Accidentally on Purpose 6 Book Box Set

by L. D. Davis

  I frowned.

  “I don’t want to do commercial modeling,” I said. “I want to do high fashion.”

  He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Stand up.”

  “What?”

  “Stand up. Up!” He raised his hands impatiently.

  I passed my mom the portfolio and stood up.

  “Stand over there,” he waved with his hand. I walked to the general place he waved to. “Spin around—slowly!”

  Sucking in a breath so that I wouldn’t snap at him again, I spun in a slow circle.

  “You’ve aged since I last saw you,” he said bitterly.

  “What? That was only the beginning of summer!”

  “You’re a child,” he said. “Children grow.”

  Well, duh, I thought, but remained silent and waited for him to speak again.

  “Okay, sit down,” he said with another sigh.

  “So, can you work with her, or not?” my mom asked as I took my seat beside her.

  “She got old, but yeah. I can work with her.”

  So, my old butt sat there, expecting him to give me clients to see and what I got was an appointment with a test photographer. The test photographer basically did the same things Tori did, but I didn’t argue. I guess I passed the ‘test’ because Max was really happy with my new portfolio.

  Again, I thought the phone would be ringing off of the hook, but after weeks of getting tutored at home for nothing and missing everything going on in school with my friends, I got pissed off enough to venture into New York by myself. I told Emmy where I was going, but I didn’t tell my mom or my other parents. I stormed into Max’s office—well…I tried to storm into Max’s office, but I was stopped first by security that had to call up to the agency to let them know I was there. Then I got stopped by the main receptionist, and again by Max’s secretary. Finally, when I was able to storm into his office, I was exhausted.

  “You told me I was exquisite!” I said, slamming my palms onto his desk. “You said I had potential!”

  He looked up at me, not at all fazed by my tantrum.

  “Yeah, you are, and you do,” he said casually and looked back to his computer.

  “Then why am I still sitting in Jersey staring at the walls?” I demanded.

  He looked me up and down. He actually stood up, leaned in close to me and dropped his eyes to my feet on the floor. I was confused, but said nothing, nor did I back away from him.

  “It looks like you’re standing in my office in New York City, Donya, not sitting in New Jersey.”

  I wanted to punch him, but I kept my cool and met his eyes, only inches from mine.

  “Max,” I said his name sweetly. “If you’re waiting for me to kiss your ass to get me some work, you will be waiting a very long time.”

  “You have balls to come into my office and talk to me like that. I am the man who can make or break you.”

  A corner of my mouth pulled up into a soft smirk. “Max, I am shattered inside. If you think you can break me any more than that, I welcome you to try.”

  His eyes narrowed and discriminated. Then he sighed and sat back down in his chair.

  “I think I have the perfect client to send you to.”

  *~*~*

  “Did you brush your hair?” my mom asked me, as she got into her bed.

  “One hundred strokes,” I murmured as I flipped through an issue of Vogue.

  “Did you moisturize?”

  “All greased up,” I replied automatically.

  “How do your nails look?”

  I dropped the magazine on my lap and sighed as I looked over at her. I was glad she was with me. I was glad she wasn’t only with me, but truly trying to be a loving mother, but she was driving me bat-shit crazy.

  “Mom, my nails look as good as they’re going to get. I’m going to sleep in a few minutes so I won’t wake up with red eyes, okay? Everything will be fine.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” She sighed and nodded again. “Okay.”

  She pulled back the blanket and bedspread and got into bed. I went back to reading my magazine even though I could feel her eyes on me.

  “What?” I finally said, dropping the magazine again.

  “I’m really proud of you,” she said softly.

  I snorted. “Mom, I haven’t done anything yet,” I said bitterly.

  I had been on several casting calls and had actually had a few call backs and landed some decent gigs. We had been at it for months. My mother quit her job as a waitress to travel with me. It made way more sense than the Grayne’s hiring some stranger to chaperone me or having someone from Max’s company glued to my hip. I didn’t think my mom wanted the task, especially after the cruel things she had said to me the day I returned from Louisiana, but she surprised me. She surprised all of us.

  She drove me to Emmy’s one day, and we all sat around the table discussing and planning. She didn’t want the Grayne’s to have to pay for everything, but they came to some kind of agreement I wasn’t privy to because I was sent out of the room. That made no sense to me since it was about me.

  “You’re trying really hard,” she said to me in the hotel room, months after we started on this venture. “When someone tells you you’re too skinny, too fat, too short, too tall, too old or too young, or too dark, you shrug it off and move on to the next one.”

  What I didn’t tell her, was that when someone called me too fat, I surreptitiously skipped meals. When someone said I was too skinny, I ate a candy bar. When I was looked at with disgust or boredom, I waited until I was in the shower that night to cry about it. I didn’t tell her any of that. I simply shrugged and said, “Someone will eventually think I’m just right.”

  *~*~*

  Work was trickling in. Some of it was behind the scenes stuff, like being a human mannequin for designers. I had several photo shoots for various publications, and a couple of them were with influential designers for ads that ran in Vogue and Vanity Fair.

