Page 94 of Bombshells
He throws up his hands. “Say whatever you want. I know you were waiting for this to happen.”
“What?” I grab the soda that Petra left for me and take a gulp. “Why the fuck would you say that?”
“You think I’m stupid to turn it down before. You think I’m crazy to stay single and live in a cheap apartment.”
“I never said that.” But I totally thought it. Still. “Do I look like a guy who has everything all figured out, though? Who’d listen to me, anyway?”
The door flips open beside me, blasting cold air all over us. “Hey guys!” Bess says, oblivious to the uncomfortable conversation we’re having. “How is everyone?”
Campeau lifts a stiff hand in greeting. Although, since he looks a little stiff even on his best days, Bess probably doesn’t notice that he’s off tonight.
And anyway, Bess is waving at Castro across the room now. “Come see these photos I got back today! You too, Bombshells. The Brooklyn Outfitters campaign looks smokin’ hot!”
Tank, her husband, gets up from the table he’s sharing with O’Doul. “Show me these photos, babe. I don’t think any of these chuckleheads can top my modeling career.”
“I am partial to a certain photo of you in tight green underwear,” she says, pulling a portfolio out of her backpack. “But we’re going for a different look here.”
Charli skates over to Bess and Tank. “I want to see! That photographer made Sylvie look like a goddamn supermodel.”
At that, Campeau perks up, too. He pushes back his stool. And a couple of minutes later the whole bar is surrounding Bess as she opens the portfolio.
I hang back, though. It’s crowded, and I don’t really need to see photos of myself posing on the set wearing two-hundred-dollar sweatpants and a tight T-shirt, even if I had a blast doing it.
And I really don’t want to see those pics of Sylvie, unless it’s just the two of us looking at them together. I’m never going to be able to think about that day without remembering how turned on I was when she looked back at me. And how fearlessly she just went with it—mirroring my supercharged libido right back to me like a weapon.
I don’t think I can stand in mixed company and remember that afternoon without everyone reading that memory right off my face.
“Here’s Samantha!” Bess says, and I hear applause from the Bombshells who’ve gathered around to see. “And Charli. And who knew Sylvie walked a catwalk in her previous life.”
“Whoa!” say several of the onlookers at once.
“Hot!” calls out one of my teammates.
“Let’s see… Ladies and gentlemen, Anton Bayer.”
There’s some good-natured hooting from my teammates, several of them look in my direction to rib me. “Work it, baby!” Crikey calls.
But then I spot Campeau’s mouth, which is twisted into a snarl. He walks unsteadily back to the bar, glaring at me.
Whoa. Does he know that…
“You took my sponsorship,” he spits.
Wait, what?
“Wait, what?” I say. “Bess asked me to fill in. She was in a jam. I didn’t think it was that important.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t think anything is important. That’s the problem with you.”
“Bryce, Jesus.” I put my glass down, because it’s obvious that we’re done here. He’s drunk, and in the shittiest mood I’ve ever seen him.
Way to push my buttons, though. He couldn’t have landed that punch any better if he’d tried.
I weave my way through the bar once again. Sylvie is surrounded by her teammates, so I can’t easily get near her to say hello. They’d make way if I were her boyfriend.
But I’m not. And that’s my own decision, I guess. Doesn’t feel like a good one now.
I find my jacket on a hook near the pool table. “Leaving already?” Crikey asks, following me back toward the front. As if I hadn’t been here three hours already.
