Shut Up and Model for Me (39 page)

"Hi, Britain."

"Hi, dumbass. You can listen in, as long as you guys, you know, don't interrupt the ed too much with groping or making out or what not."

"Don't worry," says Evan. "We did enough of that today. Had a day off from lab and school work."

Dallas looks as disheveled as Evan does, and he's still wearing his sweats too. I check the time—it's late afternoon where they are. "Lazy, horny bastards."

Evan shrugs, and I sigh. I guess if I was as good looking as Evan and had a steady boyfriend as hot as Dallas, that's exactly what I'd be doing all day too.

I try to push the thought of Jaime out of my head when I see that Andrea and my editor, Beatrice, have logged on. "Behave," I tell Evan and Dallas before adding them to the video chat.

My editor is not what you'd expect an editor out of New York to look like, and I love it. Her hair is short and sticks up everywhere, dyed black with streaks of pink and blue. She has a fat ring through her nose. But since the call is from her office, she's dressed business-like, wearing a fitted button-down blouse. "Well hello, my lovelies! She says, squinting at the screen. "Wow, you guys are pretty hot in real life too. I thought that was just Photoshop doing its magic."

I know she's talking about Evan and Dallas and is probably just trying to butter them up. Of course Evan doesn't buy it. She scoffs. "Us? Please, we look like shit."

Andrea, who's taking a gulp of Diet Coke, nearly spits out her drink, but Beatrice grins. "Let's get to business, shall we?"

"Let’s," I say. "I'm at my parents’ house for two months, and if they catch me in a business call about porn, I'm going to have to explain myself. And I really don't want to do that."

Beatrice scrunches her nose and grits her teeth. "About that."

I can feel my eyes widen. "What?"

"The publisher wants me to quicken the schedule... have at least one storybook written and shot by the end of summer so we can get a move on production. Apparently Amora Acquisitions is coming out with a fat issue
East Park Exposed
, which they've so tactfully shortened to
Exposed
considering it’s not run out of the school anymore. They already have the following of your old fans, and I've gotten the inside word that they plan on using the same format that we are with the storybooks."

My blood is near-boiling. "Fuck A.J. Harrison!" I hiss, forgetting that I'm on a call with my boss. But she doesn't seem to mind. Actually, she looks kind of amused.

A year ago, Amora Acquisitions, a huge erotica company, bought the rights to
East Park Exposed
and planned on making it a national magazine. I idiotically signed the contract thinking that they were going to keep their word about allowing me to stay in charge of overseeing the issues and remain lead photographer. What I didn't know was that A.J. Harrison, CEO of Amora, planned on turning EPE into some raunchy hardcore mag. When I refused to shoot the tasteless penetration he wanted, he fired me. Then Evan quit, and all the other models quit, and Amora Acquisitions was left with nothing other than the rights to EPE.

"Okay, let's think this through logically," Dallas pipes up. I raise an eyebrow at him and he holds up his hand. "Hear me out. We can easily ride off Amora's coattails with a better storybook than their shitty magazine, right? If they shatter the ice for this new kind of... err... porn... we'll get a ton of interest and an influx of fans who've read the
Exposed
issue and want more."

"We're going to be doing that anyway," Beatrice says with a frown. "They're releasing their issue next week."

Andrea winces, and Evan and Dallas start whispering to each other.

Crap. If we want to be successful competition with EPE—now
Exposed
—the magazine that those Amora fucks stole from me, then Beatrice and the publisher are right. We've got to get the ball rolling.

"My studio is in northern Cali, near my old college," I tell Beatrice. "I'm with my parents in Malibu right now."

"You're there for two months," says Evan. "Can't you take a couple of weeks and head back to the studio? We can meet you there and balls-to-the-wall it to get everything done.”

“Pun intended,” says Dallas. Evan elbows his arm.

I grit my teeth. This is one part of my life that Evan doesn't get. No one really does, except for Cam. "My family is incredibly—close. When I make a promise to stay with them, I have to keep it, especially if I don’t have a good excuse as to why I’d be leaving them. They’ve already bought me a countless number of luncheon and benefit dinner tickets for all of their summer rich people activities.”

