Page 87 of Passenger Princess

Shoulders back, tits out, you got this bitch,runs through my mind, and I remember why I'm here, what brought me here.

I'm Ava motherfucking Bordeaux.

I won an entire nationwide pageant on awhim.

I can handle a bunch of petty ass bitches who think they're better than everyone.

"After the incident, my security offered to teach me a bit about self-defense, and it's been one of the greatest things I've done. It taught me about how to be more aware of my surroundings and has given me the skills to feel a bit more comfortable and confident. If you're interested, I'd love to teach you guys a few basic moves so you can feel the same." The girls cheer, and slowly, the panic dissipates.

I've got this.

I can do this.

I just need…an assistant.

Finally, I hold a hand out toward the wings of the stage, locking eyes with Regina, her face in an ugly frown now, confirmation that she wanted me to flounder, wanted to teach me some kind of lesson.

But I'm a Jersey girl. I'm gonna bounce back when you give me an obstacle. I'm going to do it looking really fucking good, and I'm going to smile while I do it.

"Jaime, do you mind stepping out onto the stage to help me out?" I say with a smile. His arms move, dropping from his chest, and he shakes his head, mouthingabsolutely not. I give him wide eyes and try to convey,come on, Big Guy, help a girl out.

When he doesn't budge, I turn to the audience, not missing Anne's slight smirk at my attempt at trying to fix this mess I've been pulled into, and place my hands on my hips, showing a faux-disappointed look on my face.

"It seems my friend Jaime is being a bit shy," I say with a cringe, and the girls in the crowd play along with an exaggeratedawww. "Can you guys help me convince him to come help? Jaime, Jaime." I start the chant, but it doesn't take much more than that to get thiscrowd in on the fun, and soon, the entire room is loud with chants of Jaime's name.

I turn to where he stands, a slightly entertained look on his face as he looks at his feet and shakes his head. I'm prepared to turn back to the crowd and attempt the presentation on my own or to maybe force Anne into being my attacker (hell, it might even be preferable, considering how much I'd love to kick her ass) when he looks up at me and takes a step forward.

Hotanda team player? God, could he be any more perfect?

Instantly, when the girls see him, they start to cheer, and a blush comes over his cheeks.

"Say hello to Jaime, girls!" I shout, and in near unison, one hundred girls all yellhello, Jaime!

His arm lifts, and he waves, shifting from embarrassed to a bit of a ham, smiling wide and making me melt.

"Do you mind helping me show these girls a few moves?"

"Anything for you, Princeses," he says. It's a slip of the tongue, our personal comfort behind closed doors, but it plays perfectly into the characters we're playing right now, and I fuckingloveit.

When I look over his shoulder, Regina stands, her jaw tight and irritated.

I wink at her, enjoying my win just a bit too much.

FORTY-ONE

AVA

Jaime and I spent about twenty minutes showing the girls and the crowd in the gymnasium the basic moves he showed me. I encouraged all of the girls to fold up their chairs, stack them up, and partner up to try out the steps while Jaime and I walked around to ensure they were being performed correctly.

The day is a hit, with lots of giggles and excitement, all wrapped up in an afternoon I genuinely feel good about. This is something young people,especiallygirls, should know, and this is the perfect avenue to do it. Ideas start circling in my mind, but I'm distracted when a now-familiar reporter comes up to me, his jaw tight and an iPad in his hands.

"Hey, Miss Bordeaux, do you have a moment?" I turn to Preston Smith, a reporter for the American Star Magazine and an absolute haterof mine. "I'd love to get a few words about your presentation and thoughts on self-defense for young girls."

"Oh, absolutely, I'd love to." He's been at many of the events for the tour, but I'm not exactly excited to chat with him, seeing as most of the articles he writes for his paper haven't been exactlyglowingabout me.

"So you spent today teaching these young girls, ages eight to eighteen, about self-defense," he says.

It's not a question, but I answer it as if it were all the same.

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