Unleash Me, Vol. 1 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series) (6 page)

“
They
’
re perfect,
”
Bernie
said, admiring the suit and the shoes.
 
“
I
already know what I
’
m
going to do.
 
One question
—
at
the shoot, will there ever be a moment when she
’
s shot in natural light?
”

“
Never.
”

“
Je
t
’
aime
,
”
he
said.

“
Le
mem chose
.
”

“
Je
t
’
adore
.
”

“
Tu
savais je t'aime plus
.
”

“
Lisa,
”
he
said,
“
if
you could just sit in this chair, we
’
ll begin.
”

*
 
*
 
*

When Bernie was finished with me, I
looked at myself in the lighted oval mirror before me, unable to believe the
transformation that had taken place.
 
As usual, Blackwell was right.
 
Whatever I had done to myself at home had nothing on what Bernie had
done to me now.

My blonde hair had been pulled
tightly away from my face with the use of some sort of gel that made my hair
shimmer.
 
My hair was long enough
that it went just past my shoulders, but now it was bundled up in a smart
chignon held so close to the base of my neck that it felt like a vise grip.

My makeup was clean, youthful, and
fresh, but with the edge Blackwell wanted.
 
My eyes were dusted with shimmering silver eye shadow.
 
False eyelashes had been applied to my
upper and lower lids for dramatic effect.
 

But my lips were the real
statement.
 

Bernie had painted them red before he
’
d applied real
diamonds to them.
 
The effect was as
dazzling as it was ridiculous, over-the-top, and inconceivable.
 
Larger diamonds dotted the outer
periphery of my lips, and gradually became smaller as my lips came
together.
 
There must have been
fifty of them.
 

I
’
d never seen anything like it before.
 
I shot him a look of concern.
 
“
Will they fall off when I speak?
”

“
Not
a chance.
 
Stretch out your mouth,
”
he
said.
 
“
Smile for me.
 
That
’
s right.
 
Now,
talk to me.
 
Scream at me.
”

“
I
’
m talking to you, and
now I
’
m
screaming at you!
 
I
’
m opening my mouth as
wide as I can, and nothing is falling off.
 
OK, now I
’
m
screaming even louder.
 
Everyone on
this floor can hear me at this point.
 
How in the hell did you do this?
 
Everything is staying in place.
”

“
I
never reveal my secrets, but they won
’
t move until Barbara or I remove them from you.
”
 
He turned to Blackwell.
 
“
Do you approve?
”

“
Oh,
yes.
 
Oh, yes, indeed.
 
This is what the kids are going to want
to look like.
 
This is what will
draw interest to her and her books when we go forward with the advertisements.
”

“
Then
she
’
s
all yours.
”

“
We
have only minutes left,
”
she
said to me.
 
“
Come over here.
 
Quickly.
 
You
’
ll dress here.
”

“
In
front of you two?
”

“
It
won
’
t
be the first or the last time, so get over it.
 
Jennifer did.
 
Now hurry.
”

Five minutes later, Blackwell was
putting the final touches on the silk scarf that rounded my neck.
 
She did it just as I
’
d seen in the
magazines
—
a
thick band of black rounded my throat, and the rest of the material tumbled
down my back.
 

“
Stand
in front of this mirror here,
”
she
said.

It was a full-length mirror just off
to the side.
 
I stood in front of
it, barely recognizing myself.
 
Nothing made sense.
 
It was
as if they
’
d
created another person.
 
Since this
was a shirtless tuxedo, I had only one concern.
 
“
Will my breasts pop out?
”

“
What
breasts?
”

“
They
are there, Barbara.
”

“
Really?
”

“
Really.
”

“
Fine,
”
she
said.
 
“
Whatever.
 
I
’
ll go along with the illusion that you have anything up top
only because I agree that the last thing we need is a wardrobe
malfunction.
 
Let me use a bit of
two-sided tape.
 
