Chapter 10
Ten
Lou
“Love looks through a telescope; envy through a microscope.”
Josh Billings
It’s bingo night at The Wave Break. As soon as we walk in, we’re both handed a few cards and something called a dobber.
“The first three are free, sweeties. If you want more, Joanne, here, will take care of you,” an elderly woman, whose hair is meticulously styled in the same flip up I bet she’s worn since the sixties, tells us.
Joanne sits at a folding card table with a little sign that reads “BINGO cards $5 each, all proceeds benefit Stowaway HomeAway.”
“What is Stowaway HomeAway?” I ask her.
“That’s the assisted living facility, honey,” the woman answers with lips perfectly painted red.
I don’t know who these two women are, but I hope to look as fabulous as them when I’m their age.
“I’ll take five, please,” I say.
“Me, too,” Juliet adds. From there, we find a table set in the back corner of the bar that is just big enough for the two of us to spread out our cards. “Vodka soda with lime?”
“Yes, please,” I say with a smile. It’s basically what every model drinks, since it’s low in calories.
“Be right back,” she says, then weaves through the crowd toward the bar.
Eighties music plays loudly through the speakers.
A few couples dance in the area that’s designated as the dance floor.
A few women standing nearby sing along to lyrics about a runaway.
Though the environment is dim, the mood is light.
Happy and friendly. I scan the crowd and don’t see a single frown.
Sam stands at the bar, a stack of bingo cards in his hand instead of a drink.
Beside him is Grady, casually leaning against the dark wood.
He looks good. Not different from any other time I’ve seen him.
He’s still dressed casually in jeans, a tee, with a light flannel unbuttoned.
Maybe his hair is neater than I’ve seen before.
I’m not sure. But I like what I see. A bartender sets a beer in front of him, leaning over just enough for her ample cleavage to be noticed. Notice he does, as indicated by the appreciation shown on his face.
For a quick second, I feel slighted. Jealous or overlooked. All of which is completely stupid. I hardly know the man, and I’m freshly out of a horrible relationship. I’m in no position to be interested in a man.
It could be that I’m envious of her, though. My cup size is a solid B and the bartender sending Grady flirtatious looks is at least a D. You always want the things you can’t have, and for so long, I thought I wanted bigger breasts.
When I first started in the industry, I dreamed of Victoria’s Secret runway shows that I don’t have the curves for. Lean and lanky has served me well in my career, but I’ve been reminded too many times that I don’t have a womanly body.
Pierre would say I was lucky he loved me because no real man would be attracted to me otherwise.
It’s been a long time since a man has looked at me with lust. With want and yearning. With possessiveness that leans deep into the protective zone instead of ownership. How long has it been since a man looked at me with something other than dollar signs or disdain in their eyes?
I can’t say. Or I haven’t noticed. To be fair, I’ve been careful around other men, not making too much eye contact or being too touchy and friendly. If there had been looks, I’m not certain I’d have recognized them.
“She’s too much,” Juliet says, setting our drinks down in the only clear spots left around the bingo cards.
“Who?”
“The bartender,” she says with a heavy eye roll. “January. She’s had a crush on Grady forever, now, which yeah, okay, whatever. But she’s so obvious about it. It grosses me out since he’s basically a family member.”
“You sound jealous,” I tease, though I’m accusing myself too.
“Gross. He’s the last man I could be attracted to. I am fiercely protective of him, though,” she says, looking back over her shoulder at the bar. “I don’t like them together, and I don’t trust her. It’s just a vibe, you know?”
“Have you told him that? I only ask because I wish someone would have…I probably wouldn’t have listened. But I’d at least know someone had been trying to look out for me.”
“No.” She slumps down in the chair. “I assumed I should stay out of it, but you have me second-guessing that.”
“Knowing you, you could find a sly, tactful way to bring up whatever your concern is.”
“Tactful.” She snorts.
“You can be!”
“At work, sure. Only because I have to be.”
Sam taps a microphone, getting everyone’s attention.
“All right, you all know how this goes, but I’ll explain it for Lou since it’s her first time,” he says, sending me a wink.
I didn’t even know he’d noticed me over here, but I stand and give the room a curtsey.