  I wasn’t what I’d call a model in demand, but I didn’t complain. I was gaining experience and learning about the business. I was also learning patience and restraint because many of the girls I encountered in the industry were straight up bitches. I didn’t get into any physical altercations, but I quickly had to let a few of them know that this Jersey girl wasn’t really down for any catty shit.

  “I will beat your ass and ground my Blahnik into your skull as I step on you to continue to the next gig,” I had told Inga, one of the girls I repeatedly had to work with.

  Between working, looking for work, and my schooling, my contact with Emmy and the family began to slip. For the most part, it couldn’t be helped, but admittedly I avoided the holidays. I didn’t want to have to face Emmet, not yet. In the late winter, however, I wanted to spend some time with the family. Though I had been home several times over the months, I had never stayed more than a couple of days because I was sucking up every little bit of work I could get. I was ready for some comforts of home. I needed Emmy and her undying friendship. I needed Sam and her craziness. I needed Fred and his warm fatherly ways. I needed to sleep in my room at the Grayne’s that used to be Lucy’s.

  The other things that I needed were sadly unattainable and several hours north of home.

  I also thought my mom needed a rest. She had been traipsing all over New York with me, and we had taken two trips to L.A. She was looking more and more worn down and tired. All of the activity was apparently draining her more than I would have expected. My mom wasn’t old, she was only in her late thirties, but she laughed about her aches and pains more than any older person I knew. She tried to joke about it and claim it was her old age kicking in, along with years of inactivity, but I suspected there was more. I could not for the life of me figure out what that may have been.

  She kept chugging along without much complaint, though, and she was so different from the person she was a year before, I didn’t complain either.

  Another reason I needed to be home was because Emmy neede
d me. A lot was going on in her life. She admitted to me one night in the late fall that she had been getting high with Tack and Mayson on a regular basis. I chastised her, and she promised it wasn’t a problem. By the time New Year’s had passed by, the three of them were doing heavier stuff than weed though Emmy never clarified what. She was, in essence, their supplier, because she had significantly more funds than her cousins, but Emmy started to hate the way the drugs made her feel.

  “I hate needing it,” she had cried on the phone. “Mayson and Tack are getting really bad. Tack’s failing all of his college courses and Mayson is making really, really bad decisions. She’s dating this guy…my god, he’s awful, Donya. He keeps her high and I think when she’s bothering to eat, she’s doing the finger throat thing because he likes her thinner. He’s called her a fat pig in front of everyone and instead of punching him in the face as she should, she promises to do better. What the hell!” she screamed in frustration.

  I wanted to ask so many questions, but I had to let her finish with her tearful rant and confessions.

  “She’s getting violent. She hit her mom a few times recently, and she slapped Tabby when she called her a junkie. Oh, my god, everyone is unraveling. I don’t want to unravel. I don’t want to be a junkie. I did this shit because it was fun, but it’s not fun anymore.”

  I turned down a few jobs to go home to my friend the following week. The modeling world would still be there when I returned.

  As I made the usual walk from my mother’s house to my other home, I considered how brave Emmy had been to go to her parents and tell them about her problem. I didn’t agree with her keeping Mayson’s and Tack’s problems a secret, but it took a lot of strength for her to go to her parents. Fred and Sam being the awesome parents they are immediately put her in an outpatient program. They didn’t yell at her, they didn’t tell her how disappointed they were, they just did what needed to be done.

  I walked through the door at the Grayne’s and gave myself a moment to feel the rush of memories soar through my mind. I had so many, from jumping on the antique couch as a child and getting my ass handed to me by Sam, to the chaos of a house full of kids when all of the older siblings were still home. I thought about the scraped knees and elbows that were bandaged under that roof, the excellent meals Sam provided, and Fred’s kindness. I also thought about how the whole family stood in the foyer waiting for me when my dad died, Emmet’s arms around me comforting me, and Emmet’s arms around me in his bed, and the days that we spent without parental supervision.

  Without meaning to, my eyes drifted to the top of the stairs in the direction of his bedroom. I hadn’t been in there since the previous summer. I hadn’t seen him since the night I uttered those cruel words to him about his unborn baby. There had been no phone calls, no letters, no postcards, smoke signals, courier pigeons or telegrams. There had been nothing; yet…I still felt him, moving on in the world, going on without me. I still felt that tug though it wasn’t as strong. I wondered if he felt it, too.

  “You’re here!” Emmy squealed, appearing at the top of the stairs. She skipped down and crushed me in a hug.

  “You’re going to suffocate me,” I laughed as I hugged her back.

  “I’m so glad you found time to come home,” she said, pulling back from me.

  I didn’t tell her that I turned down work to be there. I smiled and looked her over. My heart broke looking at her. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her usually vibrant brown and green eyes were dull. She was at least twenty pounds lighter than she should have been. I know I had only been around a few times, but how could I have missed the signs? How did I not hear it in her voice before she broke down to me?

  We were both getting too good at keeping secrets from each other, except it had become one-sided again. I knew all of hers, and she still had no clue about one very big one of mine.

  Sam and Fred joined us on the foyer, hugging me and telling me how glad they were to see me. Sam hated my outfit and told me how pretty I was regardless of my eyebrows.