Bernie, my love,
tell me you have some.
”

“
Of
course I do.
”
 

I heard some rustling, and heard her
murmur something to him, then she applied the tape, pressing it firmly against
my skin and the inside of my jacket.
 
When she took a step back to appraise me, she said,
“
You
’
re good.
”

“
I
love it.
”

“
What
a relief.
 
Because guess what,
Hooters?
 
We
’
re officially out of
time.
”

She went over to Bernie, gave him an
air-kiss on each cheek, and then reached for my hand.
 
“
Everything changes for you now.
 
Before you know it, your face will own a
major piece of the
Times
and Times Square.
”

“
My
face will what?
”

“
You
heard me, and I already warned you, Lisa.
 
Soon, you
’
ll
be the girl that nobody knew, but that everyone suddenly wants to know.
 
I told you we were going to turn you
into a star, and I meant it.
 
Oh,
get that look off your face.
 
Get it
together.
 
Why do you look horrified?
 
I need you to be present.
 
We sign contracts, everyone shakes
hands, and then you and I are off to the meatpacking district.
 
Aura
’
s studio is there.
”

“
I
’
m going to the
meatpacking district with these lips?
”

“
Those
lips are going to make you, your face, and your book go global.
 
Your writing will speak for itself, and
you already know how I feel about the book Wenn optioned.
 
You
’
re goddamned good.
 
Got it?
 
OK.
 
Take a breath, come back into yourself,
and trust Bernie and me.
 
We
’
ve set you up for
greatness, not ruin.
 
Are you ready?
”

“
I
’
m ready,
”
I
said.
 
And for the first time that
day, I actually believed it.

“
Then
let
’
s
go,
”
she
said.

*
 
*
 
*

When we went to Wenn Publishing on
the twenty-first floor, the blur began.

I signed the contracts my lawyer had
already approved, saw the ridiculous amount of money that was being offered to
me, and then, for the first time, met my new editor, Marco Boss, who was indeed
as tall and as muscular as Tank.
 

This is an editor?
I
thought.

He was a towering brute of a man,
perhaps even taller than Tank.
 
He
had thick, wavy dark hair that curled up from his forehead, full lips, a strong
jaw, blue-green eyes, a chest that was as broad as a map of America, and he was
nothing if not in shape.
 
He was
older than I was
—
probably
mid-thirties
—
and
everything about him exuded a raw kind of sexuality, strength, and power.
 
As committed as I was to Tank, I
’
d be lying if I said
that I didn
’
t
find him wildly attractive.

And then he opened his mouth.

“
Lisa
Ward?
”
he
said to me.

Somehow his voice was deeper than
Tank
’
s,
which was unfathomable to me.
 
Tank
’
s voice was almost
primal.
 
It was made of timber and
brick.
 
But Marco
’
s voice?
 
His went several notes deeper.
 

“
Yes.
 
I
’
m Lisa.
”

He extended his hand to me.
 
“
Marco Boss.
”

I shook his hand, which engulfed
mine.
 
“
It
’
s a pleasure.
 
I
’
ve heard so much about you.
”

“
I
wonder if you
’
ll
think it
’
s
such a pleasure in a minute or so,
”
he said.
 
He
folded his arms and looked down at me.
 
“
Why
are you dressed like that?
”

“
I
was
—”

“
And
what
’
s
going on with your lips?
 
And why
are you practically naked?
”
 
He looked around him.
 
Blackwell was there, as was my lawyer,
several of Wenn Publishing
’
s
lawyers, and a few other people I didn
’
t know.
 
The
mood darkened.
 
Suddenly, I wished
that Tank was there with me, but he wasn
’
t.
 
Neither was
Jennifer.
 
It was just Blackwell and
me, but she had yet to speak.
 

Will she?
 
I wasn
’
t sure.

“
What
is this?
”
Boss
said.
 
“
A joke?
 
Today
’
s photo shoot is for the
Times
and Times Square for
Christ
’
s
sake.
 
She looks more like a clown
than an author.
”