I have a bright pink sofa with a few black chairs in the waiting area. A variety of magazines lay scattered across the old trunk centered in the middle. I always knew my business needed to be somewhere I could relax, too. Plus, watching big badass men sit on a pink sofa is pretty fucking hysterical.
“Hey, boss lady!” I hear my newest employee, Tad, call out as I round the corner to the reception area. The image that greets me stops me in my tracks.
Tad has been with me for nearly three months now. He’s a great artist, almost thirty, a real party boy, but he does phenomenal work. It’s the only reason I’ve kept him for as long as I have. Oh, and the clients seem to like him as well.
His only real issue? The whore that follows him everywhere.
If I had to lay odds on whether she sucks more than his cock, I’d put money on it. She’s got the look that says, rode hard, put away wet. I can’t stand her. She’s whiney as hell, and every time she opens her mouth, I want to pop a dick in it.
Two weeks ago, she came in drunk or high, hitting on some badass biker I had been working on. His Ol’ Lady happened to be here, too and didn’t take very kindly to it. I don’t blame her. I told Tad she wasn’t allowed back again. Seems he doesn’t like to listen.
“Tad,” I warned, my eyes pointedly looking at the bimbo.
“I know, boss lady. She’s real sorry,” he tries to plead.
“I don’t care.”
“I only have two clients. She won’t interfere.”
“She can ‘not’ interfere by leaving,” I tell him, watching as she balls her fists at her sides. I’m pissing her off. Good.
“Do you even know who I am?” she whines.
“The more important question is, do I care?” I know who she is. Aside from being the town’s biggest slut, her father is a county judge. I couldn’t care less.
“You’re such a righteous bitch. Thinking you’re better than everyone else. You’re nothing but a frigid, little cunt. No one wants you. Why don’t you just pack up and leave?”
I try not to allow anyone’s opinion of me affect me, I really do. But every once in a while, when someone says those damn words—no one wants you—it stings my heart just a little bit. Makes my walls stand taller, become harder. I’ve heard them all my life because I’m different. For some reason, this time, they cut through me like a knife.
Why? Because of the two men waiting for me?
Maybe. I don’t want all of my insecurities on full display for the only men I’ve been attracted to in I don’t know how long. I hate feeling exposed, and tonight, I’m a little more vulnerable than usual due to this fucking fascination with them.
“I don’t think I’m better than everyone,” I begin to tell her. “Just you.”
“You bitch!” Tad yells at me this time. “She’s right. You are a stuck up, frigid bitch just out for attention. Don’t think we all don’t see how you act, and what you do here. You stick your snobby nose up at everyone else. It’s no wonder no one wants you.”
There are those words again. I know I’m defective. Having people point it out isn’t so great.
“Get the fuck out, Tad. You’re fired. Take the slut with you.”
Turning around, I crash into not one but two solid chests of muscles. Shit.
“You fucking bitch! You’ll regret this,” Tad calls as they slam back out the front door.
Just fucking great.
“Who the fuck is that douche?” Eli growls.
“No one.” I can almost feel the defeat running through my veins.
“Sure seemed like someone,” Greer points out.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s finish, and we’ll get you guys out of here.”
I make my way back to my station, ready to finish up and get them out so I’m able to lick my wounds in private. Logically, I know I shouldn’t let what they say bother me, but fucking hell is it hard to brush off.
I have listened to my parents and siblings remind me daily of how useless I am and how no one has wanted me most of my life. Hell, I left when I was eighteen to get away from them, and they haven’t minded up until now. Dad is up for promotion in the law firm he works for in Calgary, so they’re hounding me to become part of the family again. It would almost be believable if they didn’t allow their little digs to slip through when I speak to them, though.
“Cover up the tattoos,” my mom always complains.
“Strip the color from your hair,” my older brother David chimes in often and loud.
Last time I talked to Dad, he implored me to remove the metal from my face. According to him, I need to look more like a lady. Because a nose stud and eyebrow ring are so horrific?
“It fucking matters, sugar,” Greer growls, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face them.
He is right. It does matter.
It matters because my heart feels like it’s ready to explode.
It matters because it makes me feel like I’m nothing.
It matters because I would love for it not to be true.
I crave being worthy of someone like him, like Eli.
I’ve only known them for a couple hours, but I wish so hard that I could be who they want. Never in my life have I wanted to be someone different, to not be alone.
Eli