by Liv Bennett
CH 13 - JULIE - Dirty Love
~
All is fair in love and war.
Isn’t that what common belief holds? I might have done certain things that I’m not proud of. I might have lied, manipulated, and misinformed some individuals along the way. But, it’s all fair because the main purpose behind every little, wicked move I’ve made is winning his love. Zane’s heart.
So what if I told Felicia that Zane would never consider a woman romantically if she wasn’t down for blowing him on the first date. I thought she’d back off and change her mind. After all, she was a devoted Christian. But she was okay with the idea. Although I must say I wasn’t shocked at her willingness to get Zane’s attention, it’s Zane we’re talking about. A high-end prostitute or a virgin, any girl would want to call him hers.
Ashley was my best candidate. If anyone on my list had a chance to be called Mrs. Zane Hawkins, it was her. She was smart, beautiful, exotic, dedicated and very feminine. I know Zane well enough to know he’d lose his mind over her in a matter of seconds. That’s why I had to up my game. She wouldn’t accept my suggestions, anyway.
The gossips about Brandy Benfield’s hopeless attempts at landing a role—any role—basically fell into my lap. I made a few calls around and found out about her lunch date with Merlin at Daisy’s. I didn’t have the slightest doubt she wouldn’t be able to keep her big mouth shut and would ruin Zane’s date. She’d bragged about the one and only night she’d fooled Zane into sleeping with her for months on end, she wouldn’t so easily forget it or allow anyone else, including Zane, to forget it, either.
Poor Zane. I wish I could see how sour his face got when Brandy blurted out, possibly proudly, the details of their night together. He’d hate me if he knew about my role in ruining his date, but at its core, it’s his fault. He’s the one who beds anything with a hole, not me.
Soren wasn’t a big deal. She’s a businesswoman and I appealed to that side of her. Being busy while climbing up the career leader is understandable. Couple that with the little lie I made up about Zane’s appreciation of a woman who’s unattainable, and I could convince her to be super greedy with her schedule. The result: immediate dismissal from a possible date with Zane.
I have plans for each and every candidate on the list. I told Nora, a third year resident at Cedar Sinai, to exaggerate the number of men she’d slept with. Turns out, she didn’t need to exaggerate anything. Her number, a whopping 237, is enough to turn even the most desperate man off. How she found time to study for med school and survive the night shifts at the hospital is beyond me, not to mention the variety of STD’s her vagina must be hosting. Yikes.
I suggested that Elizabeth, a PhD candidate in Etymology, come clean about the three abortions she’d had within the last two years.
The list goes on. I have plans for every one of the seventeen ladies left on the list. I will make sure Zane meets them all and hates them all. And if he requests me to find him more women, I will. But, I will make sure every one has a reason to be dismissed. That’s the game. That’s my plan to make him realize no woman will be good enough for him, save for yours truly.
What I feel for him isn’t an obsession. I understand his needs better than anyone else. I can read his thoughts just from a look on his face. I can see the scars in his soul. I know him like the back of my hand. If I find there’s another woman who can give him true happiness, I’ll gladly hand him over to her, but such a woman doesn’t exist. He believed Lindsay was the one, but she never loved him in the first place.
Speaking of Lindsay, it turns out she’s not the opportunist latching onto wealthy men in the hopes to get on the gravy train, I thought she was. She’s actually a fairly decent girl and thanks to her eagle eyes, she noticed my crush on Zane early on. Ever since she found out about my secret, we’ve become good friends, and she’s the only one who knows my secret plan to get Zane.
Gripping my phone tightly in my palm, I turn to Lindsay. “Ashley is out. Soren didn’t even stand a chance.”
“How many left on the list?” She pours herself another cup of coffee and reaches for the cookies on the plate on my kitchen counter.
“Seventeen.”
Her eyes grow large in surprise as she takes a bite from one of the chocolate chip cookies I baked for her this morning when she’d told me she’d stop by. Something must be going on in Lindsay-ville. I can tell by the sheer number of cookies she’s gulped down since she walked in half an hour ago.
