The Billionaire Dating Game: A Romance Novel (22 page)

“I’ve won three of these contests already,” Amanda hissed at me. “Trust me!”

“I trust you, I trust you,” I said, holding up my hands.

“Now strip! Hurry!”

I did what she said, wishing I’d worn matching underwear for the show. She wrapped measuring tape around my waist, my arms, my hips.

“So what’s your superhero?” she asked, pinning some linen-type fabric around my middle.

“Uh, the Joker,” I said.

“Good one.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to shiver as she pressed the cold measuring tape up into my inner thigh.

“Do you want to do classic Joker, or like, a play off his suit, maybe something with the silk tie, you know…”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m not really into fashion.”

“Oh, jeez. Really?”

“Really.” I saw the camera crew hurrying our way. Oh, no! I crossed my arms to cover my chest and plastered on a smile.

“Arms down, please!” Amanda chirped. She measured from my wrist up to my shoulder. The camera crew looped around us. Oh, God. They were taking video of my ass. I should have worn better lingerie today. I should have—

“Okay, got your measurements. This is going to be interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“In a good way. I think you’re going to rock this. Now, let’s talk design!”

I pulled on my clothes as quickly as I could, and the cameramen decided to go film someone else.

“How do you know so much about the Joker, anyway?” I asked. “Did they have you do research, too?”

“Nah. I used to be super into movie costuming. I watched all those old Batman movies.” She pulled out a sketchpad. “Okay! So, no ideas for the dress?”

I shook my head.

“Good,” she said. “I’m gonna spitball some ideas, and you tell me if you like it.”

Her pencil flew across the paper. I was amazed to see the lines of a dress form within seconds. She’d nailed my figure, too. As I admired her work, she talked nonstop.

“Now, this is high fashion, so we can do whatever we want. And with a comic book theme, I’m thinking we go
big.
”

“So the shoulder pads like that—”

“Emphasizing the lines of the Joker suit. Only it’s not a suit, it’s a dress. The suit jacket is a cape. You’re gonna look evil and classy at the same time.”

“Evil and classy? I like it.”

“And your makeup—”

“Can I wear really bright red lipstick?” I asked.

“Yes! We’ll go pale, but maybe not too pale. And let’s get some bright green extensions for your hair.”

I grinned. This was my kind of fashion.

“Now, I think this will work with the flowy purple, but we’re going to have to see what fabric will work for the dress part.”

“Cool,” I said, and held up the sketch she’d made. If we could pull this off—

“Hurry!” Amanda said, brushing her hand up over her head, ruffling her fierce pink mohawk. “Let’s make this happen!”

The rest of the contest was a blur. Amanda was an evil genius when it came to fashion, I realized. She kept me standing for an hour while she pinned the fabric up around me, adjusting and readjusting the suit top until it fit me perfectly. Every once in a while, she’d stick me with a pin and mutter a brusque apology.

Meanwhile, Mia was in a screaming match with her partner over what kind of fabric to use.

“I can’t believe they’re still going at it,” I said, after fifteen minutes of yelling.

“I can,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. “Kathleen always gets what she wants.”

“So does Mia.”

“Then I guess they’ll go on forever.”

“A perpetual complaining machine.”

We both burst out laughing. I hadn’t realized that fashion could be this fun. By the time Piers and Dylan walked in, I had almost forgotten the main part of the competition.

“Oh, shit,” I said, dabbing on the last bits of makeup. “I actually have to walk down a runway in this thing.”

“Have you never—oh, jeez.” Amanda clapped both hands to her head. “Alright, crash course in walking.”

“I mean, I know how to walk,” I said. “I’ve been doing it since I was two years old.”

“Not this kind of walking. Stand up.”

I stood up. The countdown was on the last minute, and the camera crew was going around to get the final shots of everyone.

“Head up. Chin up. We’ll do hand on hip, that’s the easiest pose. No, not like that.”

Amanda reached down and turned my arm so that my elbow jutted forward at a sharp angle.

“That feels wrong,” I said.

“Feels wrong, looks right,” she said. “That’s the model code.”

“What else?” I eyed the clock.

“One foot in front of the other, like you’re taking a sobriety test.”

“Good thing I didn’t have anything to drink yet tonight,” I mumbled.

