I sipped on my tea, appalled by what Xanthe had gone through.
“The ridicule and concern over her mental faculties made Xanthe very careful. She was hurt that her writing was being used against her. She was more upset that her ability to create amazing tales was discredited simply for the subject matter. She wasn’t being looked at as a gifted writer—which, of course, she is—but rather, she was seen as a sick person in need of help. What she had needed were people encouraging her, not judging her.”
I nodded, unable to speak. But I knew Xanthe, too, and if she were the one telling me this, she would have brushed this off and said she wouldn’t change a thing because it had made her who she was.
“My, time flies when you’re in good company,” said Ellen, once again smiling. “But Jaime should be by to help me close up soon. If you want to continue the rest of your life as a man, I’d suggest you hightail it out of here.”
My jaw dropped.
Ellen nodded. “I’m old, son, not stupid. I’d love to see more of you around here though. Come and visit anytime during the day.”
Smiling back at her, I replied, “I will.” I stood up, throwing my bag over my shoulder. “And thanks for the tea.”
“I prefer coffee, if I’m honest. The strong kind. And sweet.”
“Message received.”
“Good.”
She walked me to the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Oliver.”
I wasn’t surprised she knew my name. “Likewise, Ellen.”
She didn’t seem surprised I knew hers either. I left the shop, passing by the window display with the Haunted Bonds hardcovers showing my scowling face plastered all over them.
Before Xanthe’s bloodthirsty friend busted me, I hurried down the street to Helmersen’s coffee shop for a fat joint and espresso before heading home. I was already feeling lighter. Ellen had given me a ray of hope to hoard in my Pandora’s box of Xanthe.
Ollie
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?”
Sighing, I snapped a few shots of the model stretched over the chaise longue, ignoring Gabriella’s whiny tone. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she had felt the need to show up here.
“Well?”
“I’m working,” I replied. “On your belly?” I asked the model.
She was a new one with the Secret Desires line. She looked good in the black ensemble she had on. A week and a half ago, I would have thought she was damn amazing. But I had experienced true amazement, and she didn’t compare.
“You don’t want me here?” Gabriella fumed.
“Not really,” I told her.
The model snickered, and I lowered the camera, throwing a glare her way.
“We’ll talk later, all right?” I told Gabriella.
She took herself off in a huff, and I continued with the shoot. Normally, I loved these shoots with scantily clad beautiful women. No doubt, Gabriella thought I wanted to get my rocks off with this one, but nothing could be further from the truth.
Gabriella modeled for Secret Desires. From what I’d gathered, she’d passed this shoot off to this woman here, for some reason or other. There had been no need for her to come today if she wasn’t working—unless she was only here to intimidate the new girl.
“What’s your name again?”
“Teresa,” she replied in her Spanish accent.
Yeah, it would be.
Gabriellas, Biancas, and Teresas—I was starting to see them as one globular form of womanhood. They were beautiful to look at, but I was much more interested in the Xanthes of the world now. I was ashamed of myself for never giving them the time of day before.
Teresa went off to change into the next outfit, not even bothering to hide her nudity from me. She threw a coy look over her shoulder before turning around and baring her naked form. Looking her over to appease her vanity, I then scrolled through the shots I’d already taken.
I wanted this to be done with. I just hoped it wouldn’t show in my work.
If I wrapped this up before noon, there’d be enough time to run to Helmersen’s and get Ellen an espresso before I irritated the woman for a few hours. Either Rex or Jaime would be coming to help her around five o’clock. I needed to talk to someone about Xanthe, preferably someone who didn’t want my gonads on a skewer.
After another hour, I was done. Teresa went off to get dressed in another room, and Gabriella waltzed in.
“Did you fuck her?” she asked me in angry Brazilian Portuguese.
“No,” I replied in English. I wasn’t paying her much attention as I packed up my equipment. I had enough time to run it back to FairFawkes before heading to Helmersen’s.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, again speaking Portuguese.
Sighing, I stowed my camera and slung the bag over my shoulder. “Nothing you would understand,” I told her.
She grabbed my hand, and I looked down at her. I didn’t want her touching me. I didn’t want anyone but Xanthe touching me.
“Ollie, there are rumors that something happened while you were in New York. Why won’t you tell me?”
Dreamstone had released a statement that I’d had an emergency, and therefore, I had had to back out of the Boston signing. I hadn’t even considered that Gabriella would have been worried about me.
“It’s nothing to concern yourself with, Gabby. I promise, I’m okay.”
She nodded and snuggled into me, hugging me tight. It felt wrong. I tilted my pelvis away from hers, just to be safe.
“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” she asked, pressing her forehead to my neck.
Her hand brushed my crotch, and I pulled back.
“No. I have to get going.”
“But—”
“Gabby, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Grabbing the tripod and the sack with my lighting equipment, I ran for the elevator. The shoot had been in the penthouse of a luxury hotel, and I was just desperate to get to my car.
Trey was right, damn it.
If I hadn’t been so convinced that Gabriella was of my same frame of mind, I’d have noticed that she was becoming attached. Granted, she was the only woman I’d slept with for the last few months, but like I had told Trey, she had been the only one around.
Jesus, I was stupid.
Jumping in my car—I need to clean out the busted petals—I got away from Gabriella and Teresa as fast as I could.
At FairFawkes, I ran in and dropped my stuff off in my office.
“Oliver?” came Trey’s voice from his own office.
“Yeah?”
“You got a minute?”
“Um…”
He came in. “I’ll take that as a yes. You need to call Mandy. There’s something you need to do to keep the contract with Dreamstone. She said that she’s available now.”
I slumped. “All right.”
“And I think we need to hire an assistant or a receptionist. We’re, uh…getting a bit more business.”
“Sure.”
“Anyone in mind?”
“Yeah. No one I’ve slept with.”
“Well, that rules out half of the females in this city.”
Huffing in irritation, I snapped, “I haven’t been with that many.”