“Paisley, have dinner with me tonight.” His eyes are pleading.
I shake my head. “I can’t, Reese.”
“Why not?”
His thumb rubs against the top of my hand, grazing my knuckles with tenderness as his voice vibrates through me, searching for an answer.
“I work for you and Bellini, Reese. It’s not right.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He leans forward even more. “We would be so fucking right.”
Stealing a glance up at him, I see the need in his eyes, the yearning, the promises of how right we really would be together. My nerve endings start to ignite with lust. It would be so easy to give in, to let him take me back to his place, to allow myself the pleasure of getting lost in Reese King, but then I think about Jonathan and what he told me the first day I got back from my new job. I need this job, and I can’t do anything to forfeit it.
I shake my head and pull my hand away, disconnecting the flow of heat between us. “No, I can’t Reese. This has to remain professional. I’m sorry.”
I open my door just as Reese calls my name. “Paisley, wait.”
Not wanting to hear what he has to say, I shut the door on him and get in my car, never looking back. Because if I look back, I know it will be all over. I will give in.
Even though everything in my body is telling me to get back in his car and accept his invitation to dinner, to relish in the feeling of having Reese King wrapped around me, I hold out. I hold strong. I cling to that last tiny thread that’s holding me back from plunging deep into the world of Reese King.
**BELLINI**
“I’m drowning. Water is in my lungs. Someone help,” I call out, flapping around in the water, wondering why Reese is just floating next to me, not doing anything. “Man-fish, why don’t you save me?”
“Because you’re not drowning, Bellini. You’re perfectly fine, and if you don’t stop acting like a drama queen, we will never get through this. Kick your feet and propel yourself across the pool.”
“It’s too tiring, and the rubber flowers on my swim cap are starting to wilt,” I whine, not in the mood to play Flipper for the camera.
“Bellini, we need one more shot of you going down the pool with Reese,” Jasper calls out from the pool deck.
“Just one more lap down. Come on, Bellini, just do this and you’re done. I have a photo shoot I still have to do with Hollis and Bodi. Everyone is waiting.”
Frustrated with this entire “segment” for the show and Reese’s inability to sympathize, I grab hold of the concrete wall so I can easily prop my head above water. “What the hell have you incompetent camera men been doing this entire time? I’ve been swimming for the past half hour, my entire body looks like a dried-up raisin, and I’m sure I’ve increased the chances of having skin cancer under this melting sun by at least fifty percent. You’re telling me you need my tired-out and chlorine-chapped body to float down this ringworm-infested pool one more time? What are you getting paid for?”
Sighing, Jasper steps in front of me and squats down to my level. “Bellini, remember what we talked about? What Jonathan reiterated? The longer you keep us here with your dramatic antics, the more you will get charged for holding up production.”
Tears threaten to fall. How dare he!
“Don’t cry,” he says in a calming voice. “I understand you’re tired and hot and want to get out of the pool, but this piece will be great for ratings. We can do the gym portion another day. Let’s just get you going down the pool one more time. Can you do that?”
I sniff, willing myself to calm down before I turn blotchy from irritation. “You realize this is like working in a sweatshop, right? The conditions I have to work under are preposterous and hazardous to my health. You treat me like your little lab rat, thinking of different ways to torture me. Do you even have any moral boundaries? Or is your heart a cinder block hole where slave drivers from the past reside?”
“Bellini . . .” Reese begs. “Please let’s just finish this.”
I shoot a look over my shoulder and shoot daggers at him. “I will swim when I want to swim.” I turn back to Jasper. “Can’t he just pull me down the pool? Look at my arms. They’ve boiled down to over-cooked noodle status. You would think this vat of water would be cold, but under this godforsaken sun it has turned into a pressure cooker. Please just let me be done.”
“One more time down the pool and you’re done.” Jasper doesn’t let up, tipping me over the edge.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I scream at decibels that can crack glass, splashing water with my hands, making sure to get Jasper wet in the process.
Everyone on the pool deck stops what they’re doing and turns to look at me. Crew members from my show and the photo shoot setting up to the side for Reese afterward, spectators, and family members all stare at me.