“Don’t swing your hips, they’ll swing naturally. When you get to the end of the catwalk, you’re going to pose once with your hand on your hip. Leg out, then shift weight, then you turn. Watch.”

I watched.

“Okay, now you try.”

“Time’s up!” Piers shouted.

“You’ll do great,” Amanda said, but I noticed a bit of concern in her eyes. “You look great, anyway. How do you feel?”

“Evil,” I said. “Evil and classy.”

“Oh, and don’t smile!” she hissed, grabbing my arm.

“Don’t—”

“Don’t smile! You’re never supposed to smile. Just a sexy pout, okay?”

I nodded, trying to feel confident without smiling. All of Amanda’s bulletpoints for walking and posing whirled in my brain. I’d had no idea that something that looked so easy could be so hard. Like finding love—everybody made it look easier than it was.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I watched in awe as the other girls walked down the runway. They made it look like a piece of pie. Of course, half of them had modeled before, so it wasn’t a surprise. I studied closely as Mia walked for her turn. I realized as I watched her flow down the runway that there was walking, and then there was
walking.
She knew how to walk.

At the end of the catwalk sat Piers, Dylan, and Tina Toronto. They all had clipboards, but only Tina was furiously taking notes.

Kate stepped up onto the catwalk, and I gasped.

Her dress was pure sex. It looked like an evening gown, only the designer had made it out of supple black leather that gleamed in the light. The embroidery across the front was done in black, so you couldn’t see the design until she posed. Then the bat symbol gleamed in shiny black thread over her chest, dipping down to show off her cleavage. A thin black cape fluttered behind her, the shawl only covering her collarbone.

I could see Dylan mouth the word
Wow,
and I couldn’t blame him. Hers was definitely the coolest outfit.

Then it was my turn. I walked down the catwalk as enthusiastically as I could while still giving a pout. Then when I got to the end of the catwalk, I saw Dylan’s eyebrows raise up. He let out a wolf whistle. Behind him was a huge mirror, and I saw my whole outfit for the first time.

It looked incredible. The fabric Amanda had picked out was an iridescent satin that looked green from one way, purple from the other. A darker purple cape winged out from my shoulders, emphasizing my hourglass figure even more. The front of the dress dipped low, showing off my ample cleavage that she’d plumped up even more with the biggest pushup inserts I’d ever seen. And to top it off, my hair was slicked back straight, with green extensions threading through my dark locks over my shoulders.

I’d never been in a dress that had been tailor made for my body before. I’d never had professional makeup and hair before. It was incredible the difference a proper fit made; the difference it all made. I looked like…

I looked like a
model
.

I couldn’t help myself. My face lit up in a huge grin before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be smiling. I clamped my lips together and turned back, forcing myself to pay attention to my walk. Then Julie was up in her neon green Poison Ivy costume, and I exhaled, stepping down off the catwalk.

The runway show was over in only minutes. I was shocked. We’d spent the whole day making these outfits, and they would be on display for only a few seconds? It didn’t seem right. We all lined up on the catwalk, standing behind our partners. Amanda gave me a nervous smile and I smiled back.

Tina Toronto tore apart the outfits she hadn’t liked. To my surprise, Julie’s outfit was deemed “too boring” and “uninspired.” Heidi’s Wonder Woman outfit was “ill-fitting, with cheap looking fabric and visible seams.” When she got to me, I was so nervous I could barely breathe.

“Now this outfit,” she said. “When we talk about inspiration, this is what I mean. The shoulder pads hearken back three decades, and all of the lines scream classic eighties chic. It suits the character perfectly.”

“I agree,” Piers said. “A great outfit.”

I didn’t bother looking at him.

“However,” Tina continued, “the model was lacking. You’ve never walked a runway before, have you?”

I swallowed hard. Dammit, I had screwed up. In front of me, Amanda put her head in her hands.

“No,” I admitted.

“It’s very obvious,” Tina said, looking up critically from her clipboard. “You have a shaky gait, and that pose at the end of the catwalk was execrable. Do you know what that means?”

“It means I’m a crappy model,” I said. A few titters went up from the contestants.

“So tell me why your team shouldn’t lose this contest,” Tina said, twisting her glasses between her fingers.

