Page 44 of Leave Me Broken
He scowls. “Payson is mine at any and all times of the day.”
My stomach flutters. As if he can hear it, he winks. “Have fun. I love you.”
A cloud of hair spray lingers well after everyone’s hair is complete. I’m not sure why so much hair spray is required for basic ponytails—I’m convinced mine will forever be slicked back on my head and never be the same. At least there will be seven other girls with the same issue.
Now we are waiting to be assigned our outfits. Everyone will be given two outfits to wear and try and sell. Chanel and another girl have us standing in a row and are going down the line, deciding who will wear what. The girl with her is less intimidating because she is a few inches shorter but just as beautiful. Shoulder-length brunette hair styled with loose, beachy waves. Her eyes look to be brown and as cold as Chanel’s blue ones. Same thin body and style of clothing but with deep skin. Chanel has changed into what I assume is her show outfit, one long sleeve and the other side is sleeveless. It’s jet black and complements her pale skin and bright hair amazingly. Tight in the bust and waist but a little flowy on the bottom with a slit down one side that starts well before her hip bone, making it very obvious she’s not wearing anything underneath. I hate it. Not really, she looks stupidly stunning and I’m jealous. Her friend is in a red silk gown that looks like melted wax over her mocha skin, hugging every single small curve on her body. Spaghetti straps and a straight neckline that still shows off a bit of cleavage.
By the time they reach me, I’m feeling sick to my stomach thinking about walking in front of people who will see that everyone else pulls off these expensive outfits better than me. If I sell even one outfit, I’ll be shocked.
“Payson,” Chanel reads off her board in a monotone voice. Much less enthusiastic than she was with the rest of my teammates. I know why I don’t like her, but I don’t understand why the feeling is mutual.
“That’s me.”
Her beady eyes narrow. She lowers her clipboard to the side and tilts her head as she looks over my body. I’m trying not to be self-conscious but I’m in a bandeau bra and a thong like the rest of the girls and she’s fully clothed, high heels and all. I keep my arms glued to my side.
“You’ll need to wear heels. Probably five-inch to even make you close to the rest of your squad.”
“Team,” I correct her. Squad sounds stupid.
“Whatever.” She looks to the brunette next to her and orders her to go get some kind of heel. The girl leaves without a single word, and Chanel spends the entire time she’s gone staring at my body like I disgust her.
“I don’t wear heels. I’ll never make it down the catwalk.”
She puffs her bottom lip out in a condescending way. “Then I guess you won’t be walking.”
She’s far too happy about that.
The brunette pops up with the shoes in question.
Hell no. How is anyone meant to walk in them but especially someone who has never once worn heels? Not to mention my knee.
Frick. I forgot about my knee. One thing the doctor said was to not wear any shoes that could cause me to tweak my knee. If any shoes will do that, it would be these. I didn’t bring my brace because it would just be walking in a straight line. Not like I could wear it even if I had it. Chanel has an issue with my height—something I can’t control—a huge black mechanical thing on my knee wouldn’t make the cut. If I refuse, then I don’t walk. The green monster inside me hates that thought. I don’t want to walk but I want Ash to see me in pretty clothes I will never actually wear again.
I rip them from her grip. Somehow the brunette knew my size, while the shoes are ridiculously uncomfortable, they at least fit. It took longer than I wanted but somehow, I get the shoes on by the grace of God himself and maybe a little stubbornness. When it comes to straightening my back, that’s a whole other thing. But I do it and don’t let it show even for a second how uncomfortable or excruciating painful it is on my knee. My knee wasn’t swollen today because I spent the morning with it up and iced—Ash’s request—but I have a feeling after tonight I’ll need a whole ice bath to calm the swelling.
Chanel gives me a tight smile. “Perfect.” She could create diamonds with how much pressure she is putting on her jaw right now. “Lilly.” I guess that is the brunette’s name—perks up. “What do you think for Payson? Make sure to notice how far her hips stick out and how her breasts sag.”
Fucking bitch.
Lilly takes in my body with the same unimpressed expression as Chanel. “I think a two piece would benefit her. Balance out her curves but it can’t be pants because of her height, so a skirt. I might suggest our Alexa skirt.”
Chanel taps her thin lips with a single finger. I can’t tell if she agrees or not, she’s not giving anything away. She walks around my body like she hasn’t been staring at me for the past five minutes, and stops right behind me. “You should tell your boyfriend it’s not classy to leave behind bite marks.”
Ash knew about the fashion show so he knew there was a chance they would be visible. I almost smirk thinking about him biting me so everyone knew I belonged to someone. I quite enjoy Ash’s possessive side.
Eventually she makes her way back in front of me and orders Lilly to grab some things which she returns with in record time. Thank God, I’m ready to have Chanel’s attention off me. They hold up a few different outfits and eventually decide on a black snakeskin skirt and matching black cropped sweater. My second outfit is a short green crushed velvet dress. I already love the looks of the dress but I’m nervous to try it on. It looks small, and even though the material is soft, I’m not sure it will stretch enough for my hips.
Chanel leaves to greet the audience, with some bullshit, I’m sure, leaving the rest of us to get ready. Apparently all the first outfits are black and the second are a range of styles and colors of dresses. Janelle’s first outfit is a pant suit and I’m extremely jealous. She’s already dressed by the time I can even get my shoes off so I can actually move to get dressed.
The pants wide leg make her legs go on for days while the top is completely lace with a small triangle bra over her boobs. With the dark smoky eyes and nude lips we are all wearing, she looks ready for fashion week. “I can’t believe how good you look.”
Obviously feeling good, she strikes a pose, then another. “Get dressed so I can say the same. Not that your bra and panties aren’t doing it for me, because they are.” She pumps her eyebrows twice and crudely gestures with her hands like she’s squeezing my chest. I swat her away with a laugh.
I’m reaching for the skirt when someone throws down a pair of black tights and a bra. “Put these on first, then your skirt and top. Tuck just the very front of the sweater in your bra to show this.” Lilly holds two fingers about two inches a part and then places them on my stomach. Her fingers are freezing and my stomach flexes when she touches me. Her eyes flick to mine. Something in them makes me feel weird, so I look down to see what she’s looking at but realize I don’t have to look. It occurs to me she is staring at my scar. I forgot that was there. I’m more surprised Chanel didn’t mention it since she had no problems mentioning my weight in front of everyone. Or the ones on my arms. I did my best to keep my arms glued to my side so no one would see but it’s still possible she could have.
“Just make sure the scar isn’t visible.” Her words are soft but her eyes are still ice cold. I don’t get the same bad feeling about her as I do Chanel. I wonder if her bitchiness is a front. Not that she’s overly bitchy per say, just straightforward, I guess? “All of them.”
Swallowing hard, I instinctively cross my arms behind my back. With a tight voice I say, “Okay.”