Glitter on the Web (37 page)

“Stop it!” I giggled, playfully slapping his arm.

“No way. Next up is Tom Jones,” he warned, before promptly launching into his best lounge singer rendition of “
What’s New, Pussycat
.” By then people were filming us with their phones. I shook my head. He was absolutely hopeless.

“Come on, my fearless girl,” he urged as he held me tight. “I’ll be there to catch you.” He kissed me, much to the delight of the crowd. He indicated to them with a nod of his head. “Imagine what it will show every girl like Gabby out there who wonders if they’re able to be daring and adventurous, even despite their size.”

I gave him a playful glare. “Oh, that’s dirty pool.”

He smiled wide. “I never play fair.” He brushed the hair from my face. “Sometimes a girl needs a win without the help of her man. Sometimes her man needs to see her win. And sometimes the world needs to see her win.”

The bastard had a point. “Fine,” I conceded.

He clapped like a little girl before he leaned closer. “You are so getting laid tonight.”

True to his word, he jumped first. He hooted and hollered all the way down, a complete adrenaline junkie. I’d already seen that side of him before. He was a great big kid who liked living on the edge.

I mostly jumped because I was less scared of stepping off into space than I was of how I felt for Eli. If I smashed into the ground, I was off the hook.

Of course, that was easy to say until I stood on the platform looking down. I was trussed up in a harness, wearing complete safety gear, but I was about to defy the laws of nature and common sense, plummeting towards the earth in terrifying free fall. This was literally taking a step on faith. “Take that step and you can do anything,” Eli had told me. “Show the world you can do anything.”

I accepted the challenge. Maybe it would make it easier to leave him when our year was over. If not, I prayed the death would be quick enough to be painless.

I took a breath. Let it out. And stepped into thin air. For a brief second I felt completely weightless, like a wily coyote might have felt after he chased a roadrunner off of a cliff. Then I was zipping down the line all the way to the ground below. Despite the harness, which helped the descent, particularly when I approached to land, I screamed all the way to the bottom. Eli jumped up and down waiting for me, recording me with his phone to show the world what I had done.

He grabbed me up into his arms the second he could. “That’s my girl!” he yelled as he spun me around. He kissed me and the crowd that had gathered to watch us applauded. “She can do anything,” he told them. “She’s fearless.” He bent for a kiss, which, for me at least, was yet another leap of faith.

Only there was no harness on this ride.

By time we got back to the hotel, we were trending on social media again. This time I didn’t mind. Hopefully Gabby would get wind of it. Maybe it would inspire her. It was a lie, but like all fairy tales, it was a lie worth believing—if only for a moment.

We stayed in the hotel that night. “I’m done sharing you,” he declared as he carried me up the stairs for a shared bath, room service and lots of plus-sized lovin’.

The next morning we boarded our plane for home. Eli checked in with his folks, who told us that Gabby had voluntarily accepted treatment. She had checked into a program, away from her family and all her triggers, to get things under control. He cried with relief when he told me. I cried with relief when I heard.

That didn’t make it any easier to find his trophy returned when we got back to the house. She had returned both that and Gene, which Eli put up in her room, where they could wait for her if she ever decided to return. I reached for his hand. We shared a look. Then he pulled me by the hand to our bedroom, where he proceeded to lose himself in me the rest of the night.

CHAPTER
TWENTY
-
THREE

If pressed, I would have to say the peak of my relationship with Eli happened that July. Like a crescendo, it built and built until our crazy summer together, and then began to subside, slowly and kind of subtle at first, like many relationships.

I mean, it was to be expected. Since we had both taken a lot of time off to spend with his family, real life awaited at home. We hit the ground running. We had to. And just like every other couple who lived together, there were days we wouldn’t see each other till we fell into bed, too exhausted to touch.

Though I now slept in his bed and we made love every chance we could, by the end of August those moments were fewer and fewer between.