“I—it was all my fault,” I said. “I know I’m not runway material. But Amanda shouldn’t suffer for it. If you kick me off, you shouldn’t kick her off. It’s not fair.”

“This contest was about teamwork—”

“And we worked great as a team!” I interrupted. “It’s not her fault I can’t walk to save my life!”

“What about your pose?” Tina asked.

“What about it?”

“That huge smile at the end there,” Tina said. “It looked like you did it on purpose—”

“Of course she did it on purpose!” Dylan piped up. He hadn’t said anything before then. “She’s had to smile!”

“I—I had to smile?” I stared at him, agog.

“Of course you did! You’re the Joker! That was my favorite part!”

“Oh. Right. Exactly!” I said. Thank God for Dylan! “I was trying to stay—uh, in character.”

Tina sighed, putting her clipboard down on her knee.

“Well,” she said. “The dress itself is exquisitely made. So I suppose this one is a wash.”

My knees shook as they moved onto the next contestant. Amanda turned around. I expected her to glare at me with hatred, but instead she reached out and squeezed my hand.

“It’s alright,” she whispered. “She’s mean to everyone.”

“I’m sorry about messing up the walk,” I said, tears stinging my eyes. If she had gotten another partner, she might have gotten first place.

“It’s alright,” Amanda said. “I don’t think we would have won anyway. Check out those two.”

Tina Toronto was deliberating between Kate and Mia for the top prize.

Mia’s dress was black, too—she had picked Storm for her comic book character, and streaks of white lined the edges of her dress. While Kate’s Batman dress was sleek and supple, Mia’s radiated outward in spikes of crisp fabric. They were both gorgeous, and I could see why she was having trouble deciding. Still, I crossed my fingers for Kate.

Dylan shifted in his seat as Tina gushed over Mia’s outfit. When she finally stopped talking, he opened his mouth.

“But she can’t win!” he cried.

Mia’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Why not?” Tina Toronto asked.

“Look at her outfit. She picked Storm!”

“So?” Mia put her hands on her hips.

“So? So Storm isn’t even a DC Comics character! That’s a Marvel character!”

Every head turned to Dylan. It seemed like nobody knew what the heck he was talking about. I certainly didn’t. Dylan blew out a breath of exasperation.

“She’s X-Men. Duh! X-Men is Marvel. Not DC. That totally doesn’t even follow the rules.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Mia turned aghast.

“But—but—”

“Sorry,” Dylan said. “Those were the rules.”

“Mia, you do have immunity,” Piers pointed out. “So even by breaking the rules, you can’t lose this contest.”

“I didn’t—I only—”

“So congratulations, Kate! It looks like you’re the winner!”

Kate squealed and hugged her partner. Mia stood scowling as they jumped up and down in celebration.

Amanda turned to me and gave me a hug.

“This was the most fun I’ve had in any of these contests,” she said.

“I hope you beat Kathleen!” I whispered.

“Me too!”

I turned back to see Dylan coming forward to give Kate a hug. Piers stood behind them, but his eyes were focused over them, onto me. A strange feeling twisted up in my chest. I tamped it down.

And I was truly happy to see Kate finally winning a contest. Even though she was my closest competition, I didn’t want her to leave. As long as I didn’t get booted from the competition, we could end up in the top two spots together. An evil grin spread across my face.

After all, if the fashion contest hadn’t gotten me kicked out, I don’t know what would.

The next day was a down day—a real down day, not like the fake down days that had ended in fighter jets and egg tossing contests. We were let loose, with strict instructions not to talk about anything that had happened on the show so far. If any word got out about who had won or lost already, Piers warned us, we would be eliminated from the competition. Only a few of the episodes had been aired so far.

I tugged on my old jeans, grabbed a slice of pizza for breakfast as I headed back home, and felt like myself again. I was looking forward to checking out the aired episodes and seeing what kind of edits the producers had decided to do to me.

But when I arrived back at the apartment, Emma was heading out. Her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Arlen has another fever,” she said. In her arms, Arlen was wailing. “This time it’s even worse. I’m scared, Lisa.”

“She’ll be fine,” I said. Arlen didn’t look fine. She was red as a radish, and screaming at the top of her lungs. “Here, let me get the bag. We’ll go to urgent care. It’ll be okay.”