Page 2 of The Billionaire

I rolled my eyes. I was not one of those women who used their body and looks. I just . . . wasn’t. Besides, I was raised conservatively, in a small conservative town where everyone attended the conservative southern Baptist church. If pictures surfaced of me in a two piece swimsuit, no doubt I’d give my grandmother a heart attack and send my grandfather straight to the grave. I couldn’t bear to think about what my pastor would think. His wife would call up my mother and tell her how rotten LA is and that the devil sure is getting a hold of my soul. I couldn’t help but to just laugh at that atrociousness.

“It’s in three weeks. Totally my treat. I’m going to make you look hot. Irresistible! We’ll do spray tan, endermologie, a brazillian wax. It doesn’t hurt too bad. I’m up for a fresh visit so we’ll do all of these together. It will be like a spa marathon. If you win, you can put a down payment on your loan. That should pay a month or something, right?”

Shelly’s light brown eyes sparkled as she came up with a plan. I was never one to be a Debby Downer, but absolutely everything seemed so bleak. I wanted to laugh at Shelly’s plan. Here’s a month of medical school paid. But I didn’t want to be rude. She really was trying to help me.

“And then, after that. After you win. We will start a YouTube video campaign with you in your swimsuit and—”

“Wait. What?” I held up my hands in protest.

“Look, Kenze, you want to go to medical school with every fiber in your being. Wouldn’t you do anything? People find a lot of success from YouTube. We’ll set up a Wordpress blog and have a donation bucket. You’ll be in med school in a jiffy.”

Right. And then everyone at Stanford will know who I am and what I look like under my scrubs. I’d never hear the end of it all.

I nodded my head strongly, fighting back tears. But I didn’t care what people thought about me. That was always my strong suit, one of my persevering qualities that always brought me out ahead.

“I’d swim the damn strait surrounded by hungry sharks if it meant my med school would be paid for.”

“Then a swimsuit pageant isn’t any different. Bottoms up baby because after tonight, I’m going to be training that gorgeous ass of yours into tip top shape. You’re going to win that competition and you will get to go to medical school. Case closed. Waiter! Another round please.”

And that’s how it happened. That’s how me, McKenzie Kane, got entered into the most absurd thing ever. But hey, I was desperate.

Shelly was true to her sweetheart word and treated me to the treatments ensuring my body was in tip- top shape. She came from money and never had to worry about money in her bank account. We met freshman year at USC and were instant besties. I, a serious med student, she a fashion design student. But we were always two peas in a pod.

L.A. was such a different world than where I was from in a small town in East Texas. Which, East Texas should be marginalized into its entirely own country inside the US. Where I was from, family, church and football was everything. In that order.

In L.A., well, image was everything. Everything. I had so many professors try to stir me away from internal surgery into plastic surgery because everyone and their dog wants cosmetic surgery. But ever since I took a mission trip with my church when I was fifteen, I knew that was what I wanted to do with my life. Save people. Help them through much needed surgery. I wanted to save people’s lives. And if being in this damn swimsuit competition would bring me one step closer, than come hell or high water, I’d do it.

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