Any other person would wilt under the pressure of the human race observing them as an outsider, but not me. I thrive off it. I want the attention; I crave the attention.
I DESERVE the attention.
I bring the back of my hand up to my forehead and sigh. “If you’re requiring me to take one more lap in my state of mind and physical handicap, than I guess I have no choice.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Reese shake his head in disappointment and I make a mental note to talk to him later about the way he’s making the audience perceive our relationship. Even though it’s fake, he needs to treat it like it’s real. I will be damned if he will make a fool of me.
“You’re so brave,” Pocket calls out from the side.
I raise my fist to the sky, showing off my strength and then take my position next to Reese who looks like an imbecile just floating there.
“Ready?” he asks.
I turn my head away from him in defiance and wait for Jasper’s cue.
“Action.”
Just like the ten other times I swam the length of the pool, I kick my feet and doggy paddle my way down the pool, taking my time, and refusing to get my hair wet. Reese is swimming backward, encouraging me, and putting on a good face for the camera, all the while, calling me cute nicknames, which grates on my nerves.
“Almost there, sweetheart.”
If he weren’t incredibly attractive and popular, I would pop him in the nose. Yes, he might sound sweet to everyone else, but I can read that condescending tone anywhere. Lately he’s been giving me more sass, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s getting nervous about his stupid swim games coming up, or if he’s just turning into a type-A bastard like the rest of the men in this world.
I finally make it to the end and everyone cheers for me as Jasper yells cut.
Exhausted, and practically suicidal, I grab on to the edge of the pool and beg for help. “I need an air lift,” I call out. “I can’t possibly extract myself from this hell.”
“I’ll help you,” Reese says next to me.
Before I can protest, he hoists my body out of the water and flops me down on the pool deck so I roll across the steaming hot concrete a couple times.
“You barbarian!” I cry, outraged from his manhandling.
With a quick push up from the side, he’s out of the pool and walking toward the photo shoot, stopping to shake hands with Jasper briefly.
“I have your towel,” Pocket calls out, falling to the ground next to me and covering my body.
I lie on the searing concrete, dazed and confused. Practically delirious from the strenuous job I have.
A shadow casts over me and through blurry eyes I see it’s Jasper. “Good job, Bellini. We will talk about tomorrow’s setup. Get some rest.”
He walks away without letting me speak my mind. In a blur, Pocket helps me up from where I’m lying, walks me over to my chair, and sits me down. Carefully, she takes off my swim cap and offers me water.
“I can’t believe they made you swim for so long.”
“I think I saw death at one point,” I answer, leaning back in my chair and looking up to the sky. “I need to get my lawyer to look over those contracts again. And after a long night of researching lesbian bars, I can’t keep up with this kind of demand. I’m only one person.”
“But think of all the good you’re doing.”
“True.” From the side, I see Mauve approaching. “Pocket, quick, hand me my flag.”
Scurrying behind me, Pocket digs into my purse and then places a small rainbow flag in my hand just in time for Mauve to walk up and see me waving it.
“Hello, Mauve. How are you doing?”
She glances at the flag and asks, “I’m fine. Why do you have that in your hand, waving it around like you’re in a parade?”
I laugh. “Oh Mauve, it’s called gay pride. I want to make sure you feel comfortable around me. I’m pro-vaginas touching. I’m waving your colors for you. It’s to show my support for you.”
“Such a humanitarian,” Pocket compliments me from behind.
What I expect to happen is for Mauve to lighten up, maybe brush her hair from time to time, and applaud my decision to be an activist for her rights, but instead, she ignores me and opens up her notebook.
“Tomorrow, Jasper and the crew will be over around noon. Melony, will be at the house around eleven for hair and makeup. They want to record you having a conversation with your dad about your swimming lessons with Reese. He’s already been informed. Wear something comfortable and casual, something you would wear while lounging around the house. I’ll arrive around ten thirty. If you need anything before then, let me know. I have to finish up the photo shoot with Reese, and then I’ll be heading home. Oh, and your dry cleaning is in your car.”
