Lucky Number Four (38 page)

“And who is this little hottie?” I feel like
I’m being undressed as the man scans me up and down.

“She’s with me, Bernard, and don’t get any
ideas. She’s not in the biz.” Drew puts his arm around me as if to
solidify his statement.

“She has a wild look about her—untamed hair
and pure skin. Watch out, someone might snatch her up.” I decide
I’m not a fan of this guy, and I sense the feeling is mutual with
Drew.

“We’re out of here.” Drew waits as I go first
and then follows me.

“God, I loathe that man, and if he comes
within ten feet of you, scream, seriously.” Drew sounds serious and
I wonder what Bernard has done to deserve his hatred.

We make our way down hand-in-hand toward the
water, where the majority of people are hanging out.

“Here’s Drew, Sandra,” a voice calls, making
the crowd turn their heads to watch us until we reach them. I feel
like I’m under a microscope, and it’s not a good feeling.

“Great, Drew. Get your ass over here and
let’s get started. Dora, have a seat beside me.” Sandra points to
an empty chair. I let go of Drew’s hand and do as I’m told.

“Okay, ready. These are just Drew pics. I
just got a call the bitch prima donna is running late so we’ll get
started without her.”

The next few hours are full of excitement as
I watch what at first appeared to be a chaotic mess completely
transform into a well-oiled machine. Drew is a natural, and between
shots he jokes with the crew. I can tell he likes all of them and
the feeling seems to be mutual.

“Oh, shit. The twat-monster approaches,”
Sandra mumbles.

I turn to see a face and body that I’ve seen
many times. Angela Paige is beautiful, and she knows it. She wears
self-confidence like a coat. Her attire is the scantest of bikinis.
I wonder why she’s wearing anything at all. She’s tall, long-legged
and blonde, which she swears in every article I’ve read is her real
color. She’s looking straight ahead, and people move out of her way
as she makes her way toward the shoot. I realize her gaze is fixed
on one person, and it’s Drew. Drew is talking to one of the other
male models, and he turns when he hears all the murmurs.

When Angela makes eye-contact with the object
of her attention, she breaks into a breathtaking smile and
seductively saunters up to him and—I can’t believe my eyes—she
kisses him like they’re all alone on this beach. The crowd swells
around them, and I can’t see Drew’s reaction. I’m overcome with
jealousy. The green-eyed monster is definitely bubbling up inside
me. There have always been rumors in the tabloids that they
secretly had a thing for each other. Of course, each one has
vehemently denied them, but my mom always says where there’s smoke,
there’s usually fire. I feel like running away, but I sit in the
seat with what I hope is a neutral look on my face.

Sandra jumps to her feet and yells for
everyone to take their marks, and they all scramble to do her
bidding. I spy Drew talking to the cameraman. Angela is having a
young girl put color on her lips. How thoughtful of her to wait
until she kissed Drew so he wouldn’t have to remove it from his
lips.

The rest of the shoot is a blur. No longer is
it exciting. I feel like I’m watching two people madly in love. My
hands start to hurt, and I look down to see them pale white,
clenching the sides of the chair. The umbrella that’s attached to
my chair is no longer keeping me shaded, and I decide I’m going
back to the hotel, even if I have to walk back alone.

“Take five,” Sandra yells, almost bursting my
eardrums.

Drew walks away from Angela and makes his way
to me with a worried expression on his face.

“Dora, are you okay? You’re getting a little
sun,” he says, reaching up and angling the umbrella so I’m in the
shade again.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Great, I sound so
stiff and formal that he looks at me strangely.

“You don’t sound fine,” he replies, stroking
my cheek.

“I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m tired too,” a sultry voice from behind
Drew says. “Who is this little person? Did you finally get an
assistant like I told you to?” Angela moves beside Drew and lays
her head against his shoulder, looking at me like I’m
insignificant. She proves it by moving between us and putting her
hand up to his cheek. “Sweetie, I think we should go over to the
tent and get some refreshments and talk about our next session. I’m
not turning red, am I? I put maximum sunscreen on, and I wouldn’t
want this body to get burned.” She’s standing so close to him that
I want to drag her by her bottle-colored hair and beat the crap out
of her.

“You go and I’ll be there in a minute.” Drew
moves around her and leans down to me.

“Okay, but don’t be too long. I haven’t seen
you in days, and we need to catch up.” She doesn’t look back, but
walks toward the tent as if she’s walking down a runway.

“I’ll bring you something back to drink,
okay?” Drew kisses my cheek and then follows Angela like a little
puppy dog.

That seals it. I’m leaving. I don’t belong in
this world. I watch as he catches up with her and the
perfect-looking couple strolls into the tent together. I grab my
bag and make my getaway. Luckily, when I reach the top of the sand
dune, limos are lined up waiting to shuttle people back to the
hotel. I snag the one we came in. I say, “Hotel, please,” as I
settle in and he takes me there without question. I ask him to wait
for me, as I need to grab my things before heading to the airport.
He doesn’t bat an eye, just nods his head.

The maid has been busy. Our hotel room looks
immaculate. I quickly stuff all of my things into the carry-on bag.
With tear-filled eyes, I leave, taking a long ride to the
airport.

Flying back is so different. No plush seats,
just economy, but I’m lucky that a seat was available. Even though
I have to change planes, it’s worth it to get home.

Home
. I don’t want to go back to the
loft, and I don’t want to go back to my parents’, and I’m not going
to go to Julie and Kevin’s, so I call Jeff when I land, hoping he’s
not at the loft with Liam.

“I can’t believe you just up and left him
without leaving a note or anything.”

This isn’t the first time Jeff has said that
since he picked me up from the airport. All I can do is cry my
heart out and let him rant. “It was a shoot. Drew had to look like
it was real because that’s what he gets paid to do.” He hands me
another tissue at a stoplight and turns to look at me. “Dora, quit
bawling. Let’s talk this out.”

“I can’t. My heart is breaking,” I get out
between sobs.

“What else did he do? Did he say he and
Angela are an item? Did you even ask?”

“I don’t belong in his world. It was just a
fling, but now my heart is broken … again.” I finally catch my
breath, and though my heart is aching, my tears begin to
subside.