Eli was determined to release his album by January, and he had yet to finish that song he’d wrestled with all year. I could tell it was driving him crazy, so I let him labor in peace. I was juggling not only my FFF commitments, but also my modeling gig with Tempestuous. The winter line was coming, and they wanted to fly me to New York for the shoot, which sounded like a great excuse for a romantic getaway. But conflicting schedules quickly became the norm. I planned to spend my first trip to the Big Apple alone.

Thankfully, because he played a regular gig at FFF, there was at least one night we could be together. As always, if a camera was nearby we played our parts, although I wasn’t really sure that they were parts anymore. By this point, the only difference between me and another woman in a long-term relationship was that I knew exactly when mine would end.

Since I had this foresight, I tried never to take it for granted.

When we sat together watching TV, I lay with my head in his lap, so that he could feed me the air-popped popcorn he buttered and salted by hand. I knew one day I’d be munching stale badly cooked microwave popcorn, watching a movie alone.

When we lay in bed together, I would curl up next to his body, my arm linked around his waist, because one day I knew I’d have nothing to clutch but the pillow.

I laughed at his jokes. I asked for his massages. I stayed up just a little bit longer so that I could see him for two seconds before we both collapsed in bed.

One day that was all going to go away. And, unlike most people on the planet, I knew what that day was.

So every other Friday, when he’d come to the club to perform, I made damned sure I was at the office that night. I didn’t even have to go downstairs, since I had picked the office overlooking our stage.

Maybe it had been my subconscious at work. Maybe, just maybe, I had thought once or twice how he’d look performing on our stage, for all the fans who love him.
Maybe
I had daydreamed about his total conversion, where he’d actually find the women he sang to attractive, and he no longer dismissed people because of their size.

I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that.

And, okay, yeah. Maybe I didn’t mind watching him any of the other times either. Watching that sensual mouth when he sang. Waiting for that moment when our eyes would meet, and I’d get that look just for me. Looking at those talented fingers dance delicately across the keys, thinking of the ways they played my body. And that voice. Every time I listened to him sing, I heard the intimate whispers that echoed in my ear.

And I had a private, front row seat. How convenient.

Needless to say I sprang up the steps towards my office. We still had a half-hour to go, and already the crowd was filling the building. In my office, I could indulge my greatest weakness where no one could see, watching as Eli set up for his gig behind the automated dark purple curtain, completely in the zone as he prepared to perform.

Personally I thought that was when he was sexiest of all. He was a man of passion, and a gal needed a man like that at least once in her life.

I had just turned to close my door when I realized that I had been followed up the stairs—by none other than Caz Bixby. He looked as cocksure as ever. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to talk business, and Clem told me I could always find you here on the nights that Eli performed. Got a minute?”

I glanced towards the window. Eli wasn’t even there yet. “Just,” I said as I walked to my desk. He sat on the edge. “So what’s up?”

“As you know, they picked my show up for another season.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Anyway, I have this client who is a larger woman. Kind of insecure and shy. I want to get her out of her shell and show her how sensual and vibrant she can be. I was wondering if maybe we could shoot a few segments here at FFF.”

I sat back in my chair. It was an interesting proposal indeed. Though I wasn’t crazy about the escorting part, that he’d be opening his client up to the kind of world we offer, and by doing so, reach every viewer at home the same way, it was an amazing opportunity to empower some folks who desperately needed it. “Did you talk to Clem and Antoine?”

“Both are down for it. They just wanted me to ask you, because you are in charge of PR. They both warned me that you’re very protective of your brand.”

“I have to be,” I shrugged. I stood and circled the desk. “As for messaging, you have me sold. I like the idea of this woman having her perspective widened. It’s a great opportunity to illustrate the kind of inclusive community we have worked so hard to cultivate here.” I stopped in front of him. “If only you didn’t have sex for money.”

He held up a finger and waved it. “I spend time with people for money. The sex thing is a mutual decision by private adults.”

I laughed. “You’re so full of it. I’ve seen your show. After you ‘spend time’ with them, you take them back to your place and it turns into soft-core porn. Normally we’d have no problem with this, but legally speaking…,” I trailed off.

