Raw Deal (Beauty for Ashes: Book One) (20 page)

“Like?”

“Lying, gossiping, anything that’s not right.”

Oh, yeah, well I knew that. Personally, I didn’t think those things could be sins, because everybody did them. We were human.

“So what about us on Christmas Eve? Was that okay, or was that a sin?” I asked with a sweet smile.

Jace’s expression closed.

“I know we didn’t do
it,
but we did a whole lot of other stuff.” I was being obnoxious, and I knew it. But like they said, attack was sometimes the best form of defense. “So are you going to get payback in hell?”

“Not anymore now that I accepted Jesus,” he mumbled.

“So it’s only me that’ll get payback in hell? That’s not fair, because it wasn’t even my idea.” Okay, I knew I wasn’t helping matters, but Jace deserved it for telling me I was going to hell. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

Jace stood up. He couldn’t look at me.

“What? I’m not gonna jump you, Jace. I respect your beliefs and the fact that you can’t do certain things anymore. Honestly, if we got back together, I wouldn’t make you do anything you’re not allowed to do.” Looking at Jace right now, I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to get back with him. The religion thing was a huge turn off.

“Um, bye, Lexi.” Jace left my kitchen like he was being chased, and moments later I heard the front door slam.

I called Monica and told her what had happened. It was final. Jace and I were over.

“Don’t worry,” Monica said. “I have a totally awesome plan, which we are going to execute on Wednesday at the basketball game. I’ll fill you in tomorrow, because my mom’s here.”

I looked at the oven clock. My mom wouldn’t get home for another three hours.

“What are you going to do for the rest of the evening?” Monica asked.

“I’m going to trash my bedroom and destroy everything Jace ever bought me,” I said dolefully. Maybe I’d keep the GPS though.

“That bad, huh? Maybe I should bring you some of my antidepressants.”

Chapter 23

I felt surprisingly calm on Tuesday. I’d worked out that Jace dumping me had only felt so horrific because I was missing my dad and already felt lonely. Jace was cool, but a two-week relationship was hardly something to get upset about.

As I left school at eleven, I decided that I was just going to forget it all. And to prove that I was well and truly over the whole thing, I’d brought the GPS Jace had given me for Christmas. My dashboard clock said I had thirty minutes to get to my photoshoot. I didn’t know where it was, and that could have been cause for panic and manic driving. However, I got to my desired location easily, all thanks to GPS.

When the client saw me, he almost lost his marbles. “What is going on?” he shrieked in a tone that no man should be allowed, or be able, to use. He glared at his assistant. “We were expecting a blond! Where is Maria? I told her I wanted a blond.”

“You can dye my hair,” I offered. I knew my agency didn’t want to market me as anything other than a sultry brunette, but who cared? I could always get it dyed back. If Poko Pano thought it would take a blond to advertise their bikinis, then I would be that blond.

Mr. Drama Queen eyed me critically for a moment. “That might just work,” he said slowly. He led me over to the hair stylist. “Dye her hair blond.” He pointed at the makeup artist, “You! Work with her complexion.”

I understood what he was saying. My skin was too dark. If I were the offense-taking type, I could have been offended, but the truth was that I’d had millions of much worse and very derogatory comments passed about me in my years as a model. You either cried over each comment, or you developed thick skin. I chose the latter.

There were two other models, both dark-haired. They were already chatting to each other, and I didn’t bother trying to join in. I needed my space today.

When the stylists were done, I looked in the mirror. My scalp was on fire, but I liked it.

I sat on my own at the back of the bus as we were driven to the beach. When we arrived, I followed the other two models out to the set.

As the day wore on, it became increasingly difficult to stay amiable. First of all, we had to wait around a bit because the wardrobe people were late. Then, the photographer didn’t like the lighting and made us wait an additional twenty minutes, as if once it struck two p.m. the sun would suddenly give him the kind of light he wanted. By the time we started getting photographed, I was ready to walk out and go home. Of course, I couldn’t let that show.

The photoshoot was one of the hardest I’d ever done. It was quite cold, and we were wearing skimpy swimsuits and bikinis. Naturally, we were shivering, not to mention that we were by the sea. To cap off my misery, we had to act like it was summer vacation, and we were having a great time on the beach. Then, the photographer wanted individual shots. Additionally, he wanted strange poses, and he was also extremely rude with the way he told us what to do. I switched into professional mode, which meant I shut off and just did it. My mind was empty of Jace, empty of questions about religion and God, and almost empty of even my dad. I was glad when it was over.

Monica was in my bedroom when I got home, watching my TV, and sprawled out on my bed like it was hers. She was eating my marshmallows—which, I might add, I hid at the bottom of my third closet, so how did she even find them?

“Girrrlfriend!” she exclaimed when she saw me.

I struck a pose.

“There’s nothing like a makeover to make a girl feel better after a break up!” She pulled me over to the mirror and held a handful of my hair against her face to see what she would look like blond.

“They were expecting a blond at the shoot, so I let them dye it.” I parted a section of my hair to see if my scalp was red. “It was agony. I felt like my head was on fire.”

“Well, you look great, and I’m so jealous.”

I twirled around my room, letting my hair float around me. I realized that this new hair color would need a lot of maintenance. I couldn’t just rock up to school each morning like I usually did. When your hair was dark, it didn’t matter if it was curly, straight, or a ‘fro straight out of the seventies. But blond hair had to be either straight or curly. I had seen blond ‘fros, and they were a paradox.

“It was a swimsuit shoot,” I told Monica. “I wore a couple bikinis, too. I hope my mom doesn’t find out.”

Monica tutted. “You’re such a rebel.”

