… having fun. Weird.
After the group discussion—which I successfully attended and avoided any sort of eye contact with anyone named John—Charlene took us one by one to the side for a chat.
This was to be our final conversation before we’d send in the proposal and the blurb.
Before social media and a bunch of industry professionals decided which one of us would make it further.
I was the last one to follow her upstairs.
My hand shot out to hide a pair of used underwear behind the bed. I should’ve really tidied up before the talk, but as I casually sat across from her now, I was determined to look confident and not let any of my nerves shine through.
The new synopsis and updated chapters lay before her. Now and then, she nodded, her curls bobbing with the movement. Maybe she liked it? Was that surprise? Her brow lifted. Then she just… mmmd. What did that mean? By the time she finally closed my laptop, my nails were bitten to the base.
I straightened, releasing the twisted sheets in my hands. “So?”
Charlene placed her glasses on the desk. Then a smile broke. “I like it. I mean, it’s not polished, of course, and I’m curious how you’ll wrap it all up, but… it’s a significant improvement.”
A whoosh of breath fled my lungs.
Her smile widened. “It’s different from your competitors. In a good way. A totally different angle to the story. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“Thank you—”
“But I’m also surprised, Nora.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
“You didn’t strike me as the most…” She pursed her lips, looking out the window. “Reliable.”
My heart sank. “I’m so sorry if you got that impression of me.”
She waved my apology away. “I know this is a hard competition, and we ask a lot of you in little time. And I know you’re good.
I mean,” she nodded at my laptop, “there’s proof that you’re truly talented.
And you understand Lew a lot deeper than some of the others.
But—” She leaned forward, like a mom telling her child why they couldn’t go to a birthday party.
“We need more than just a talented writer. This series is an institution with millions of fans. I need the author to be 100% committed. And” —she held up a hand before I could tell her I’d get Lew Elliott’s face tattooed on mine if it meant I would get the job—“I need them to be a team player. I’ve seen little effort from your side to join our meetings or mingle with the others.
Teamwork is an essential part of this deal. ”
My shoulders slumped.
“Look,” Charlene continued, perching her glasses on her head. “I have a meeting with the board next week, and I’m not sure what to tell them about you. I want to recommend you, and your work certainly speaks for itself, but—”
“I’ll show you,” I interrupted her. My voice was louder than expected. I was suddenly breathing hard. “I’ll try harder. I can be a team player.” Words I never thought I’d say.
She patted my hand, then nodded and stood. “I’ll have to go through these for the next few hours and make notes.” She took the laptop with her. “Why don’t you go mingle?”
The afternoon sun was getting lower, and there was a biting chill in the living room when I came down. Noise traveled through open patio doors. I slipped on my boots, pulled my cardigan closer, and followed the walkway around the corner of the house, following the voices.
“Hey, there you are! Why don’t you jump in?
” May said, wearing a bright orange polka-dot swimsuit.
Her arms were stretched over the back of the bubbling, steaming hot tub that currently held two other people.
Jeremy, who wore vintage aviators to combat the slither of sun that had broken through the clouds, and John, who straightened when he saw me.
Oh, hell no.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Too bad,” I said, turning on my heels before anyone could protest.
Yeah, THAT wasn’t going to happen. After seeing a lot more John than I had planned, I would definitely not be sharing a bubble bath with him.
“Merde,” Elaine yelped as I bumped into her.
“Sorry,” I said, taking a step back, nearly losing my footing on the slippery deck. Elaine wore a fluffy white robe, had her blonde curls gathered on top of her head in a bun, and a bottle of champagne in her hand.
“You’re not joining us?” She looked me up and down without a trace of sadness.
“I tend to take my baths alone,” I said, then noticed Charlene as she walked into the room behind Elaine.
Crap.
Elaine tried to step out, but I blocked her. “Actually, I would, but… I don’t have a bathing suit. That is, I didn’t think I needed to bring one.”
“It’s a writing retreat. Of course it has a hot tub.” Elaine shook her head as if this small talk was draining the life out of her.
Me and you both, Elaine.
“Yeah, of course,” I added, glancing sideways at Charlene, who had perched herself on the leather chair behind Elaine. “I had laundry day and forgot.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt all wrong. “You don’t have another one with you, by any chance?”
Elaine sighed, looking longingly past me to where May barked a laugh.
