Off Limits(73)
“G’day luv,” she said in her thick Aussie accent. “I see you’re rarin’ to go.”
“Hey, Karla,” I replied. “Listen, no offense today, but just, I’m in like a really bad mood, okay? So while I normally appreciate the little jokes and humorous insights you make, not today, please?”
“What’s going on?” Karla asked, her accent cutting by a third. I had always suspected she played up her Aussieness to have a unique advantage. I know it helped her on her Instagram account, where she had nearly half a million followers. The girl made a lot of money off that account, too. “I thought you’d be excited to work with your boyfriend for a shoot like this.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I replied shortly. “Didn’t the word get out?”
Karla shook her head. “I’ve been back home until this past Tuesday, doing some shoots for companies and sponsors in Sydney and Adelaide. What happened?”
“He did,” I replied simply. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now though, okay?”
“Okay,” Karla said. “But if you need some help, just tell me. I’ll be happy to try and get you to smile. Hey, did you see the shoot schedule? We’re doing the workout portion first. Hope you’ve been doing your Pilates.”
I shook my head in amusement. Karla knew that, despite the similarities in our physiques, our athletic backgrounds could not have been more different. She was a former volleyball player who still enjoyed doing sports or training daily. I, on the other hand, didn’t dare do too much. In high school I’d been into athletics, and it had cost me a few contracts since I added muscle too quickly for clients’ liking. So for me, the less physically active I was in order to keep decent muscle tone, the better. It did give me another option in modeling, however, as I grew older. In my mid-twenties, I could become more active and go into the fitness modeling scene, where having some more muscle was considered even sexier. It was appealing, honestly. I didn’t like not working my body.
“I’m just going to change,” I said instead, not being pulled into Karla’s banter. “Hey, who’s the guy we’re working with?”
“Greg,” Karla replied, “You remember him from the Body Glove campaign last year.”
I did. Greg was a nice guy, a total professional, and yeah, pretty cute. Best of all, he was everything Sydney wasn’t, so I didn’t have to worry about any of that. I pulled out my wear for the first half of the shoot, a cleavage-enhancing sports bra and running shorts that barely dropped below my butt cheeks before starting in on my hair and makeup. Despite what you may think, for most shoots models have to do their own hair and makeup. Only the superstars or the shoots for live television get makeup artists, everything else being corrected via Photoshop. Karla left and headed out into the shoot, giving me a bit of privacy to gather my composure.
I was mentally ready when she came back in, knocking on the door frame. She was in full-on Aussie mode, and I had to admit, rivals or frenemies or whatever, I liked her. “How’s ya togs, luv? No more sookin’, we want to get this done before the arvo.”
I gave Karla a smile, which she returned with a nod. “Good on ya, that’s what I was hopin’ for. All right now, boom boom, shake the room time.”
As the shoot went on, my temporary confidence started to take hammer blows. It seemed no matter what pose I was taking, or how I was trying to do things, Sydney was critical, having me hold poses or change positions on a constant basis. I could tell Greg and Karla were both getting annoyed, to the point I heard Karla mutter under her breath at one point, “Fookin’ wanker today, isn’t he?”
Regardless of whether Sydney was being overly critical or not, his words kept hammering at my self-confidence. Despite being a model, I’ve been accused of actually being really shy, which I’m not totally sure is true. I mean, I know I don’t like partying it up out in public, but just because I prefer to be at home instead of doing shots in a club and tearing up the dance floor, that doesn’t mean I’m shy, does it? But whether I’m shy or not, being constantly criticized by my ex-boyfriend, who was a silver-tongued devil and already knew all my mental buttons, just broke me down. I almost walked off set twice as he had me so upset.
Still, I had to admit the words created magic. When I was pissed off, especially in some of the workout scenes, it made me look fiery, aroused even. With the way Sydney had arranged me in relation to Greg, it looked like I was ready to tear his shorts off. When the last photo was taken of the bedroom scenes, I was exhausted and shaky, but ready for some comfort, even if it was from my mother or Derek.
Instead, when I came out of the dressing room in my casual shorts and Stanford t-shirt that Kade had given me for Christmas a few years prior, I found Sydney still there, putting away his equipment. “Alix, a moment, please.”
I wasn’t ready to talk to him. “No way, Sydney. If you have anything to say, you can go through my agent. And after the way you talked to me today . . . go to hell.”
I started to walk away, when suddenly he grabbed me from behind, twisting and pushing me up against the wall. “No, you don’t get to just walk away from me like that,” he seethed into my ear, pressing up against me. “Not unless you want our little private project to find the light of day.”
I was scared, shocked, and not thinking clearly. “What the he—” I started, before realizing what he was talking about.