Picture Perfect (13 page)

As per instructions, I pulled on a different top over my lace camisole and different shoes. I’d ditched the hat, letting my hair fly free. The moment I’d started to knot it, thinking he wanted something different, he’d said, “No, leave it. I like it that way.”

I worried my lip as we walked. We hadn’t spoken on the ride over, and the atmosphere had noticeably changed between us.

“Isn’t that your boss?”

I choked on a breath, drawing up short. “Where?”

He pointed. My eyes followed his finger to a newspaper dispenser, my fear replaced by curiosity. Squinting, I walked up to it, seeing Curtis’s weary face on the main page. “
Fox Hunt Entrepreneur Looking For Love Following Messy Divorce.”

I stared at it. Now his unintelligible ranting when attacking the other Fox made sense. I read the article, learning his wife had won custody of their son. She’d also apparently cleaned him out, taking more than half of his fortune in a settlement that included a hefty lump for child support.

“Wow,” I said quietly. “They always seemed so happy. Olivia and Alexander were his world. He treated them both like royalty.”

“Just goes to show you can’t always tell what’s going on in someone’s life just from looking at the outside,” Devin said.

“It seems like it came out of nowhere,” I murmured, remembering how Curtis brought his wife down to flaunt her for his gentleman patrons. She was always so elegant and charming, the picture of a wealthy lady. “They were the perfect couple, the perfect family, even. I’d thought they could have overcome anything.”

Devin’s expression tur
ned stony. Fire burned within his eyes as he stared at the newspaper. “Sometimes shit just gets broken and you can’t put it back together.”

There it was again, the bitterness in his voice. I turned to look at him, but he walked away. Yanking my gaze off the paper, I jogged to catch up.

His pace was quicker, more determined. He stared straight ahead, not looking at me.

I don’t know what made me say it, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You’ve had your heart ripped out. I get it.”

“Do you want more modeling hours?” he asked suddenly, steering the conversation out of stormy, uncharted waters. “Since yours got cut and all?”

I blinked, surprised. “Sure. I mean, you don’t have to.”

“It’s all right.” His mood seemed to lighten as he smiled. “I don’t mind.”

I swallowed hard, staring back at him as goose bumps spread over my skin.

“I need more photos anyway,” he added, staring ahead again.

“Oh. Of course.” I don’t know why I sounded so disappointed. What was I expecting? For him to actually think more of me? Did I even want that?

A camera flashed from the side, making Devin go pale as he drew to an abrupt stop.

A young man was standing a few feet away, his camera aimed right at us.

No, not at us - at Devin.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me back the way we’d come. “Let’s go. We can shoot another day.”

“Wait,” I protested as he tugged me along. “What’s going on? Who is that?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just go,” he said tightly.

We all but ran to the car, with the boy trailing us. “Mr. Thompson!” he yelled. “Mr. Thompson, can I have a word for the
Sanhope
News
?”

The
Sanhope
News
?

“A reporter?” I said. “Why is he wanting to talk to you? What’s happened?”

“Get in the car,” he clipped, unlocking it with the automatic button.

Tossing the gear into the back, we both climbed in. I barely managed to buckle my seat
belt before he gunned it out of the parking space. People stared at us as we drove past. “What was that?” I asked.

“I said don’t worry about it!” he snapped, looking on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

My mouth clamped shut, silenced by his outburst.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But I can’t tell you now, okay? I can’t.” He shook his head as he said it, sounding weak and broken.

His hand trembled against the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly I thought it’d snap.

I stared at his hand, then the rearview mirror, wondering what we were running from and what in the world the man who seemed to have everything had to be afraid of.

CHAPTER 15

Angel

I DIDN’T HEAR FROM
Devin for the rest of the weekend, but that didn’t surprise me. Coming in the kitchen Monday morning to find Tammara elbow-deep in bacon grease and scrambled egg goop did.

“Since when do you cook?” I asked, stuffing my notes in my bag. I’d been up since six a.m. reviewing for today’s quiz to keep the info fresh in my brain. Honestly, what kind of jerk gave a quiz the week after
spring break?

Tam’s face looked brighter, though she wore no makeup. She just looked… happier, the most I’d seen her in a long while.

“I used to cook all the time,” she said, shoveling the perfectly fried bacon onto two plates and then dumping the eggs into another preheated skillet. “I used to really love it, even considered being a chef. But then we found out Jason was sick, and when I decided to go to medical school instead, life kind of imploded. Hey, I picked up some pineapple-orange juice. Mind pouring us two glasses?”

“Sure.”

I zipped up my bag and retrieved the juice from the fridge and two glasses. “How’s Jason doing?” I asked softly.

The composure in Tam’s voice was rehearsed
. “Chemo wears him out, but treatment seems to be going well. They said the tumor’s shrunk.”

“That’s great,” I said, leaning against the countertop behind her. Her gaze remained focused on the fluffing eggs. “Will he get to come home anytime soon?”

“Don’t know. They want to keep him for a few more days to see how he responds to treatment. Eggs are ready.”

She scooped roughly equal portions onto our plates, and we carried them and the glasses to our small table. “I’m glad Jason was first on the list for the medical trial. He’s a sweet kid. He deserves the best treatment in the world.”

“And I intend to see it will never be anything less,” Tam said quietly, taking a sip of her juice. “How’s life being relatively Fox Hunt free?”

I sighed, picking at my eggs. “Better and worse. Better because I hate that job, but worse because it cuts back on my income.”