“Fine,” Elaine said, slamming the bottle down with more force than was necessary, then waved at me impatiently. “You are lucky I brought a few for choice.”
Elaine’s room smelled expensive. It was neat. Her bed was made. Dresses hung in actual garment bags. Nothing says "I’m classier than you" better than a garment bag.
She unzipped her Louis Vuitton weekender and tossed two bikinis and one swimsuit on the bed.
I lifted the scrap of fabric on one pinky. Really, it would only cover about that much skin.
“This is lingerie.”
She had packed a bright pink bikini, a black lace… something, and a white one-piece that had so many cutouts it looked like Swiss cheese.
She shrugged, a smile spreading across her face. “I know they are a little… racy. But if you don’t feel comfortable…”
“They’ll do just fine,” I said, giving her my sweetest smile and grabbing the black one. “Thanks.”
Besides wearing my trench coat on top, I felt like I was walking down the stairs stark naked. I had, in the end, tried on all three. Each more revealing than the next. I went with the black two-piece. The one that looked most like me.
The icy wind bit my legs the second I stepped out. I quickly sent a prayer to Bowie himself to end this with a hailstorm right here and now.
A cheer erupted from May as I rounded the corner. “There she is.”
“Thought I may join the fun after all,” I said, my teeth chattering. “If there’s room.”
“Sure.” Jeremy scooted closer to Elaine, who sat between him and John.
I unbuttoned my coat, hopping from one foot to the other. I tried hard not to look at John. Not to look at the curves of his collarbones or the biceps I’d glimpsed that morning.
Bowie, thunder please. Any time now!
“And then I went to study in Oxford,” I heard him say.
Of course he had. Fancy bastard. I slipped my coat off my shoulders.
“When I met my mentor…” He didn’t finish his sentence.
Draping the coat over a nearby chair, I made a point of ignoring his reaction. All their reactions. I knew how I looked. I’d seen what they saw not five minutes ago.
Black lace wound around my breasts. The cups were cut in a balconette style and pushed my girls into their best shape.
The bottom of the two-piece rose high above my hips, then formed a deep V underneath my pierced belly button.
Black vines of roses traveled from my legs underneath the small slip of lace that just about covered places, then up to the tattoo of rose petals between my breasts.
I forced myself to keep my arms relaxed, refraining from the urge to cover the violent red scar on my stomach.
The scar that shaped the centerpiece of my inky rose garden.
I wasn’t embarrassed about it; it was part of me.
Part of my history and a token of one of the worst days of my life.
A scar that ran deeper on the inside than they could imagine.
I just…didn’t want to answer any questions.
“Elaine was so kind as to lend me a suit,” I said, to distract.
Elaine’s face had fallen. As if my presence personally insulted her.
“Well, thank you for that, Elaine.” May whistled, raising her glass and winking at me. “If I woke up tomorrow looking like Miss Nora over there, I’d never wear clothes again.”
“Agreed,” Jeremy said, then clinked his glass with hers.
I bit away a nervous smile.
Elaine just downed her champagne in one go. Then stretched over the side of the pool to refill it, her ass in the air, dangerously close to John, who didn’t seem to notice one bit. But he wasn’t looking at my scar, either. His face was trained on mine.
“How are the hemorrhoids?”
Jeremy snorted so hard, he had bubbles coming out of his nose.
I gave John a pointed look and flipped him off.
He cleared away a smirk and continued his conversation with Jeremy. No comment about the scar, the tattoos, or the tiny black thing that was dreaming of becoming a bathing suit when it grew up.
“Get in before you freeze some of those lovely parts off, Nora,” May said, wriggling to the side and unfortunately ruining my plans to sit between her and Jeremy. Instead, I had to wedge next to—well, you-know-who.
I couldn’t suppress a moan of pleasure as the near-scalding heat kissed my icy toes. Then I submerged myself up to my neck. It was...so bloody good.
“Fucking Jesus Christ in hell.”
Elaine choked on her drink.
“You should rinse your blasphemous mouth.” John bent over the back of the hot tub, rising until his navel was visible and giving me an eyeful of glistening, wet muscles over his stomach, where a small line of hair drifted down below the surface.
I swallowed, pointedly watching snow drift over treetops.
A glass filled to the brim with champagne appeared in front of me.
“Here.”