“But I’ve done swimsuits on the runway before, and she’s cool with that. I don’t see what the big deal is about doing them in a photoshoot.” I took a handful of marshmallows and stuffed them into my mouth. I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.

“Right, Lexi,” Monica said, rubbing her hands together gleefully. The action reminded me of an evil enemy in a kids’ cartoon that wanted to take over the world. “I have a plan for how you’re going to get Jace back.”

“I’ve let it go, Monica.”

“I thought you were crazy about Jace.”

“The key word being ‘were’.”

“Oh. Well, never mind then.” Monica returned to her sprawled position on my bed and started on my marshmallows again.

“What was the plan though? You can still share it with me.” I plopped down beside her on the bed. “Are you thinking I should do a Michelle and pretend to get saved?”

“That was Plan B.”

“What’s Plan A?”

Monica smiled mischievously. “What is the one thing that no guy can resist?”

“Dunno.”

“Come on, think.”

“Cars?” Wrong answer, Monica was shaking her head. “Video games?” Still the wrong answer. “I know, food?” Monica’s head was still shaking. “But they say you get to their heart through their belly.”

“It’s sex, you moron.”

I laughed. “Oh, yeah! So what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that you can make Jace an offer he can’t resist, and he’s all yours again. Tomorrow, after the basketball game tell him when and where to meet you. He will be there.”

I collapsed with laughter, trying to imagine myself sashaying over to Jace and luring him to a bedroom. The visual image in my mind’s eye didn’t even seem right. This was not some bad romantic movie. This was real life, and my heart was at stake here. “Monica, I’m not Carlene, okay? I’m not going to do that. And Jace is a Christian now, remember?”

“Jace is a red blooded male, as you can testify having spent a night of sin with him already.”

I reddened.

“He’s eighteen, and his hormones are raging, Lexi, whether he’s saved or not. He will so give in.”

I considered the plan. Would I stoop that low to win Jace back? Who was I kidding? Of course, I would. Even if it was just so that
I
could do the dumping this time.

I gave myself a mental shake. What was happening to me? I was becoming a predator, driven by lust and revenge.

“So, are you game?” Monica asked.

“You know I’m game, but only so that I can dump him afterwards.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Monica took a piece of paper out of the pocket of her snugly fitting jeans. “I’ve booked a room at the Hilton. This is the booking confirmation. Just hand it to him, wait till he gets it, and then tell him what time to meet you in the lobby.”

We both looked at each other for a moment. Then we burst into laughter. This was hilarious. I took the confirmation from Monica. “How much did it cost?”

“Well, it’s booked for tonight, tomorrow, and Thursday morning, so you can imagine how much it must have cost.” She fanned herself with her hand. “I’m a good friend. I know.”

“What if I’d said no?”

“I knew you’d say yes. You’d do anything to get Jace back, you poor thing.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t kill or anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m not crazy.”

“Good.” Monica pulled a small white box out of her purse. “I brought you a little something in case you get depressed.”

“I don’t need your medication, Monica. By the way, are you sure Jace will be at the game?”

“Of course, he’s playing.”

“What if he’s quit basketball.”

“No, Christians play hoops. I’ve heard some NBA players talk about Jesus and stuff.” Monica jumped up. “Let’s rehearse. Show me how you’re going to play Jace tomorrow.” I wondered where the girl got her energy from sometimes. She was a delightful jumping, squealing, shopping concoction.

We giggled as Monica pretended to be Jace, and I stepped to her all seductive and pouting. She had Jace’s walk spot on.

Monica thought she was helping me get Jace back, but I was seeing it more as a way to get my own back. I was going to capture Jace, and when it was over,
I
would tell
him
it was over. This time, I would do the dumping. And he would do the ‘suck it up, don’t fall apart, just cope’ routine. Who knew how many girls had gone through that because of him? This revenge was for every single one of them, too. And it would be sweet.

***

I lingered at my locker for longer than necessary, looking out for Jace. The bell had rung precisely two minutes ago, and the corridor was emptying. Where was he?

Eventually, he came around the corner; alone, too. The gods were definitely on my side today. He almost stopped dead when he saw me. I smiled inwardly when he came over. I was rummaging around in my locker, just so I looked like I was doing something other than just waiting for him to show.

“Wow, Lexi!”

I looked up at him. “Hey, Jace.” I gave him a deliberately shy smile and shook my hair back.

“You look gorgeous,” he breathed, then he looked at my locker uncomfortably. “I don’t think I saw you at all yesterday. Were you in school?”

“Only in the morning. I had a photoshoot.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s good. I thought you might be upset or something.” Jace’s eyes were still on my locker.

“Upset about what?” I looked at my locker, too. There was nothing that fascinating about it.

“I’m avoiding eye contact,” Jace said. He grinned.

“Why are you avoiding eye contact?”

Jace gave me a quick look. “I’m sure I have somewhere to be right now.” He turned on his heel. “Gotta go. See you around,” he tossed over his shoulder.

I saw him again at lunchtime. He was getting something out of Tanya’s locker. It looked like a Bible. I almost groaned at the sight of it. He glanced at me briefly. “Are you coming to the game tonight?”

“Yeah. I want to see if everything I hear about your skills are true.”

Jace gave me a cocky smile. “You won’t be disappointed. See you later.”

I joined the girls in the cafeteria. Sandy scooted over so that I could sit down.

“I like your hair,” Michelle commented after looking me over. “You were a knockout before; now, you’re simply out of this world.”

“Why thank you, Michelle. Religion has made you a very sweet person.” We still didn’t know whether Michelle was for real or not, but I knew that the old Michelle would probably have snuck up on me with a razor and shaved my head so that I couldn’t look as good as her.