Page 15 of The Billionaire's Desire

I heard a voice carry from outside the conference room and breathed a sigh of relief. It had to be Mia because no one else would dare make a peep knowing Missy was on the warpath. And when the voice got closer, louder, I recognized the high pitch of someone that really didn't give a damn.

"I've got this thing. No, I'm not partying...I'm not that bad,” she giggled. “Whitmore and Creighton. Yeah, from that show. I know...Jacob is HOT."

I tightened my grip on the armrest. Do not walk in here on your phone. Do not-

The giggles were at the doorway. Since everyone in the room was grimacing, I knew that she was adding insult to injury, breezing in late with her cell glued to her ear.

I was the only one that dared to look up from my folder and at our client. Mia had only crossed legal age territory four months ago. I could still remember clicking through news websites, making sure my mother was out of ‘Aha!’ distance and detouring to the gossip section.

She’d been so happy in her birthday pictures, flashing the paparazzi a peace sign to go with her hippie approved maxi dress and floral crown. There’d been rumblings that she was caught using a fake id, smoking, drinking--but who doesn’t test the limits at eighteen? It would have been way more bizarro if she was holed up having knitting nights.

But Mia embraced her newfound freedom a little too liberally, arms wide open as she plummeted into a world full of headlines like, ‘Mia’s Cry For Help’ and ‘Mia’s Sultry Mug shot’.

I didn’t think it was possible for her to look worse than the ‘stoned chic’ that had become her signature look, but the girl still yapping on her phone proved me wrong.

Her honey colored hair had been part of her character’s identity in Carolina, California. In the show, her agent was always trying to lighten it, make it edgier. She was a far cry from those soft curls now. Her hair was bleached to the point that it was a shade below white. It hung in stiff, bone straight layers--except for the right side of her head, buzzed painfully short. It didn’t match with her features. Instead of making her look rocker chick she just looked like she was trying way too hard.

Her makeup was just as heavy handed. Her foundation was slathered on to the point it was a mask, a prominent line beneath her chin where her application brush had come to a stop. The silver eye shadow was too heavy, too glittered and washed out her sky blue eyes. The false lashes were too much, the length tacky and jarring. Bright red lips were the icing on the cake, making her look like she should be working the streets instead of owning them.

And then there was her clothing. Her pants, shorts, whatever had been left at home. An oversized flannel shirt hung on her gangly frame, the greens and browns dingy and worn. She paired it with a pair of combat boots that looked like they’d been worn by an entire army before they passed on to Mia. Of course she didn’t need to be in her evening finest for a meeting, but considering the purpose was to repair her image, it would have been wise to NOT look like she’d just rolled out of bed and could care less.

She took in the room, her attention clearly still firmly on whomever she was talking to on the phone. I could feel the tension, thick and suffocating. I tried to draw her gaze so I could send her some sort of signal that now was not the time to be catching up with friends, but she was in her own world.

“Nah, it shouldn’t last too long,” she said with a shrug. “Why don’t I--”

“Get off the phone NOW.”

The growl from Missy made me want to crawl under the desk. She wasn’t playing around. Unfortunately, Mia didn’t pay any mind to the severity in her tone.

“Hold on one sec, Scott.” Mia held the phone away from her ear. “Excuse me?”

“Miss Kent,” Missy blazed, rising to her feet. “We have been waiting for you for over thirty minutes. This may be hard to believe, but our time is precious. You need to get off your phone, sit down in that empty seat and let us do our job.”

Mia just stood there, clearly unaccustomed to anyone giving it to her straight. But she didn’t move toward the chair--she slowly brought her phone back up, glaring at Missy. “I’m sorry about that. This lady’s freaking insane and--hey!”

I was sure my eyes were playing tricks on me because there was no way that Missy just snatched the phone from Mia’s hand. But she was right there, towering above the girl, holding the phone so tightly I was surprised it didn’t crumble between her fingers. I heard the muffled sound of whoever was on the other end before Missy won the staring stand-off and ended the call. She tossed the phone on the conference room table with a splat and returned to her seat.

Mia was still standing, fuming, but after a minute she yanked the chair back and sat down.

“Now, I’m going to introduce you to the team that will be working on your case,” Missy started. “I’m--”

“I don’t care who you--” She flung her hand. “--or anyone else in this room is. I just want to find out if I’m gonna get what I paid for.”

Missy’s dark eyes flashed, but she gave our new client a smile so sweet it was poison. “Very well. You can review contact information at your leisure. We’ll get right to it.”

Mia blew a bubble with her gum and popped it with an obnoxious snap. I unscrewed my bottle of water and took a long gulp.

“We’re here because of one reason and one reason alone. You are single handedly destroying your career.”

I nearly spat up my water. I wasn’t the only one surprised by Missy’s bluntness. A couple of gazes jumped from the folder before falling dutifully back down. And Mia--well, if she turned any redder, I was sure her head would explode.

“What did you just say to me?”

Missy calmly put one hand on top of the other. “I’m not gonna blow smoke up your ass. I know that the people around you tell you what you want to hear. That you’re okay. You’re a rebel. You’re trendy. You’re just being young, wild, and free.” Her tone darkened. “I’m here to tell you the truth. This little grunge number you’re rocking? You look like something the nineties threw up. Without our help, the only thing you’ll be is a one liner in comedic routines. The only singing gigs you’ll be offered is jingles for commercials. And as far as acting? A porn parody of Carolina, California.”

I was holding my breath, somewhere between ‘OH MY GOD…just…wow’ and ‘Oh my god did she just tell a client she was a hop, skip, and a jump away from doing porn?!’.

But Mia wasn’t holding her breath. I could tell from the way her body shook that she was breathing overtime, her tiny framed hunched over the table like she was contemplating lurching to the front and clawing Missy’s face off.

---