“And for Jules, who has been in the city so long she’s probably forgotten everything she learned here. ”
“Hey, I still know my numbers,” she hollers back at him.
“You need to know letters, too, sweetheart,” he chimes back.
“I know the letters F and U.” She flips him off, and the bar erupts in laughter.
While Sam explains the game and announces the prizes, all of which are donated by local businesses, things like free smoothies and flower arrangements, Grady drags a chair from another table and sidles in between Juliet and me.
“Where are your cards?”
“I never play. I just donate some money or my time,” he tells me.
“That’s sweet of you.”
“Gives me something to do,” he says, shrugging off the compliment.
“You could use a hobby,” Juliet tells him.
“I have hobbies.”
“Beating a punching bag and your meat are not hobbies.”
“Sure, they are,” he tells her, sending me a sly grin.
It makes me blush, like I’m a girl with a crush. Which, I guess I sort of am. He must notice because his smile widens.
“How long have you two been friends? You seem like opposites. Lou is nice and sweet, and you’re a hag.”
“You’re an asshole,” she tells him, pushing his shoulder.
“Luke wanted a new face for his collection in two-thousand-twenty. Lou was making waves in high-fashion but hadn’t done much avant-garde.
He had a vision, though, and she was it.
So, I courted the fuck out of her, and we ended up becoming fast friends,” Juliet explains.
“She didn’t give me much choice,” I say, laughing.
“She never does.”
“I get what I want,” she says, smugly.
“She was crafty enough to figure out my entire schedule on a work trip to Paris. Every event I went to, there was Juliet. By the fourth one, I was looking forward to seeing her, as she was one of the few real people in the room.”
“Even though I wear my plastic smile so well,” she says, displaying it for us both.
“That’s fucking creepy,” Grady tells her just before the first ball is called.
“Oh shit, I don’t even know how to use this thing.” I pop the top off the tube of ink, looking around at other tables to see how they dab it on their cards, then search my cards for B14. Only one card has it. I bounce in my seat with excitement. “This is fun!”
I plop it down atop the number, marking it with a messy blue circle.
“You’ve never played before?” Grady asks.
I shake my head, a few strands that have escaped my claw clip flying in my face. “There was a community center where I grew up that had it a few times a year. But I never went.”
“In Arkansas?”
“Yeah, have you ever been?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“N32,” Sam calls.
This time, I find it on three cards, and I throw my arms up in excitement.
“You’re not missing anything. It’s all Walmart and raccoon skins,” I say.
“What did you do for fun?”
“I was a bookworm. We lived within walking distance of the library, so that’s where I spent most of my free time.”
“What do your parents do for a living?”
“My dad is a mechanic, my mom is a pharmacy technician,” I say. “My childhood was as humble and blue collar as it gets.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he says. “How did you end up modeling?”
“I posted a picture from high school graduation, sporting my sky-blue cap and gown. It was hideous. An agency scout happened to see it. They can be predatory. I wouldn’t be shocked if they creeped graduation hashtags,” I say.
“Anyway, I got a DM. Since I didn’t have prospects outside of local community college, I took a shot that it was legit. ”
“O66.”
I furiously scan my cards, finding the match twice. The prizes don’t matter to me; I just want to win. I need a win.
“You ever seen a tornado?”
“Jesus, is this some kind of twenty-questions,” Juliet says under her breath.
“Do you mind?” Grady taps his knee against mine under the table. I don’t flinch away. “I can stop. I’m only curious.”
“I don’t mind,” I answer. Secretly, I like his attention. Trusting the attention is a different story. “Yes, I’ve seen some smaller ones. There was an F3 where we lived when I was real young, but I don’t remember it.”
“Do you have storm cellars? Like in the movies,” Juliet asks.
“We did. The house I grew up in was an old farmhouse that’s been in my dad’s family forever. The cellar always freaked me out, though. One hundred years’ worth of spider webs lived down there.”
“B6.”
“That card is looking good,” Grady says, pointing to the card of mine with the most dabs. “You don’t do spiders, huh?”
“I don’t do bugs, rodents, anything creepy-crawly,” I say with a feigned shiver. “There were always mice in the house growing up. I don’t think I got a solid night sleep my whole childhood. I’d wake up at every tiny noise thinking it was a mouse climbing up my bedpost.”
