by Chloe Plume
“I’d never want that,” Nicole had said earlier in the kitchen. “I can’t imagine just sitting around the house, even a really nice one. Like, what I see for my future is being a really big name in Hollywood publicity. I mean, the parties, the celebs, the exposure to all the action and pulse of this town! Can you imagine?!”
“Well, Nicole, it seems like you’ve got it figured out,” I’d said. “That’s awesome.”
“Oh, well, but I’ll tell you…it’s hard to get your break, especially when some women will basically do anything, I mean, sleep with clients, sleep with producers and blackmail them, anything, to get ahead.”
“That’s true. But I mean, eventually that gets back to you. You have to live your life with certain principles, right?”
Nicole had paused, thinking it over. “I suppose. Though, in this industry…”
I looked up from my coffee to see several associates and interns clustered around a tall man-boy dressed in a sleeveless hoodie and beanie. I knew he was a douche before he turned around. But then, as he raised his sunglasses and stared right at me—it was THE douche. None other than Zayde Knight.
Oh great.
“Hey, Maddy, didn’t know you worked here,” he said, walking over, followed by the crowd as the whole meeting moved towards me.
“Yes you did, Zayde,” I responded. “We actually discussed this all during dinner, you remember?”
He smirked. “Nope.”
Mrs. Kingsley came out of nowhere and shooed the crowd away. “Oh, Zayde. Now, yes, I had forgotten this was your sister.”
“Not my sister,” he noted.
“Right, well, we here at KR just want you to know that just as you’re in the Pierce family, you’re also in our family. And we’ll take every care to make sure all this bad news and negative tabloid nonsense is behind us.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Zayde.
“Now,” Mrs. Kingsley said, reaching out to pluck the sunglasses off of Zayde’s face, “let’s get these ridiculous things off so we can see those gorgeous eyes.”
“Oh, well, thanks Mrs. Kingsley. You’re looking very nice yourself I might add. Mr. Kingsley is a very lucky man.” Zayde smirked again, slightly devious and slightly charming.
Mrs. Kingsley laughed, sharp and brief like everything else about her. “I wouldn’t say that. Mr. Kingsley’s luck ran out and he’s currently contemplating his sexual harassment case and divorce settlement from a hotel room. But that’s another matter.”
Zayde and I looked at each other and he winced, as if to say “whoops.” I looked down so no one would see me smile. It really wasn’t anything to laugh about, I just couldn’t believe how nonchalant and off-handed Mrs. Kingsley was about it.
“Well, now. We have everyone in the conference room. Let’s get things started. In fact. Maddy?” She turned to face me. “If you’d like to head in with us, it might be a great experience for you, a great opportunity in fact.”
“That’s alright,” I said. “I mean, I’m just an intern and all, first year.”
“Oh well, yes, usually that would be the case. But, very well.”
“Thank you though.”
No sooner had I said that, then the whole office erupted. A dozen female voices started OMGing and giggling and conversing loudly all at once.
“Now, that’s completely unprofessional,” Mrs. Kingsley began. “Let me stop this at once.” She turned to the office floor and, walking a few paces towards the center of the commotion, shouted, “What is the meaning of all this? Speak up!”
The chatter stopped and a girl lifted her phone with one hand and then pointed another at Zayde. Mrs. Kingsley turned back and looked at Zayde, who shrugged.
“Ah,” she said, walking back to where Zayde and I stood. She turned on her phone and pulled up one of Zayde’s social media accounts. “Well, at least it’s not what I expected.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see there were a few pictures of Zayde shirtless in the gym, possibly flexing. No surprise there.
“Now Zayde,” started Mrs. Kingsley, putting her arm around him and leading him to the conference room, “what we need is less of this and more of…oh, I don’t see why we can’t get a few photos of you helping the poor, possibly a soup kitchen or two, or even—yes, an animal shelter. After all, it’s endearing. We’ll discuss more inside…”
As Mrs. Kingsley’s voice trailed off, I turned back towards the open workspace in the center of the office and headed towards my seat next to Nicole. There was no question Zayde was self-infatuated. But honestly, what a body. I mean, I had to stop myself from grabbing my phone and taking a peek myself.