“Um, are you not going to react to my blatant display of generosity?” I wave the flag a little faster, this time in her face.
Mauve pushes my flag down and leans closer. “Bellini, that’s not . . .” She looks around and then I realize what’s going on.
“Oh my God, no one knows you like ladies.” I place my hand on my chest flabbergasted.
Mauve cringes, looks around one more time and then nods. “Yup, so, if we could just keep this between us, that would be great.”
She wants to keep this a secret? I guess I can do that. But who really wants to live a life in secrecy?
“Well, I was unaware. I thought since you wore combat boots in public, you were telling everyone about your personal choices.”
“You know it’s not a choice, right?” she asks.
I wave my hand at her. “Nature versus nurture, whatever. Now, stop standing in front of me, you are blocking the spectators’ view of my divine body in this Missoni striped bandeau halter-top bikini I’m wearing.”
“So you will be ready for filming tomorrow?”
I cock my head to the side and study her. “Are you aware of these two pieces of cartilage hanging off the side of my head? They’re called ears. They unfortunately help me hear your lackluster monotonous voice every time you squawk at me. Of course I will be ready. If anything, I’m a professional. Now beat it, before I renege on my flag waving. You’ve annoyed me.”
With sealed lips, she nods and walks away.
“Ugh, why I decided to take that lesbian under my wing is beside me. She’s exhausted me even more. Pocket, bring me my Tic Tacs. I’m hungry for lunch.”
**REESE**
“Your assistant is hot,” Hollis says next to me, snapping the waistband of his Speedo against his skin and staring blatantly at Paisley. If Bellini and the entire production crew weren’t here, I would slam him up against the wall and tell him to pick another woman to stare at. “Seriously, look at her ass, it’s like two volleyballs sitting in a pair of barely there denim shorts.
Didn’t I fucking know it? Today has been absolute torture, and not just because Bellini has been a nightmare since she got to the pool, but because Paisley chose to wear a pair of denim shorts cut so short that I swear, if I stared long enough, I would be able to see her butt cheek. Then, to go with the short shorts, she wore an equally revealing hot pink tank top that scooped low for the sleeve, showing off her black lace bra and bare side. Not the most professional outfit, but then again, it was hotter than fucking hell today, hence the early swim.
After the terror of Bellini in the pool swimming next to me, and hanging all over my arms praying to Pope Francis to save her, I don’t get to go home and relax. Instead, I get to pose with Hollis, my best friend, and Bodi, for a GQ article regarding the upcoming Olympics.
Hollis is a diver, the best in the world, and given our relationship, his success, and our popularity with the female population, they want to feature us. Bodi is an easy add-on, since the media loves to play up our rivalry. Well, that and the multiple Olympic gold medals under his belt.
King versus Banks, the Yankees and Red Sox of the pool. It’s always been a battle between us. He’s been to two Olympics and I’ve been to three so far. This is my send off. The media is having a field day with the rivalry and my last goodbye.
Even though on camera it seems like Bodi is my arch nemesis, in reality I have no beef with him. We’ve hung out a couple times, swam together during the past two Olympics, and I can’t say anything truly bad about the man, besides the fact that when it comes down to it, he keeps robbing me of my gold.
“What color are her eyes?” Hollis continues. “Are they, grey? Looks like it. Shit, that’s hot.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” I mumble under my breath, trying not to let the set designers hear me.
“Whoa.” Hollis holds up his hands. “Did you change your tampon before you got in the pool? Don’t want you menstruating all over the place.”
Hollis is my boy, but right about now, I want to plow my fist through his face. I’m not in the mood. Paisley has been radio silent since we had our puppy play date, rejecting me once again. Bellini has been an absolute nightmare today, and all of my physical energy is directed toward not sporting a chub with Paisley walking around like some sinister goddess, wisps of black hair falling over her face and her tattoos perfectly placed on the curves of her body.
It hasn’t been easy. Hell, ever since I’ve met Paisley life hasn’t been easy. I haven’t been able to focus. My swimming has been pure shit, and all I can think about is how I’m grateful I’m in the middle of tapering because my coach would be on my ass about my mental game.