“Why did you pick so many women? He’ll screw them all. Is that what you want?” she asks.
A fair question that has me thinking. Of course, I hate to think of Zane in another woman’s arms, but I have to focus on the end game. It doesn’t matter how many soldiers I’ll lose in the battle as long as I have the victory in the end.
“I’m just hoping he’ll come to his senses before he has to go through the entire list.” I eye the cookie plate with longing. I love cooking and baking, but more than anything I love eating. However, I need to stay in shape and those cookies are just obstacles on my way to happiness. That’s why I try to take pleasure from feeding friends and colleagues.
“This is Zane we’re talking about. He won’t come to his senses as long as there’s an available vagina waiting for him.”
“That’s crass.” I cringe at her words, more so because she’s right.
“Zane is crass.”
“What would you recommend then?”
She shrugs and pointedly glances at my clothes. “Make yourself a little bit more available.”
I gulp, feeling a cold shiver running down my spine, and cross an arm across my torso. “What do you mean?”
“You know…your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“They’re too depressing. You look like a walking funeral.”
I force myself to smile despite the discomfort settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. I’m well aware of the impression I give off with my clothes. The first thing I did after Michael’s death was to get rid of all the revealing clothes he forced me to wear while working for him, but it seems my choice of wardrobe might be as much of an obstacle as those cookies.
“What do you suggest?” I’m curious about her observation, but there’s no way I’m going back to skirts riding high on my thighs, either.
She walks around me, assessing me with a laser-focused stare from head to toe, making hmm, hmm sounds while thinking. “You’re a brunette with a light complexion.”
I smile at her comment. “Doesn’t take a scientist to figure that out.”
“Your neck is a little too long and your shoulders are a bit on the narrow side.”
I reach for my neck, covering it with my hand, feeling unsettled by her not-so-flattering observations.
“Your hips could be curvier,” she continues, still making circles around my body.” “And your legs longer.”
“Can you please stop pointing out my flaws?”
Stopping before me, she takes a deep breath, grinning. “That’s all. Now we should get you clothes to cover those flaws and flatter your body shape. Can I take a look at your wardrobe?”
“By all means.” I head to my bedroom and let her in.
She opens the closet and goes through my clothes one by one, although I know she won’t find anything useful in there. I can’t see myself putting on anything useful according to her definition, anyway. So this conversation is actually a waste of time, but she’s a friend and I should let her try to help me.
“Sorry to say this, but your taste in clothes is horrible.” Her eyes move from my dark-colored suits on the hangers to the black jeans I’m wearing along with a black cotton shirt. She picks up a black pants suit and wrinkles her nose as if she’s holding a piece of garbage. “Uhhh! Seriously, you don’t have any summer dresses? Men love dresses. All of them. It’s a universal fact. We need to go shopping right now.”
“I’m not exactly a dress type of girl,” I confess uncomforta
bly and lean against the door frame.
“You used to have lots of them. What happened to that sexy red dress you wore at Michael’s party?”
“I gave it away along with the other revealing clothes.”
“Why?” Her voice is deep and raspy, her gaze demanding.
“I need to make some phone calls for Scarlet’s birthday party tonight,” I say in an effort to change the subject, as it reminds me of the painful past, and I’d rather erase those memories permanently. “I’m getting the cake for her.”
“Just tell me why you gave away your clothes.” She hangs the pants-suit she was holding back its place and takes a step toward me. Then abruptly, she stops in her tracks, her eyes growing large with realization. “Is it because…?” Her jaw drops and her mouth pops open. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I’m a horrible person.”
I look away, the pain tightening my stomach, the memories of being forced to please other men hitting me hard. An unexpected sob shakes my body, hopefully not visibly. “You’re not,” I manage to say.
“Yes, I am. You should be able to wear whatever makes you feel comfortable, and if Zane doesn’t see your true beauty, it’s his loss.”
