I’m just about to message Rook so she can send the next group when another girl walks into our makeshift room. It takes me a moment to recognize her because I haven’t seen her in over a month, but once I do my happiness is immediate.
“Clare!” I get up and scoop her up in a big hug. “We’re supposed to pick you up tomorrow!” She squeezes me tight as I lift her and everything just melts away. I put her down and hold her out at arm’s length so I can look her over. “You look so good, sweetie!”
She sighs and then flashes me an embarrassed smile as she blushes. “Thanks. Hey, Roger, long time, eh?”
“Yeah,” he says, standing up and coming over to her. He plants a kiss on her cheek and pulls her into a hug. “You really look great, Clare. Really great.”
“Do Antoine and Elise know you’re here?”
“No, I wanted to surprise you guys, I wanted to—”
I grab her hand and pull her towards the stairs. “Oh, you’re gonna make them so happy, Clare, come on!” I drag her upstairs, totally ignoring the guy she came in with, punch in the code and rush her into the apartment. Elise is lying on the couch with her feet in Antoine’s lap. It takes them a moment to recognize Clare too, but both sets of eyes go wide when it kicks in and Elise jumps up faster than she should for someone with morning sickness. She flings her little arms around Clare and hugs her tight.
“You sneak! We were gonna pick you up tomorrow!”
Clare starts crying as Antoine joins the group hug and then pulls her into his arms and buries his face in her hair. “I’m so glad you’re home. So glad you’re home.”
Clare is like a new person. I just stand there and shake my head. I can’t remember her ever looking this good. Ever. She’s put on at least ten pounds, her hair is sleek and her blue eyes are bright and alert.
How long has it been since I saw her clean?
Years. It’s been years since this girl looked healthy.
I just smile at them as they chat and Elise and Clare wipe away tears. “Oh, Rook! You have to meet Rook, Clare.” I jog through the door and stand at the top of the stairs. “Everyone—take thirty, please. Clare’s home!” I hear a smattering of claps from the regular staff and take a deep breath and let the happiness wash over me. It worked, I think to myself. We fixed her. She looks better than ever. It worked!
“Rook!” I call down. “Come up here, Gidge! You have to meet Clare!”
Rook smiles and sets down her clipboard, then pushes the girls outside the door and closes it before walking slowly over to the stairs. I take her hand once she reaches me and let out a long sigh. “Did you see her come in? Doesn’t she look great?” I don’t wait for an answer, just tug her into Antoine’s apartment with me and spread my arms wide. “Rook, this is Clare. The real Clare,” I add. “Not that psycho bitch you saw in the dressing room that day last spring.”
Clare swats me on the arm. “I deserve that, but I’d rather not be reminded.”
I pull her into another hug before she greets Rook, then lean down and kiss her head. “I am so happy, you have no idea!”
She swats me again and pulls back as she offers her hand to Rook. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Gidget.” Clare winks at her and when I look over at Rook she’s blushing.
Rook extends her hand out and shakes it. “It’s so great to meet you, Clare,” Rook says. It comes out polite and sweet, like all her words. But I detect something underneath. She can’t be jealous of Clare. Can she?
Clare turns back to Elise and Antoine and they talk excitedly in French. When I look back to Rook she’s frowning. “Hey, English only when Rook’s here, guys. She can’t understand and it’s rude.”
“That’s OK, Ronin. I don’t mind.”
This is a lie, but I’m not about to push it here. I pull her close and then lean down to kiss her. “Let’s get back to work.” I look over to Antoine and nod. “We’re still on for tonight?” He nods back and I smile down at Rook again. She’s uncomfortable with Clare, I can tell. Maybe jealous, maybe even intimidated.
“What’s tonight?” she asks.
“Oh, just dinner at your favorite French restaurant.”
She moans and follows me out the door. I stop at the top of the stairs. “You don’t want to go fancy with me tonight? I’ll pick you out a sexy dress from the closet.” I waggle my eyebrows at her to try and play innocent, but she’s irritated on two fronts now. My choice in restaurants and insinuating I get to choose her clothes.
It takes all my self-control not to laugh at her, but I manage because she’s right where I want her. So I say nothing, just drag her back downstairs and drop her off at the front door and then take my place back on the other side of the room with Roger.
Yup. I’ve got her right where I want her.
Chapter Four - ROOK
The rest of my day goes like shit. I check in hundreds of girls. Hundreds of beautiful girls who make me look like some homeless person living out of a garbage can in my zippered hoodie and my last year’s jeans.
I’m not kidding either. I know I’m not ugly. Hell, I’m pretty enough to get two major modeling contracts, so that’s not what this is about. It’s not about me, or my degree of pretty. These girls are drop-dead, can’t-take-your-eyes-off-them, stunningly beautiful—gorgeous.
They have perfect skin, toned bodies, designer clothes, professionally applied make-up, and exotic accents. Almost all of them have some sort of accent, even if it’s just Southern Belle Sweet or Valley Girl Annoying. None of them sound the same.
And then, of course, there’s the really exotic girls. The ones from Asia and Australia and Europe.
I wonder if my barely-there Chicago accent qualifies as exotic?
I snort quietly to myself. I’m pretty sure that’s a big fucking no.
And if all this wasn’t enough to make me feel super insecure and plain, Clare is here.
Clare. The first beautiful person I encountered the day Luck changed my life. The one girl who commands Ronin’s attention like no other. Not even me. Sure, he shows up and saves me when I need it, but if Clare and I had an emergency at the same moment, I’m just not sure he’d pick me every time.
I sigh and send the last group of girls over to Ronin and Roger.
These girls look tired and worn down. It’s past six now and they’ve been standing around for the better part of twelve hours. They must really be in denial because there’s no way Ronin and Roger, exhausted and sick of looking at girls and reading resumes, are even remotely interested in these last five girls. But maybe they like the girls enough to keep their names on file for something in the future. I guess if you’re desperate to be discovered as a model, this is one way to do it.
Less than five minutes later Ronin comes out from behind the walled-off partition stretching his arms as I let the sad group of girls out and then make sure the door clicks to indicate it’s locked. A knock scares the shit out of me and I open the door again.
“Delivery for Chaput?” the man with a clipboard says.
“Um…”
“That’s us,” Ronin says. He signs the paperwork and points over to the kitchen or maybe the terrace. “Over there is fine, thanks.” And then the freight elevator dings and Ronin has me by the arm and he’s leading me upstairs.
“What about my dress?” I ask as we flash past the dressing room.
“I told you, I got you covered.”
I scowl at him. “I seriously thought you were kidding. You’re not kidding?”
“Trust me, Rook.” But I’m not sure I should, because his face does not look trustworthy, it looks… devious. If my silence bothers him, he doesn’t show it, just pulls me down the hallway to our apartment, unlocks the door, and whisks me inside.