  Fred wanted to hear all about work and city life. The conversations were never-ending as we sat down for dinner. For a little while, we were able to take the focus off of Emmy and her issues and Mayson and Tack. I wowed them with my stories of work and misadventures in the city. Some stories they’d heard before, but they seemed to like hearing them, and I was glad to oblige. I was indebted to that family. If I had to talk until my mouth was dry to make them content, it was the least I could do.

  Later that night I climbed the stairs to meet Emmy in her room. We were going to lounge on her bed and eat junk food and drink too much Pepsi while we chatted with the radio on in the background. I knew I would later pay the price for the junk food and cola, but Emmy needed what used to be our normal, and so did I.

  I stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked at Emmet’s door. There had been a time, not too far back in my past when I had been happy behind that door. Happy, aroused, smiley, and loved. I wondered if I opened the door if I would feel all of those emotions again or if I would only feel the empty space that it was. An even more alarming thought occurred. What if I found the jars I gifted him sitting on the bed or bureau, left behind and unwanted?

  I didn’t remember crossing the hallway, but suddenly my hand was on the doorknob, and I was turning it slowly. I shrunk back as if the door had burned me. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to push it open. What if the jars were really there? It would gut me.

  But I had to know.

  I pushed open the door.

  *~*~*

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Emmy told me for the hundredth time that day.

  “Me, too,” I said, smiling at her.

  “I’m going to be a better person, Donya,” she said earnestly. “I want to be like you. You’re always so damn strong, and you don’t take any shit.”

  I looked away from her. If only Emmy knew what kind of a person I really was. I was tempted to tell her, but she was looking at me as if I was her rock, and the last thing she needed was for me to roll on her.

  “It’s so lonely here without you and Emmet,” she said sadly. “I guess that’s why I was hanging around Mayson and Tack so much.”

  “They’re your cousins and friends,” I said gently. “There wasn’t anything wrong with hanging out with them.”

  “Yeah,” she said unconvinced. She sighed and changed gears. “Meet any cute guys?”

  I laughed. With Emmy, it always came back to the cute guys.

  “You are so boy crazy!”

  “A little bit,” she grinned and then looked at me sheepishly as her fingers twisted the Pop Rocks package in her hands. “I really like Leo.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Is he on again or off again with Leslie?”

  “They’re on again I think,” she frowned. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “Not like it matters either way. I really like him, but it’s no secret that he’s a slut. I want someone who wants me and me only. I want to be the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up and the last thing he thinks about when he goes to sleep.”

  “You sure have some romantic notions,” I said.

  “There isn’t anything wrong with that. Hell, if I were in Leslie’s shoes, I wouldn’t keep getting back with Leo. I will never be so wrapped up in a guy that I’d let him repeatedly hurt me like that. That’s bullshit. She’s a nice girl. She should be with a guy who respects her and wants her and her only.”

  I nodded in agreement as I considered that. I had a guy that wanted me and me only. I blew it.

  “She must really love him though,” I said thoughtfully. “If she keeps taking him back.”

  “That’s not an excuse. She should love herself more. That’ll never be me, sister.”

  I had no idea that many years later I would recall that conversation and remind Emmy of her words.

  “Have you spoken to Emmet?” she asked me. “He didn’t make the trip to Louisiana for Thanksgiving, and he skipped out of Christma
s the day after instead of hanging around. I was hoping we would be able to spend some time together. I kind of miss him. Don’t tell him I said that,” she followed up quickly.

  “He didn’t go to Louisiana?” I asked, surprised. I had no idea that he had not been there. No one had mentioned it.

  Emmy shook her head. “He said he was spending the time with friends in Boston. Mom gave birth to a full grown cow.”

  “No doubt,” I murmured, lost in my thoughts. I wondered if Emmet was with Stella for Thanksgiving and if she was the reason he skipped out of Christmas early.

  “Oh, shit,” Emmy said, jumping off of the bed. “I forgot!”

  I watched her hurry to her closet.

  “Forgot what?” I asked, shoving a handful of chips in my mouth. I knew I was a pig and the crumbs falling on my lap and the bed wasn’t cool, but it wasn’t often that I got to indulge in the salty snack.

  “Emmet left your gift here,” she said, shuffling back to the bed.

  I blinked at her. “Emmet got me a gift?”

  She presented me with a small rectangle box wrapped neatly in silver gift wrap. A red ribbon was tied around it and formed a perfect bow on top. There was a small tag attached to the ribbon with my name written in Emmet’s handwriting. I held the box in my hands, staring at it with a hard beating heart and large, surprised eyes.

  “I told him to just drop it off in New York on his way back to Cambridge, but he gave me an excuse so lame I can’t even remember what it was,” Emmy said, waving her hand. “Then mom thought it would be nice if you had a gift to come home to.”

  “I’ve been home since Christmas,” I said pointedly, looking at my friend.

  “Yeah, I was kind of screwed up on drugs,” she said defensively. “Cut me some slack.”

  I wasn’t going to give her a speech about the drugs. She didn’t need a speech, and frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to give her one.

  “Are you going to open it?” she asked, reaching for the bag of Doritos.