Page 50 of Fashionista's Playbook

The pain rang real, but I rushed on before I chickened out. “Anyway, at prom that spring—after football and everything was over, they made their grand reveal of the inspiration for Pigmo.” I flinched. “It was me.”

Travis’ face turned red, his mouth tightened, and emotion vibrated off of him. I hadn’t expected such a reaction.

“I think we should make a trip so I can meet this piece of shit.”

His vehemence was so acrid I could practically smell it. I shook my head. “What? No. Absolutely not. Look, I’m the fat kid. That shit happens to us. It sucks, but it’s part of life.”

He balked. “Fuck that. And you are not fat. For the love of shit, you’re fucking beautiful.” He pushed from the table. “If I’d ever lined up across from them…”

“You’d have destroyed them. No contest, I know.” Like ripping off a Band-Aid, the Legend of Pigmo was dead, thanks to Travis Madera.

“At least let me take you to do the Julia Roberts’ thing. We can drive a Lambo. I’ll buy you a Birken, and you can wave it around in their punk faces. Then I’ll buy the stadium and name it after you.”

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him gently. “Thank you, for all of that. Now, lets go finish the show.”

****

I kept my back straight and eyes on the blinking cursor on the computer screen. The more Ace Hollis spoke, his nasal voice grated across my very last nerve like a cracked out kazoo. On this guy, Vincent and I definitely would agree. He was a weasel in a suit.

“I’m just saying, it’s likely Jones’ last year, if you show up to that event without a dime on your arm people are going to notice.” The sleazy little agent spoke from behind Travis’ desk.

Travis turned to me and raised one eyebrow.Can you believe this shit?

“I’ve got a date. And who I bring anywhere isn’t any of your business.”

“Dump her. I’ve got a swimsuit model chomping at the bit for you.”

It’s probably Kari Tatum.Who was I kidding? Of course, it was her. Go figure she’d get her hooks into Travis’ people to get to him.

“I’m good, Ace.” Travis sighed, obviously over the conversation.

I didn’t need to see Ace to know his face was pinched and turning red. The very moment Travis mentioned wanting to focus energy in the off season on building a charity for foster kids, it’s like Ace saw money vanishing from his bank account. Now, Travis was going to a massive event and didn’t consult his sports manager slash agent.

Ace Hollis was all about control and he was losing it.

“Dump your agent while you’re at it,” I mumbled under my breath and tried to ignore the conversation.

“What was that?” The agent’s six-hundred-dollar loafers fell from their perch on the desk to the floor with a thwack. “Did you say something?”

I turned with what I hoped was an innocent look on my face. “Not a thing.”

“What is she even doing in here?” He gave a dismissive wave. “Run along sweetheart, we have business to discuss.”

He might as well have said “the men are talking.”

Does this dude think he’s a walking episode of Mad Men?

I swiveled in the opposite direction to peer at Travis. He stood across the room, where he’d been pacing and playing a personal game of catch with a football. He stopped and caught my gaze. “She’s working. She can stay, Ace.”

“Whatever.” The weasel propped his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “All I’m saying is that you've got the hottest thing in a bikini salivating for you. The time is now, Travis. The two of you could be a power couple. The money is there for you to take, and you should.”

“Says the man who gets fifteen percent.” This time I didn’t mutter. Territorial jealousy made me brave.

Travis smirked.

“Seriously? Get the fuck out of here.” Ace moved like he was going to come around the desk. “You’ve got no—”

“Whoa.” The ball Travis held fell to the ground and rolled to my feet under the desk. “You don’t get to speak to her that way.” His voice held a biting edge. “Apologize.”

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