“Check it out!” Nicole saved me the trouble, shoving her phone in my face.
Sure enough, Zayde had uploaded photos of himself staring at the mirror, sans shirt, and showing off his hard-won gains at the gym. The mirror also reflected his self-admiring gaze, visible in the upper-left of each picture. His abs rippled, tight and tan, and his chest and shoulders were flush from exertion. You could see the tone of his muscles, even in his forearms. And finally, his arms were ripped, the separation in his biceps and triceps calling attention to his lack of body fat.
“Damn! He’s gorgeous! Am I right?”
“Uh…yeah, he’s alright I guess,” I muttered as Nicole finally pulled her phone from my eyeballs.
“Well, you’re so damn lucky Madison! I mean, he’s at your house. Zayde Knight literally lives right there?!”
Literally. In what other sense would he live there?
“Yeah, sure.” I turned to my computer, looking at the list of talk shows I was supposed to reach out to about—of course—Zayde. I really wished I could be doing something, anything really, not related to Zayde.
“Oh! I just remembered,” Nicole said, her head peeking out from behind her computer display, which was back to back with mine. “There’s a party tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Oh yeah. Well, I mean, we’re not technically invited. Per se… But, I have it on good authority from my friend that all hot girls are more than welcome, which—well, let’s be honest—we are both like totally bitching!”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess if you’re going, I can stop by.”
“It’ll be great for you Madison! You can totally meet some people, make some friends for the summer. Except…” Nicole paused.
“What?”
“Well, I’m wondering, given your preppy school thing, like, do you have anything to wear?”
“Yeah, of course. Like a nice skirt and jacket or something?”
Nicole frowned. “Okay. Well, maybe we can go shopping.” Suddenly her eyes lit up. “This’ll be fun! I’m so freaking excited Madison! Girls’ night!”
“Sure, yeah. Okay.”
I had no choice. In any case, it might be fun to let go for just a night.
Chapter 12
Zayde
“Yo, do you think chicks like this shit?”
I was at the liquor store with my buddy David, stocking up for the little get-together at my apartment. He was holding up some sparkling purple shimmery beverage, the likes of which I’d never seen before.
“Yeah, I don’t know. Probably tastes like shit. Just get a bunch of vodka and some mixer crap.”
David nodded. “Good call man. They’ll get drunker that way.”
David was in many ways a worse human being than me. Blame it on poor parenting. His dad was James Remley. At least he had pretty good career prospects all lined up though.
David laughed. “Oh man, speaking of which, remember that time like, yeah, last year… Who was that chick?”
I shrugged.
“Yeah, well…oh, Jeana, that was her!”
“That’s right.” I remembered Jeana well.
“I think that was probably the closest thing I’ve seen to a real life nympho.” David chuckled.
“You?” I said, acting surprised. “Well, then, that’s got to mean something.”
David conti
nued. “Man, first she’s all up on you, then me. But I’m about to get her upstairs, and you know what she says?”
“What?”
“She starts like moaning and twisting up against me all hot and shit and she says wouldn’t it be great if we both come up with her and she’ll take us both on!”
I nodded. “Well, my man, no offense to you, but it’s too close for comfort. You know I love you bro, but I’m not risking any crossing of the swords.”
“Ah shit, well, I got her up there anyway.”
Usually I’d tease David about having already bagged Jeana earlier that night, but I just didn’t care anymore.
“Oh man,” David kept going, “I nailed all three holes man. And surprisingly, that ass was real tight.” He laughed.
I put up my hand. “All right, too much info bro. Last thing I want to think about is your red face huffing around in my guest room.”