And better because it means I see less of Curtis.

“You’re lucky,” Tam said, popping a forkful of eggs in her mouth. “I’ve been thinking about looking for another job.”

I swallowed my bacon, relishing the aftertaste of maple and brown sugar. “But you’re almost done with school, at least until med school. You’ll be starting your apprenticeship this summer right after graduation.” The letter had come over the weekend and had been all Tam could talk about. I couldn’t blame her. She deserved it. But I also couldn’t help feeling odd about it, how all her dreams were falling into place and mine seemed further away than ever.

“I know,” she said. “And I’m grateful for what Curtis has done for me. The scholarship committee doesn’t realize that even with my family’s income, most of it’s eaten up by hospital bills. No way would I have been able to afford it on my loans.”

“… But?”

She polished off her food and tossed her fork onto the empty plate. “I’m just sick of the way people act around you when they know what you do for a living, like they think you’re brainless, desperate, or a slut. The closer I get to my goals, the harder it is for me to pretend to be someone else.”

“I hate to say this, Tam, but can you afford to stop pretending?”

She got up and rinsed her plate off before tucking it in the dishwasher. “No. I’ve been applying for other jobs for weeks, and nobody’s called me back with anything that pays enough. I just feel trapped.”

“That makes two of us,” I muttered.

“Hey, how have your photo
shoots been going?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Good.”

Tam’s expression turned coy. “Very good from the look on your face.”

“It’s nothing.” Not hungry anymore because my stomach was turning flips, I got up and dumped my food in the garbage when Tam turned her back. “We’re business associates, that’s it.”

“Do you want it to be something more?” she asked gently, swinging her purse and bag over her shoulder.

“He’s my boss. That’s it.”

She held up her hands, keys dangling from her fingers. “Hey, all I’m saying is that according to Erik, Devin seems like a great guy. Not all of them are assholes, you know.”

“I know,” I muttered, my heart twisting. I ignored the feeling, shoving it back until I felt nothing, and followed Tam out the door to school.

After a few failed attempts at discussing my nonexistent love life, she dropped the subject and focused on telling me about her date with Erik. They’d spent more time together this weekend, sneaking in coffee breaks or late night movies. As my best friend rattled on, I drummed my nails along the handrest in her car, unable to fully acknowledge the growing sense of resentment in my chest.

We parted ways
, and I slipped into my first class right as the lecture began.

Normally Elementary Music was one of my favorite classes, but my mind was everywhere but there. I kept slipping back into my daydreams, running this weekend over in my mind and trying to figure out why the reporter had been so adamant to talk to Devin. Thinking about him brought on the feeling of his fingers touching my skin, as if I would break, and the way he’d stared at me intently as he hovered over me, like a shield protecting me against the world.

Something broke inside me, as if the dam I’d held over my emotions cracked and let through things I hadn’t felt in years.

You don’t want to do this. You’re only going to get hurt.

Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him, or the way Devin made me feel, like I could be whole again.

I had sketched his name on my notepad for the seventh time when the door opened and the teacher paused in her lecture. “Doctor Marshall. How can I assist you?”

Every head turned around to find the department chair standing in the doorway. Dr. Marshall scanned the seats. “I’m looking for Ms. Angela Davis. I need to speak with her immediately.”

Everyone looked around while I hesitated, trying to catch my breath from where my heart had suddenly started racing. Finally standing and gathering my things, I followed her out the door, trying not to blush as every pair of eyes landed on me.

A million thoughts whipped through my head as we marched down the hall. Why had she summoned me? I couldn’t be in trouble academically because my grades were excellent.

So why did I have an increasing sense of dread with every footstep? An icy shiver rolled through me. Did it have to do with the incident with Lekowski the other
day? Did she still somehow think I was responsible for it?

I nearly tore my lip in half by the time we got to her office and shut her door. “Take a seat, please.”

Doing as she said, I plopped down into the plush leather seat, my legs feeling like lead.

She sat down and leaned forward on her massive cherry wood desk, folding her hands over a piece of paper. “Ms. Davis, I’ll get straight to the point. In December, you applied to the Nelson Memorial Scholarship Fund, which is, as you know, the most prestigious award we offer in this program.”

I nodded, holding my breath. That scholarship was my last hope at finishing my degree with Curtis cutting my hours. And Devin wouldn’t need a model anymore in a few weeks, leaving me worse off financially than I was.

She tapped her manicured fingers across the paper on her desk. “The committee was very moved by your essay…. So much they want to award you the scholarship.”

All the breath left me. “Really? Wow. I’m - I’m honored, ma’am.”

The elegant arch of her eyebrow rose a fraction, and her mouth remained set in a firm line. “I checked out your academic record to make sure you qualify, and your performance has been outstanding. You’re undoubtedly one of the brightest students we’ve had.”

My heart swelled with pride. The praise felt strange to hear. No one had ever complimented me before on my work ethic or good grades.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Her gaze narrowed, popping the elation in my chest like a balloon. I couldn’t quite place why until I analyzed the way she was looking at me. Like an insect.

Or trash.

Doctor Marshall cleared her throat and looked out the sunshine-filled window, rocking back and forth in her chair. The squeak of the leather was obnoxious in the sudden silence, like a pendulum ticking. “Another requirement of the scholarship is that the recipient uphold the highest moral values.” She looked at me stone-cold, drawing to a stop. “And that does not include bribing teachers for better grades with sexual favors.”

I was so stunned it took me a while to form a coherent response. “What are you talking about?”