I shrug and swallow the painful lump in my throat. “That would be wishful thinking. You were right in your earlier assessment. I need to do something about my wardrobe. I need to look more appealing. Men are visual creatures, and Zane is even more so.”
Her glossy pink lips curl up with an understanding smile. Closing the distance between us, she rubs my upper arm with a gentle stroke of her hand. “You don’t have to wear slutty clothes. There’re several options where you can look cute and sensual without revealing half your body.”
She’s right. With Michael, I was only allowed to wear scanty dresses, and now long skirts and shabby jackets are all I have. There must be a middle ground. “I’m gonna need your help shopping for an outfit for Scarlet’s party.”
Piling my phone and keys into a handbag, I follow Lindsay outside. When behind the wheel of her car, she glances at her phone with sad eyes, her long sigh leading me to wonder if she’s going through hard times in her relationship. Although Ace seems crazy in love with Lindsay, he’s from an unstable family and might not know exactly how to interpret Lindsay’s emotions.
“Is everything okay?” I ask with a friendly smile.
Lifting her gaze up from her phone, she gives her head a quick shake and inserts the key into the ignition. “No. Not really, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
As the car merges into traffic, my handbag vibrates with an incoming call, and I fish out my phone to see Cary’s name blaring on the screen. The screenwriter I’m trying to convince Zane to hire is a kind man and very hardworking. “Hi Cary, how is everything going?”
“Great. Just wanted to let you know about the screenplay I’ve written for the upcoming episode.” His voice trembles as the last words roll out of his mouth. His shyness is a fresh breath of air among the very confident and extroverted people in Hollywood.
“Really. Are you telling me you put together a complete screenplay for the next episode? Not just jotting down a few ideas?” In just a day?
“Yeah, I’m just grateful for the opportunity, you know. The show is fantastic. I can’t wait to be part of it.”
“Great.” I grin in satisfaction. If only I can land another writer with his creativity and enthusiasm, the show will rise to new heights in terms of ratings. “Send me over the script. I’ll take a look at it today.”
“Sounds fantastic. I’m looking forward to hearing what you think about it.”
I hang up and go right to my inbox. A new email pops up, and I upload the word file to glance through it.
“Is it about Frat House?” Lindsay asks while waiting on the red light. “Is Conner going to jail? But, no. Don’t tell me! I’ll just find it out Thursday. It’s fucking killing me, though.”
My grin widens in satisfaction. Lindsay is behaving no different than the rest of the millions of Frat House audience; treating the characters of the show as if they’re real. That’s exactly why the show needs strong writers. “Have you heard of Henrietta Cruz?”
“Yeah, from Troubled Girls, right?”
“You know her? Did you watch the show?”
“Not obsessively. It was fun in the beginning, then the story started repeating itself. Sheela loses her job and gets into depression in the first season, then the same thing happens to Francie’s husband in the third season. Why repeat the same thing? Like they can’t come up with a different story or something.”
“That’s true.” That again coincides with Henrietta’s participation in the writers’ team. She probably didn’t care about the first season’s storyline. I must find a way to make Zane understand she’s not a good fit for the team. Just one more thing on my list of things I want Zane to understand.
CH 14 - JULIE - The Makeover
~
After three hours of non-stop shopping, Lindsay and I finally find a suitable dress that I can wear without feeling like a slut and that Lindsay deems sexy enough. It’s a dark-pink, knee-length sheath dress with long sleeves. Lindsay insists I should skip wearing a bra beneath it and shakes her head dismissively when I try it on with one.
“You’re actually drawing more attention to your chest with a bra,” she says when I put on the dress once again back at home.
“Really?” I study my reflection through the mirror in my bedroom. My boobs appear huge beneath the tight dress. “Jesus, you’re right. I’ll have to put on a cardigan.”
“Please, no! You’re gonna ruin a perfectly good dress with a cardigan.” Going through the shoes hanging on the wall inside my wardrobe, she picks out black pumps and hands them to me. “Just wear these and nothing else.”