“Yeah…alright. But good times my man. Your parties are like legendary. I mean, you remember the time the whole UCLA cheerleading squad showed up?”
“Well, that I remember,” I said, though my mind was elsewhere.
Which is insane.
For some reason, I was thinking about Maddy in her frumpy work clothes instead of the scantily clad cheerleaders who had given me one of the most memorable nights of my life.
Uh, let me think: cleavage baring dresses so tight they couldn’t wear panties, or some wide leg pants and a boxy jacket thrown haplessly over a baggy blouse.
My hand moved instinctively to my crotch, to check if my balls were still attached and working.
“Yo,” David shouted, while filling the cart with four or five bottles of Jack, “tonight’s gonna be fucking wild though. You know I heard Lisa’s going, so you’ll probably get to tap that again.”
“Lisa?” I asked, my mind elsewhere.
David cupped his hands out and over his chest.
“Oh, right, Lisa.” Lisa with the big guns.
What the hell is going on? Man, those were good times.
“Probably should throw in a keg or two, so I’ll go get that set with the guy in the front.” He counted the heap of bottles in the carriage.
“Yeah, sure.”
David slapped his hand over my shoulder. “Come on man, don’t look so sad! Booze, girls…oh and listen…” He leaned over towards me so no one could overhear. “You know, I got some blow, so we can do a couple bumps and get things going later.”
“Nah man,” I said louder, so I could make my point clear. “You don’t bring that shit, alright?”
David backed away. “Jeesh. Alright. What the hell, man. You never had a—“
“I just can’t with everything going on. Clean image and shit, alright? So don’t fuck me.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been working on setting you up some late night shit in NY with all that. So believe me I know.”
David was already a junior partner at KR—somehow, he’d managed that—and he knew all about my publicity issues. “All right,” I said, motioning to the checkout. “Let’s get set and have a good time.
“Yeah, yeah, no worries.”
Chapter 13
Madison
“I’m not so sure about this,” I murmured, standing outside of an all-to-trendy store with Nicole.
“Oh, come on. You have the figure for all this, you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
Nicole eyed me up and down, to the point of discomfort. “You’re tall, great curves, toned figure…honestly, it makes me jealous. Now get inside!”
I begrudgingly followed her into the store and was immediately met by the sounds of trendy music and the smells of excessive perfuming. An over anxious sales girl shuffled over, teetering on high heels that made me feel sorry for how long she had to stand in them working all day.
“If you need anyyyy help—anything at all—just let me know. I’d be more than happy to help you find anyyything.”
She had an accent that indicated she’d recently made her way to L.A. from the Midwest. She was tall, thin, and beautiful. So many tall, thin, and beautiful girls worked in L.A. retail.
Nicole gasped. “Oh, wow! Madison. It’s like fate has come true—there’s your dress!” She shook her finger at the wall opposite a cluster of hip-looking mannequins.
I followed her outstretched hand to a display featuring a black dress with asymmetrical straps and a short excuse for a hemline.
I shook my head. “Yeah, okay,” I said sarcastically.
Nicole wasn’t having it. She dragged me over to the artfully lit display and, without a single moment of hesitation, plunked two sizes from the rack and threw them at me.
“Go try these on. I’ll look for shoes.”
“I already have shoes,” I attempted.
Nicole eyed my flats and pursed her face. “I have my doubts,” she said, running off towards the shoe department.
What have I gotten myself into?
I approached the dressing room area and immediately—as if anticipating her commission—the sales girl from before magically appeared in front of me.
“Ohhhh! Gorgeous. Good eye. Special occasion?”
I hesitated. “I mean. Not really, just a party. Well, first one in L.A. actually.” Immediately, I felt like I shared too much information. But yes, it was sadly my first serious young person social occasion—if you could call it that—in Los Angeles.
“Oh! Well, welcome to L.A.”
I realized the obvious conclusion she was drawing. “Right. Thanks.”
