Page 34 of Tender Offer
P
Date:September 16, 2009, 6:30 am
From:[email protected]
Subject:Where’s your English humor?
I had one giggle, for your information. Don’t the English say “knickers”? Pardon me for trying to fit in with my new roomie.
Your Pantyless and Still Disgruntled Roommate
Date:September 16, 2009, 6:23 am
From:[email protected]
Subject:Let me know when you find it
In case you didn’t notice, love, I lack both the proper English accent and their humor. Blame it on boarding school.
I’ll send a message to Jean-Pierre. Your panties are safe with me, Puff.
Enjoy your day,
P
Chapter 19
Madison
Now
“Aquarter million dollars for three months of work?Girl!”
“Shh!” I smack Kojo on the thigh and pray no one heard him shout my business.
A blush creeps up the V in my blouse at the people next to us talking in hushed whispers. They appear around our age, possibly younger, with crossed legs, lip filler, and matching glowers.
I sit taller and do my best to ignore the volleyed gossip in French, but I fail. Speaking Creole growing up, plus my time in Paris, makes their business my business. I focus on the empty runway until my patience dissolves, along with my last fuck to give.
“I can assure you I’m not gargling dicks behind the palace,” I say in French, my tone flat but high with irritation. “Even if I were, sex work is work, no?”
The duo turns as white as our chairs, their stenciled brows reaching the auburn hairlines of their matching ponytails.
“Focus on the business that pays you, not mine.” I smirk at security, who’s coming over to escort them to their proper seats. They argue with the Jason Statham lookalike but wilt when he extends his hand and ushers them to leave. They storm off in a huff, doused in the stench of too much perfume.
“Enjoy the show from outside!” Kojo wiggles his fingers over his shoulder with a wink. Tonight’s shade is served in indigo and Nsu Bura fabric. “That’s what they get for talking shit. Now—back to your man tripling your fees.”
“Preston is not my man.” I stretch out my feet in patent leather heels. My calves will be the strongest on the earth. A small sacrifice for tonight’s ensemble.
Kojo and I are at one of the kick-off events for London fashion week. We’re in our versions of pantsuits with white dress shirts to commemorate the menswear collection that’s minutes from gracing the stage. He hasn’t stopped laughing since he heard about my new client sabotaging my morning.
The irony of Preston popping up in my life once again while taking up space in my mind like a public storage unit… I haven’t stopped thinking about him, including on Valentine’s Day, when I summoned him with every moan.
I’m still grappling with my decision to work as his stylist. What does it say about my boundaries or common sense that I not only said yes but agreed to three months in London? Every muscle in my mouth balled up to say no, but I couldn’t do it.