Evan frowns, and Beatrice raises an eyebrow. "That sounds... incestuous."

I guffaw. "No kidding."

"What are they giving you in return?"

"An inheritance. Since summer
is
benefit dinner and luncheon season, they want Cam and I around to be showcased as gleaming, successful, and supportive children."

"It isn't going to take long for one of your parents’ rich friends, or someone in your community, to figure out what your career really is and spill the beans to your parents," says Evan.

"Yeah, I know." It's a shock my parents don't already know. I mean, my name is all over the internet in connection to EPE. Apparently, they trust me enough to never think to Google me.

"We'll have to find a way to bring the models to you, then," Beatrice says. "Rent a studio for a month somewhere in Malibu. You'll just have to sneak out enough for the shoots. Think you can manage that?"

The thought of my models coming to me in my hometown makes my entire stomach flip upside-down, but I'm not going to argue. Beatrice and the publisher have already done me enough favors. I sigh. "I'll make it work, I guess."

"I'll go ahead and send you some more outlines," Andrea says. Sympathy laces her voice. I study Evan's and Dallas's faces, and they're looking mighty sorry too.

"I'm fine, guys. My parents aren't that bad. They're just freakishly controlling. I'll survive. I'm a big girl."

Beatrice lays out the nitty-gritty. My manager will contact my models and send me a list of the ones who will be able to make it. We need to start shooting in two weeks. By then, I'll have chosen a storyline for Andrea to begin working on, and have several shoot ideas ready to execute.

When I've finally logged out of Skype, I collapse onto my bed. It's stupid, how afraid of my parents I am. What's the worse they could do? Disown me? Pull my inheritance? I don't need the money, but I've always had my family to fall back on.

You're afraid of them finding out the true you.

They only know good, obedient Britain. Chaste Britain. Britain with a guilty conscience. And I've only known the family that has always accepted me.

As strong of a person I believe I am, rocking that boat is scary as all hell.

CHAPTER THREE

On Monday, I try to break as much of the news I can to Mom and Dad. Gladys, the housekeeper, has made finger sandwiches and lemonade and Mom invites me to read and bake out in the sun with her by the pool. When she's relaxed and spending quality time with me is the perfect opportunity to ask for a favor.

I put down my novel, losing my place. I've been flipping the pages and not really reading anyway. "So I have some friends coming into town."

She takes a delicate sip of lemonade and blinks at me.

"They're going to be here for two weeks and I'd really like to spend some quality time with them, so I probably won't be around the house much. I hope that's okay.”

Mom frowns and slides her big sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. "Friends? From school?"

I nod. "Most of them graduated last year though, so I haven't seen them in a while."

"Where are they staying?"

I shrug. "Some hotel."

"Are they, well, good people?"

I press my lips together. Mom and Dad both use that phase more often than not.
Good people
. Like there is some universal rule and everyone is innately aware of who is a good person and who is a bad person. My parents consider good people to be modest and polite and respectful... virtuous, I guess. I think of Jaime and how much my mother disapproved of him over the years. Jaime might have been Cam's best friend, but he was definitely not a
good person
.

"Good people," I say. I think of Evan and how she's an actress at heart. She's like me, putting on a role for the people around her so she's to be accepted. "You know Evan, right? I mean, you haven't met her, but I talk about her—”

"All the time," my mother finishes with a grin. "You talk about her all the time. I'd love to meet her!"

Well, if this is what it takes to be able to shoot erotica without my parents getting in the way. "Of course you can. Maybe we can all go out to lunch one day."

Mom waves her hand in front of her face dismissively. "Oh don't be silly. They'll all stay here, of course."

My jaw threatens to fall open, and all I want to do is mutter a string of expletives, but Mom hasn't ever heard me even use the word "fuck" before. "I don't know if that would be such a good idea. I mean, I don't know exactly who's coming yet. It'll probably be like, ten people."

"Ten
good
people."

"Still, Mom, I—”

"Be gracious to your friends!" Mom cries. "We have the space, don't we? And these rooms are nicer than any hotel. Plus, I'd love to meet all of the people you spend your time with." Mom waves her hand toward Gladys, who's wiping down the patio furniture at the other end of the pool. "Gladys! Grab my husband, will you?"