She opened the door and took the two garments, hanging them right next to the moody lighting emanating in front of the dressing room mirror. “Let me know if you need anything!”
“I will,” I said, suddenly adding “thank you!”
This is ridiculous.
I’d never even worn a dress without a jacket, given how self-conscious I was about my “beanpole” figure. Never mind a dress this short, one that put my legs on full display.
My scrawny chicken legs.
I could hear the jabs and taunts from the playground years. I really was gangly and awkward then. I’d opted for preppy, full coverage clothing all my life.
Cautiously, I stepped into the smaller of the two dresses Nicole had picked. I pulled the straps over my shoulders and attempted to zip the back, but it didn’t feel right. It was too tight in the back. Surprisingly. I’d always been teased about having nothing back there.
So I tossed it on the ottoman in the corner and zipped the other dress along my back. I enjoyed the unfamiliar feeling of the hugging but not tight material enveloping the curve of my rear and tracing the contours of my lower back. The straps hung firmly from my shoulders and met at the subtle sweep of textured material that ran under the swell of my chest. The dress was cut low enough to expose the top of my breasts, but didn’t put the plunge of my cleavage on display. The hem was high though, especially given the proportion of my legs. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but—turning to the side—I had to acknowledge that my figure looked good. I was always worried about my lack of figure. But now, with the dress hugging the curve of my butt, and the straps running gently over my small shoulders and arms, I looked like I had some kind of shape. I shifted to either side.
Kind of fun.
Someone loudly knocked at the door.
“Open up, Open up!”
It was Nicole. I turned the knob.
She burst through and beamed with delight, holding a pair of strappy black shoes in her small hands. “You won’t believe what I found!”
“Those shoes,” I answered.
“Yeah, you know what I mean. Try them on!” She placed them on the ground, and, standing back to observe my dress, shouted, “Oh my god!” She rushed to place both her hands on my shoulders. “Madison. Look into my eyes and know the truth.”
“Um…Okay?”
She gazed deeply, her brown eyes intent and focused. “You look, like completely and literally, Gorgeous, with a cap
ital G!”
“Well, thanks, I guess.”
“You guess!” Nicole shook her head. “No, this is something else. Look”—she reached out over the curve in my backside—“you see how that just works for you?”
“I guess,” I said, squinting at the mirror.
“You GUESS?! Madison, let me tell you something”—she took a step back and plopped onto the ottoman, her head tilted to the side—“if I were just like this bit”—she motioned a small length with her thumb and index finger—“just that much lesbian, or, hell, even bisexual, “let’s just say you wouldn’t be leaving this dressing room anytime soon!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied.
“You better!” she said eagerly. “Now, try on those shoes.”
I reached down and pulled the strappy, open black heels over my feet. They were surprisingly elegant. I had assumed Nicole would have chosen something a bit more flashy.”
As if on cue, Nicole commented, “On a different kind of girl, I would have gone with maybe like a silver heel, but you know, you do have this like aura of sophistication, and the dress really shows off on top…so…”
“I like it,” I said.
“Oh! This is great!”
“So, do I need any accessories?”
Nicole studied me, from heels to neck. “No, nothing.”
“Really?” I asked, incredulous.
“See, again, maybe on a different sort.”
“A different sort?” I asked.
“Yeah, like you’re a certain girl, Madison,” she said, her features tensed in thought. “You’re like…hmmm… sophisticated, a bit stand-offish, even uninviting, I’d say—”
“Hey!” I interjected.
“You know what I mean,” Nicole continued. “Like, a femme-fatale or something.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“It’s a good thing,” Nicole assured me. “ Now, how about those shoes?”
I looked down at my legs, which, honestly, looked much better than I ever thought possible in those heels. “Thanks Nicole.” I turned towards her. “I mean it. I wouldn’t have even tried on this dress—in a million years—but it’s…well, it works. I’m so glad, thanks.”