Page 46 of My Totally Unfair Deal

“And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to go back to a world where I don’t have to put on airs just to get people to treat me with a basic level of respect.”

Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven bursts. I see it now—flashes of pain behind all that fire in her eyes.

“This is the part where you let go of me, Mr. Jones,” she says, trying to pull away.

“We’re on a first-name basis, Eliza.” I don’t release her. “I’m sorry about what happened, but I need you to give me twenty minutes to fix it.”

“I need to call Janey. And I need at least two hours to myself.”

“That’s fine.” I finally let her go. “Just meet me in the living room when you’re done.”

TWENTY-ONE

ELIZA

Harrison is leaning back on the couch, staring at his phone, when I make it to the living room. His shirt is half buttoned, exposing a sculpted chest that looks like it belongs in a cologne ad.

I can’t help staring at it, wondering what it would feel like under my fingers—warm, hard, distracting—until he looks up and says, “Like what you see?”

“I was looking at the painting behind you.”

“The wall behind me doesn’t have a painting.”

“Anyway—” He clears his throat. “I called in some help. Frederick Silo is the king of this type of shit. He used to turn people into polished, marketable myths for a living.”

“So he’s retired?”

“Something like that…” His voice trails off, and before I can ask what the hell that means, the doorbell rings.

He walks over to answer it, and a salt-and-pepper-haired man in a pink suit struts inside like he owns the place. Three women in beautiful cream dresses and matching stilettos follow him, their movements perfectly choreographed.

“Frederick Silo has arrived!” he announces, bowing like he’s taking the stage. “Why don’t I hear applause?”

The women clap obediently, and I mouthYou’ve got to be fucking kidding meto Harrison.

“It’s good to see your ego’s larger than ever,” Harrison says. “Here I was thinking that time would make you more modest.”

“I’m tired of waiting for the world to realize how phenomenal I am,” Frederick replies, unbothered. “I know what I’ve done, and I deserve endless praise.”

“He is amazing.”

“His contributions are otherworldly.”

“We are lucky to be in his presence,” the women say in unison, as if on cue.

“Anyway—” Harrison rolls his eyes. “Are you clear on everything I need you to do?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been looking forward to this all week!” Frederick beams. “What time is your client arriving?”

“She’s already here.”

He scans the room, then peers down the hallway. “Is she in the restroom?”

“She’s right there.” Harrison points at me.

Frederick’s mouth parts like I just insulted couture itself.

His minions exchange confused looks behind him, uncertain whether to gasp or bow.

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