Relinquish(46)

“You must be Charlie.” My head snaps to look behind me, finding a man and a lady walking in behind us. The lady has black hair bunched on top of her head and she’s tall. Her face is in the shape of a kissing fish, or like she just ate something too sour. Her lips are dark purple, matching her purple dress which hugs her neck and falls to her calves. The man has dark-colored, spiked hair, the front of it splashed a bright red, and he’s much shorter. His black-rimmed glasses are too small for his face. My eyes trail down his small frame, noticing he’s wearing a pink shirt and dark blue jeans with green shoes. I quirk a brow at his choice of clothes. They’re very flashy.

“She doesn’t want to be a Barbie,” Landon mocks, a small smirk across his face. I purse my lips at him and roll my eyes. “Find me when you’re finished,” he demands, walking off with his hands in his pockets.

“What should we do with her hair? A bob maybe?” she suggests, tugging on a strand of my wavy hair.

“Oh, Michelle, don’t you dare touch her hair with scissors. We haven’t had the opportunity to work with such beauty before,” the man scolds, his eyes wide and mouth gaped open as he looks at my hair with awe. I’m stuck frozen while they argue over cutting my hair, scared they’ll hack it all off.

“Oh, Gabe, don’t be so dramatic.” Michelle rolls her eyes.

“Sit,” Gabe demands, pointing to the chair. I swallow hard, fighting my nerves, and sit in the chair. Jeez, is everyone around here so bossy?

For the next three hours, I am picked, prodded, waxed, and peeled. My entire body either burns or itches from all the beauty procedures I’ve endured. That massage table turned out to be a thing of nightmares. It’s where you lie to have hot wax torture. The only break I had was when a doctor came and took a blood sample then examined my private parts. Getting poked by a needle was the least painful of everything, strangely. I feel violated from head to toe right now.

“So, I’ll start the makeup if you want to go buy the wardrobe,” Michelle states, handing Gabe the chart with my body measurements on it.

“I’m on it. Oh, you should do a smoky eye shadow, but nothing heavy.” Gabe lights up, looking me over with excitement.

“I’m sorry, are you shopping or doing makeup?” Michelle props her hand on her hip and tilts her head to the side. Gabe rolls his eyes, throwing a hand at Michelle dismissively as he walks out of the room.

I feel like a doll being morphed into the perfect candidate for some lonely man. Even with all the glamour this place has to offer, I feel alone.

“You all right?” Michelle asks, her forehead wrinkling with worry lines.

I shrug and sit in the makeup chair. I haven’t said much the entire time, except to call her or Gabe a bitch when they yanked a strip of wax off my private parts. They’ve pretty much been doing all the talking while fighting over me like a piece of meat.

“It isn’t so bad, you’ll see.” She smiles, grabbing some makeup from her black bag.

“You mean you’ve—”

“No, I wasn’t an escort, but I’ve seen girls who were nervous at first, then a month later were in nothing but pure delight.” She pauses in her step and smiles wide. “You’ll see.” She nods excitedly.

I give a kind smile in return, but I’m not nervous. I’m not sure what I am, but nervousness isn’t one of the feelings I’m experiencing.

“I’ve seen women with some of the biggest celebrities around here getting their picture taken, going from nobody to somebody, all because of working here.” Michelle’s face widens as she rambles in excitement.

“Do you know Ring Ryno?” she asks, opening some of the eye shadow containers.

“The actor?”

“Yes, him. He’s one of the Blackwell clients, and he got one of the girls an acting job on the side of working here. She has a beautiful house and looks very happy, if you ask me.” Michelle shrugs.

I look down at my hands and bite my cheek. Is that supposed to make me feel better? I didn’t ask for fame, and I don’t care for high profiles to swoon over. I just wanted to pay my rent, not feel so lonely, and be free. Have some control over my life. But in the end, I’m owned again. Only this time, it’s not by the state. I’m owned by Landon Blackwell.

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom before we start makeup?” I question, turning in my chair to look at her. I need a moment alone, some fresh air maybe. I keep taking deep breaths, but I don’t feel as if I’m getting any oxygen into my lungs.

“No, go right ahead. It’s right across the stairs.” Michelle smiles, setting the makeup down. I tighten the robe they gave me to wear after the hot lava of wax treatment and head toward the bathroom.

“I’m just on my way to get some apparel, Mr. Blackwell,” echoes throughout the large house. I stop and peer over the banister, finding Landon stopping Gabe by the front door.

“How is she doing?” Landon questions, his hands in his pockets. His tone is laced with care, like he might actually be worried about me. I frown, not sure what to make of it.

“Beautiful. She looks amazing,” Gabe replies proudly.

“Hmm. I’m sure,” Landon remarks, running a hand over the nape of his neck. He looks almost nervous, and it’s kind of cute.

“I was thinking about getting a blue dress, or white, or maybe a short red dress with her dark hair—”