Emily stood, and again, I made sure to maintain eye contact, even as my mind begged me to peruse her curves. She gave me the name of a hotel nearby that I’d be staying at until the tour. “If you want to wait in the lobby downstairs, I’ll call an Uber to pick you up. It will be paid for.”

An Uber. I knew an Uber was a ride, but I’d never actually used one. Ubers hadn’t really been popular—especially in the neighborhood I’d lived in—before I was taken out of society. But I wasn’t going to ask questions. I’d wing it from there. “Thank you.”

“I’ll have Destanie text the information about the stores to the phone that’s delivered later today.”

I gave a terse nod. I was grateful for the job, but the fact that I was about to become one of these people, part of Emily’s entourage, did not sit well. Frankly, it pissed me off because this was not me, and it was only due to my desperate situation that I was being forced to play along. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it, except squander the opportunity.

She walked me to the door, and held out her hand, those fingertip daggers glinting in the overhead light. I frowned but shook it.

“Thank you again,” I said. “I’ll wait to hear from you.” And then I got the hell out of that weird spaceship and hightailed it for the lobby, eager to put the last demeaning half hour behind me.

chapter nine

Emily

Why did I feel so damn antsy? I crossed my arms, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the view of the Los Angeles skyline awash in a hazy orange glow.

“She said your resting bitch face is the blueprint!” Destanie exclaimed, tone aghast. I glanced at her, sprawled on the couch, punching her phone keys violently, face set in outrage. I got that I was supposed to feel irate too, and so I turned my focus more fully to my assistant, replaying her words in my head.

“The blueprint for what?”

Her head snapped up, as did her peaked eyebrows. “Resting bitch faces, I guess.”

I pondered that momentarily. “That could be a compliment.”

Destanie looked briefly confused, her mouth opening and then shutting again as her eyes widened. “It could be, right?” She pulled herself straight, clearly excited about the idea. “We’ll make it one. That’s your signature look from now on.”

Will we call it blue steel? I wondered, a giggle threatening at the vision of that ridiculous expression from Zoolander, but I swallowed it down. Destanie was obviously enthusiastic about the idea, even if it made me feel like a parody.