Calendar Girl Chapter 3:
Mia gets acclimated to her luxurious new job:
The pool was heated and refreshing. I used the time I had to work on my tan and get some exercise by way of laps in the pool. Weston, or “Wes” as he likes to be called, had not made an appearance. I imagined him behind one of the many closed doors I passed on my way to the patio.
Given we aren’t provided with more detail about what exactly she’s imagining Wes doing, I am left to assume she’s picturing him robotically standing behind the door. “Oh, maybe he’s standing by this door! Or this one! There’s another door, so maybe he’s standing behind this one instead!”
Mia then meets the kindly Ms. Croft, the obligatory British house-keeper/cook/planner-of-all-things-of-chez-Wes.
‘Mary Poppins’ smiled and held out her small hand. “Ms. Croft. I keep the house in order, provide Mr. Channing with his meals, tidy up, and the lot.” I nodded and wrung the excess water out of my hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. “I wanted to bring you a little nosh, introduce myself, and let you know that if you need anything, you can buzz me by pressing the Aid button on the mounted intercom in each room.” She pointed to the panel of buttons on the wall outside. “I’ll be sure to provide you with a daily schedule of yours and Mr. Channing’s activities so you are prepared. How about I push it under your door in the mornings?”
I shrugged. Like her, I was a hired hand, only I was meant to look pretty and scare off rich girls. We all had our crosses to bear. “Whatever works. I’m easy.”
Ms. Croft looked me up and down and then tilted her head. A smirk adorned her thin lips. “I’m getting the feeling you’re anything but easy, poppet,” she winked. “This should be interesting,” she said vaguely before she turned on her heel and re-entered the house.
“Christ, you smell like sunshine and a cool breeze in the summer,” he said dragging his lips along my chin. Shivers of excitement ran through me from the roots of my curled hair to the soles of my feet. “And you look beyond beautiful.”
“What do you do anyway?” I whispered as he led me to the bar. I realized when we walked in that I had very little information about what I was to do, besides keep the Hollywood harlots at bay.
“I write scripts,” he said casually as we waited for the bartender to approach us. It seemed odd to have a full length bar in someone’s house, but the room was huge, the size of a ballroom, so maybe it wasn’t so strange. Chandeliers dotted the ceiling and a wall of windows led out into an open view of the ocean just like at Wes’s house, only on a much grander scale. This person was über rich. Unlike Wes, who was just beaucoup rich.
He handed me another glass of champagne. “Like for plays?” I asked while scanning the area. Instantly, I spotted a pack of girls dolled up and ready to strike in the corner. They were focused on Wes, and had lusty dollar signs in their eyes.
“Mother, Father,” Wes approached the couple. The older woman had pale blond hair, almost white, and startling blue eyes. Her lips were full like her son’s and coated with a mauve lipstick that paired well with her skin tone and coloring. Her hair was pulled into a severe French twist and pearls hung from her neck and ears. Her look was classic elegance.
The elder Channing clapped his son on the back. “Son,” he said with a note of pride. His mother promptly air kissed both cheeks, which normally would seem really pretentious, but then she held his cheeks in both hands and smiled warmly at her son.
“I see you went with my pick,” I heard her whisper and turn towards me. The nerves I had prior to meeting up with Wes were back—with a vengeance. The mother picked me out? I mean, I knew that she and Aunt Millie were acquaintances, but that’s kind of strange for a mother to pick out an escort for her son. It kind of gave me the heebie-jeebies.
Wes’s mother crossed her arms over her chest and put her hand up to her cheek. She was blushing prettily and smiling so wide I felt as though she was internally laughing at a private joke. His mom leaned into his father’s side. “Isn’t she breathtaking?” She winked at me and shook her head.
The Honor Series. Weston Channing, the Third wrote the flipping Honor Series! Holy fuckballs! His movies have been the biggest hits—huge— since the first one, Jeramiah’s Honor, released three years ago. There’s been one each year. His inventive way of mixing a soldier pursuing the love of their life with copious amounts of blood, violence, explosions, patriotism, and some wicked hot love scenes have made for epic movies with record-breaking box office numbers.
Show time. Gotta earn that hundred thousand dollar payout. Even the thought of that much money going to Blaine every month made me want to hurl. Once my father was better, I was totally going to kick his ass for getting into a situation once again!
“Hey honey, I think there are some people over there,” I pointed randomly to the other side of the room, but gestured with my eyes to look behind him. Wes caught my less-than-covert eye movement and looked over his shoulder. Bimbette one and bimbette two promptly pushed out their fake ta-tas in greeting then puckered their fat, collagen-infused lips.
His eyes went from a normal Crayola green to a bright forest green in an instant.