Gladys disappears into the house and returns with Dad and Cam, who are both in their swim trunks. As Cam dives into the pool, Mom quickly explains to Dad the situation with my
friends
, and how she wants them all to stay here.

"It's really okay," I say quickly, silently praying that Dad will see some absurdity in housing all of my
friends
for two weeks.

"Nonsense." Dad reaches toward me and grabs the straw sun hat off my head, placing it on his own.

"You look ridiculous, Dad.”

"I'm a ridiculous man." He grins before returning to the conversation. "Of course we can host your friends for two weeks. Throw a couple of pool parties, make you kids some cocktails." He winks at me like he's doing me a favor, like I'm fifteen and not twenty-two and a cocktail is some naughty, delectable treat. "Don't look so distraught, Brit. Your friends will love us."

"Friends?" Cam says from the pool. Water drips down his face. "What friends?"

"We're going to host Britain's friends for a couple of weeks," Mom says cheerfully.

I swallow the painful lump in my throat, and Cam raises an eyebrow. "Are these friends incredibly attractive?"

I'm sure Mom and Dad are thinking that Cam is just being Cam, asking if the friends that will be over at the house are hot—maybe nice to look at when they’re in bikinis—but I know what he's really asking. Cam knows my secret. He's asking if these friends are models.

Mom tssks. "Don't be a pig, Cameron."

"Incredibly attractive," I say, keeping my eyes glued to my older brother.

"Oh, dear," he says slowly. I kind of want to punch the smirk off his face.

When I finally manage to creep away from the pool, I run up to my room and call Evan, telling her everything.

"Wow," she finally says. "So your parents are insisting to house a bunch of porn stars without even knowing it, huh?"

"This is a nightmare, Evan. A fucking nightmare." I groan and slide down the wall. "My parents are modest, conservative, and pretty much from the 1950s. If they found out what I did for a living, I'd lose... I'd lose..."

"What?" she asks. "What exactly would you lose?"

"My inheritance. Their respect."

"Think of it this way," Evan says. "Take it from a girl who spent a solid chunk of her college years trying to hide who she was. Your first mistake was not changing your name for the magazine. I've Googled you. You pop up all over the Internet. Your dad is in software, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"He's not computer illiterate. They know, Brit. They have to know, whether they've told you or not."

I mull over Evan's words slowly. She's right. I'm in denial if I think that just because I've been a good daughter, my parents haven't Googled me.

"I haven't met your parents," she continues, “so I don't exactly know the relationship you have with them. But I know you. You love your work. Don't be ashamed of yourself just because you're afraid of Mommy and Daddy. Let's have a kickass summer, Brit! I get to see you in two weeks. Who cares if we're all staying at your parents?"

I grin. She's right. "Okay, okay. You may be right, but for the sake of my sanity, I really hope the publisher covers the cost of decent location housing for you guys so all of you don't have to crash at Mommy's and Daddy's."

When I'm off the phone with Evan, I shoot an email to Beatrice and get her caught up on the situation. I change into leggings, a tank top, and tennis shoes, hoping a run will clear my head, and head for downstairs when floating voices on the second floor stop me in my tracks. Cam and Dad. They’re in Dad's office.

"You can't be serious," Cameron says. "He stole from us!"

He sounds pissed. I don't think I've ever heard Cameron speak to Dad that way. Dad has never let him get away with that tone of voice.

But when Dad responds, he doesn't scold Cam. In fact, he's gentle with him. "We don't know that, son. There was never any evidence proving Jaime was the one who took the fifty grand. It wasn't in his accounts. There wasn't even a paper trail."

I hold my breath and freeze in the hall, listening closely.

Dad sighs. "I let anger cloud my judgment when the money went missing. Firing Jaime felt just and right. It felt like I was doing something to fix the situation, even if it meant that I couldn't find that money. But Britain's right. Jaime doesn't even want his job back. He only wants to make amends with our family. And I think that's honorable."

"Unless he's playing you," Cam says. "Unless he's trying to weasel his way back into the family to... I don't know... steal again."