99 Percent Mine(49)

He uses a pair of scissors from his new desk. No wild gnawing. So civilized. “How’s business? Is there good money in underwear?”

He tips a few into his palm; succulent, delicious, and pink, and I want them. I’m drooling for the flavor in his mouth. A guy from the crew calls his name outside, the bleat of a lamb with no shepherd.

“Yes, weirdly. I’m loaded.” Truly rummages in her purse. “I actually brought a present for Darce. Take a look.”

She hands Tom a pair of Underswears—the striped nautical ones from her last release. He must have big hands because when he pinches the waistband on each side, the underpants look tiny. I know full well that when I pull those up, I’ll have no belly button and a three-foot-high backside.

Truly grins. “I know that’s technically a compliment, and against my company charter, but …”

“Let’s see. Oh, that’s cute.” He’s found the little anchor charm. My underwear in his hands. He turns them, and we both see she’s screen-printed “Really Not” above human flotsam.

I finally find my voice again. “I really am. Thank you. Another one-of-a-kind pair.” I tuck them in my top drawer, along with all my other wearable paychecks.

Tom chews and considers the array of bad words on the screen as I scroll through again. “I really would have thought you’d make a more … uplifting collection than this.”

Truly knows what he means. “Oh, you mean like skimpy lilac underpants with goddess spelled out in sequins? But then I’d completely miss my target market. Snarky girls, like Darce, who don’t want a wedgie.”

Her phone chimes and she glances at it for a long moment. I sense conflict and frustration in her as she pockets it. “Why does everyone say I should make nice underpants?”

“Probably because you’re a sweetheart,” Tom says, matter-of-factly, and Truly blushes hot pink down to her skeleton. My bones turn neon green. That’s one thing I’ll never be: a sweetheart. How is it so easy for these two?

“I don’t deserve candy,” he says, pouring the rest of the bag into his mouth. “I’ve been such an asshole lately. I deserve a bad word on my butt.”

Truly blinks. “Are you psychic? That’s what I’ve come to butter up Darcy about. The brand consultant wants a men’s sample included in the lookbook.”

“Dudes don’t wear funny underwear,” I scoff.

“I just said I’d wear some.” Tom folds his empty candy packet.

Truly nods, glad of his support. “I think there might be a market, too. I’ve been working on a pair for a while now, so I had a pattern. This is the first-ever men’s pair. You know what I’m going to need now, Darcy.”

She sidles up to me, opening another bag of candy. I open my mouth like a baby bird and she stuffs some chewy pineapples into my beak.

“Don’t make me.” I make crying noises through the sugar. “Don’t.”

“What’s the issue?” Tom walks up to the door. “Yeah, give me one minute,” he calls up to the house. There are a million things up at the house he needs to do, but he’s getting tangled up.

“Quit being nosy.” There’s no point in wasting time with me. “Go back to work.”

“Casting male models is her worst nightmare,” Truly tells him. “Whenever she’s put calls out for male models in the past, she’s gotten photos of dicks in response.”

“It’s true. Just dick after dick.” I look at my computer, my watch, and then her face. I ignore Tom’s crossed arms. “Do I get any more time?”

“No,” she says regretfully.

“Can I do a flatlay?” Even as I say it, I shake my head. “No, they’ll look crap beside the model shots. Okay, leave it with me. I’ll sort it out.”

“Are you sure you’re not tiring yourself out?” Again, Tom’s fingers are on my shoulder. Again my tank disobeys and slips off. “I think you’re on less sleep than me at the moment.”

“If only you had someone on-site here who could do it,” Truly says to me, slowly and speculatively. She turns and looks at Tom. “Someone really close by. Someone in good shape, who wears an XL.” She narrows her eyes at his waist.

Tom is never going to buy into this nonsense. I save him the embarrassment of saying no. “He’s too busy for this.”

“Tom …,” Truly starts in a sweetheart voice.

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s coloring up. “My butt is very flattered to be considered for this, Truly. I’m not sure it’s up to your standards.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say in disbelief. Seriously. Has the man never reached back and felt what he has there? “We’ll let you get back to work. I’ll just trigger the dick tsunami.”

Truly rushes to reassure him. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you’re really the best man for this job. Please, just let Darcy take one photo of your butt and I’ll buy you a steak dinner.”

“Hmmm,” Tom says. “Steak.” I think he’s trying to not laugh. I probably look like I’m about to start screaming. “What do I have to do?”

“It’s easy,” Truly jumps in. “Just stand there. Don’t even suck your stomach in. My site is only real bodies. The models we use aren’t tiny sample sizes. And Darce only uses minimal Photoshop. Real bodies,” she repeats emphatically, looking at his groin.