I slide into the high heels, while my eyes are still locked on my unbelievably large chest. I don’t even have big breasts, only B-cup, but thanks to the body-hugging style of the dress, especially around the waist, my boobs could easily be mistaken for a C-cup.
“You look gorgeous. You’ll blow his mind.” Lindsay covers her wide-open mouth with both hands, her eyes gleaming brightly as they sweep over my body. I can’t say I’m bothered by her enthusiasm, but if, as a girl, she thinks I’m gorgeous, what will the men on the street think?
“Are you sure?” I hesitate to turn to the side and examine how much bigger my ass looks in this tight dress, but the sight isn’t half as terrible as I’ve expected.
“Yes! I’m absolutely sure. Come on. Let’s get your hair and makeup done, too.”
I glance down at my watch. Only half an hour before the party starts and I still have to get the birthday cake from the bakery. After a quick shower, I pull the chair before the vanity and let Lindsay style my hair and do my makeup. When she’s done and I get a chance to study my reflection, I nod my appreciation. She’s managed to keep my innocent look while adding a hint of sexiness, so different from the wanton look Michael wanted me to have at all times.
But, still the look of my enormous boobs won’t stop bothering me. It’s actually hard to notice anything else about me other than them. That’s why I select a long black cardigan out of my wardrobe despite Lindsay’s alarmed warnings against it. “You’re gonna ruin a perfectly good dress.”
“Just in case,” I say and fill the black clutch she picked out for me with my phone, wallet, and keys.
“In case what? In case Zane notices what a hot chick you are?”
Smiling, I steal one last glimpse of my reflection. “I wish.”
Sliding into the pumps, I tuck the clutch and the cardigan under my arm and head straight for the front door with Lindsay behind me. “Thanks for your help.”
Outside, she wishes me good luck and gets into her car, waving at me as she drives out of the parking lot. My nerves won’t give me a break as I start my car and head to the bakery on my way to Scarlet’s party.
Zane likes a wide spectrum of women, but all have one thing in common,
undeniable sensuality. I should suck up my fears and become the woman who’ll turn him on, because my entire plan is doomed to fail if I can’t create a physical attraction between us. Michael is six feet under and can’t force me to blow his associates anymore. I won’t be sexually abused. I should let go of my fears and focus on my mission.
Still, I just can’t decide about the cardigan. When I pull up in front of the bakery, I give it a long, hesitant look, then decide to leave it where it is, on the passenger seat of my car. Suddenly cheerful with my determination, I get out of my car and head for the bakery.
Despite its small size, the bakery serves thousands of customers and has a wide reputation for its delicious cakes. A young girl is attending two women at one register with a catalog of cakes in her hands and from what I understand, she’s showing them the wedding cakes they design and bake.
I eye the younger of the two women with curiosity. She must be engaged and planning her wedding. She looks to be in her late twenties, just like me, and radiates happiness. She must have found the love of her life to sport that kind of ecstatic expression.
A pang of jealousy hits me hard, like a fist right in my gut, making me wonder if I’ll ever have anything romantic with Zane, much less marry him.
A young girl shows up at the other register, asks me for my order number, and disappears into the kitchen to get Scarlet’s birthday cake. The front door opens with a jingle and a tall, dark-skinned man walks in. He glances at the two women at the other register and then strolls to one of the tables on my right.
I shift in my place, uncomfortable by the presence of a man, although he’s neither talking to me nor interacting with me in any way, but I can feel his gaze on me. My cheeks turn hotter by the second, the muscles in my legs tightening. Breathing deeply, I glance around nonchalantly to calm myself, mentally whispering to myself that even if he’s staring at me, it’s just a harmless gesture.
From the corner of my eye, I can see the man shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on a chair in slow motion. Curious, I crane my head in his direction and notice his face is turned to me. Not just that, he’s ogling at me without a hint of shame, his eyes dark and hungry and sliding down my body. I still; air rushes out of my lungs as hurtful memories swim to the surface and the sickening leers of the men I had to please appear right before my face.