“Not this one. She’s too shy for that. You could help her, Sunshine. We both could.”

I studied him for a long minute with pursed lips, as my brain quickly calculated the pros and the cons. The pro list had about six things on it I could use to justify a yes. The con list? Only one. “I’m going to say yes, but I have to tell you it feels like I’m making a deal with the devil.”

He ran his finger down my arm to place his forefinger in my palm, which I grasped almost unconsciously. “If you’re lucky.”

I shook my head. He was irrepressible. “Why do you do that?”

“I like you, Carly Reynolds. Liked you since the first day we met. I sensed in you a kindred spirit. I knew we shared something pretty rare.”

My eyebrow arched. “Which is?”

His eyes never wavered. “We both get paid to fake it.”

I gasped and backed up a step. He stood.

“It wasn’t so long ago someone needed me to fake a relationship with her. And it started very casual, mostly this social media splash where we made sure we were at the tips of everyone’s wagging tongue. We didn’t have sex. We lived together, worked side-by-side on several big campaigns. The more we faked it, the more real it got, until I found myself in love with someone I knew I couldn’t have. She wanted someone else, and no matter what I did, I could never become that person. In the end I set her free because it was the right thing to do. But to this day it remains the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I can see it in your eyes, Carly. The sadness. The dread. Every day you’re marching one step closer to the guillotine. And you know it.”

I fought the tear that tried its damnedest to form and tilted my chin. “I hate to disappoint you, Caz, but this relationship is as real as any I’ve ever had.” It mirrored what Eli had said, and was completely true.

Caz leaned forward. “I’ve said those exact same words, Sunshine.” He lifted my hand up and cradled it in both of his. “All I’m saying is that if you need a friend, I am a pretty good listener. Comes with the job,” he smirked.

I pulled away with a chuckle. “I have your number,” I dismissed easily.

He shrugged and tossed, “I’ll have my people call your people,” over his shoulder as he left. I sighed as I glanced down at the stage, where Eli had already started to set up for his gig.

“
I can see it in your eyes, Carly. The sadness. The dread. Every day you’re marching one step closer to the guillotine. And you know it
.”

I referred to my daily planner. It was September 17
^th
. I had less than four months to go. And I could have done that girly thing, thinking I could change him, thinking I could win him over. But a leopard doesn’t change his spots. The only reason Eli was with me was because he needed to be. One long-term relationship with a Big Girl and his career was set. But I wasn’t his preference; he said that time and again. And even if I was his preference, I wouldn’t stand a chance at forever with him, any more than any of the other women who have made it through the revolving door at his place.

It was foolish to cast him in any dream that lasted beyond January. I knew this.

When, exactly, that revelation had started to hurt… I had no idea.

I spun out of my chair and headed downstairs for a drink. As I passed the cheerful revelers, I had to wonder if they could see the dread and sadness in my eyes like Caz did. Did they all know? Had they always known? Did they smile to my face and pat me on my head because they knew what kind of heartache lay ahead?

I grabbed a drink, drained it, and ordered another. Then I did something I never did. I made my way towards the stage.

I wasn’t a groupie for Eli Blake. Never had been. It wasn’t that the music wasn’t good. He made damned sure of that. But the music wasn’t authentic, and that had always stuck in my craw for one reason and one reason only.

Eli Blake was a jackass.

Okay, so… he wasn’t always a jackass. There were times when he was really sweet. He took care of me when my ankle busted. He was gentle and affectionate with Beau Jangles. He was the best big brother any girl could have. He was romantic when he wanted to be. He was a good guy when he wanted to be. He was funny. He was driven. He made life happen.

Yeah, he was arrogant. But he had worked really hard for the right to be that way. He was talented and worked overtime to develop the skill to take that talent somewhere. He literally was a self-made man, who created his career from the ground up. Gatekeepers had erected walls in his path and he was clever enough to find a way around them and get shit done.