“I don’t think they’re loud enough to wake you up,” he says like it’s a secret.
“Thanks for that. Now, I’m never going to sleep again,” I joke. “Are there mice in Irma’s house?”
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Juliet answers. “Lots of spiders, though.”
“Fuck my life.”
“I’ll catch them while I’m here,” she says. “After that, you’re on your own.”
“Are they big?” Both cringe when I ask the question. “Shit. How big?”
Grady widens his thumb and pointer finger to indicate. I must go pale, because they both laugh.
“Call me, if you need help,” he tells me. “Rescuing cats out of trees and spiders out of showers is kind of part of the job.”
“G50.”
Talk turns to stories of encounters with tiny-legged creatures.
Juliet woke up once with something called a stink bug crawling on her face.
I tell them about the time I was on a shoot at a Napa vineyard, and my hotel room had a mouse.
I had to call the front desk in complete panic until they sent someone up to help me pack my stuff and take me to a room on a higher floor.
I hate vineyards, now.
Grady once had a standoff with a mama possum who was hiding her babies in a five-gallon bucket he had sitting in his backyard.
“I did have a photoshoot with snakes, once. They kept a bucket nearby because I kept having to take vomit breaks. My anxiety was through the roof.”
“And you still came out with a good shot?”
“She’s that good,” Juliet says.
“Do you want to see? I’m sure I can find them online,” I say, pulling my phone from my back pocket. My old phone had albums with all my photos in them. That phone will probably never be seen again.
“I’d love to. I’m not scared of snakes, but I’m not sure I could look relaxed with one.
” He scoots his chair a couple of inches closer to me.
Close enough that his sleeve brushes mine.
His heat hovers around the constant chill I can’t seem to shake.
It’s penetrating. Grady is comfort. I’ve seen it with Paige and Juliet.
I feel it when I’m around him. And I wonder if he’s like that for everyone.
Is it just who he is? Or is it a product of his profession?
“G46,” Sam calls out.
I find the pictures online and hand him my phone while I revert to the paper cards in front of me. Juliet asks me to keep an eye on her cards for her while she runs for refills.
“These are…you’re fucking gorgeous, Lou. These are art.”
“Thank you.” The heat rises on my cheeks again. A foreign feeling. My days working are filled with such praise, I can’t understand why it’s different coming from him.
“How did you even get your body to do this?” He holds my phone where I can see the photo of me in an exaggerated pose.
“With practice and a great photographer.”
“Amazing.” The word is pillowed with awe, sending more strange sensations through me. “This one should be in a museum or something.”
“I21.”
I scan and dab before I look back at my phone.
It’s a picture from a different shoot, not the one with the albino boa.
Only now, do I realize I handed him my phone with my full name in the search bar.
A tightness in my chest makes me grab my drink, sucking whatever melted ice there is at the bottom of the glass.
The picture was taken by Pierre. Nothing on the screen indicates that. Grady wouldn’t know.
It’s me in a black gown that covers me from toe to neck, with long, oversized puffed up sleeves.
Under the dress, unseen, my legs are stretched as far I could manage, standing on my tippy toes as we tried to portray the idea that I was about to float away.
My hair was slicked back with a shiny oily paste and allowed to artfully drip down my face.
“It’s beautiful in its simplicity,” I say, swallowing hard.
The shoot was amazing. What happened after wasn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Grady’s hand gently rubs my shoulder. Whatever it is about him, it makes me want to tell him. He makes me feel safe enough to.
“There was another model on that shoot. The collection had every design in both black and white. I wore all black, she wore all white. Symbiotic, the designer called it. Anyway, the photographer was my boyfriend,” I say, then pause.
“Ex-boyfriend. When we were done and I went to wash the paste out of my hair, he went to the other dressing room to fuck her. I walked in on it, confirming suspicions I’d had for months. ”
“Jesus, Lou, I’m sorry. How did he react?”
“He didn’t stop, and I didn’t try to stop them,” I say, ashamed of myself. “The look on his face said it all. You’ll let me do this and still go home with me. He was right.”
“It’s not that simple, though,” he says with understanding.
“It never is.”