Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Fighting back tears, I gather my outer clothes from where I stripped and walk out of the room.
I did so well and then fucked it all up on the damned dance combo. The dance combo that I just performed a dozen times perfectly in the dance studio I rented.
This is it. I know they’re going to cut me. There’s no point in me even staying to hear my name read out loud by the director.
Another girl—thin and blonde, just like me, but with better tits and lips—walks in after me. Two more take their audition before Mr. Shippe comes out with a list of names.
“Thank you all for coming to today’s auditions. I realize how hard you’ve all worked on these callbacks, and I wish I could cast you all. The following are released.”
He rattles off a list of names, and one by one, women get to their feet, pack their things, and saunter out of the room.
I keep expecting to hear my name, but then the strangest thing happens.
I don’t.
“Thank you again for your time, ladies.” Mr. Shippe nods to the few girls who are still slowly making their way to the elevators. “Everyone else, hang tight. We’ll be bringing you back in.”
Oh, my God!
I made it to the next round!
This is the closest I’ve ever come to booking a Broadway show.
But…
I fucked up the dance.
I fell flat on my ass.
And from what I understand about Reflections, Lisa is a very dance-heavy role.
Why wasn’t I cut?
Something isn’t right about this.
15
HARRISON
Saturday.
Doctors don’t always get weekends. After all, people don’t just get sick during normal working hours. But this weekend I happen to be off the hook. I’m not even on call, so nothing can keep me away from my oyster date with Bianca this evening.
Are oysters a little on the nose? Everyone knows they’re an aphrodisiac—at least, that’s what people think. I’m a doctor, and I’ve seen no scientific evidence that they enhance sex drive. But the implication is there regardless.
Bianca and I have already had mind-blowing sex. So it really doesn’t matter what implications I make. We’ll certainly be doing it again, oysters or otherwise.
She seemed to enjoy herself as much as I did. I can’t imagine she’d say no to a round two.
But I’m more interested in getting to know who she is. It’s kind of nice that the sex part is out of the way now. I can focus on taking Bianca in as a whole and not just wonder the whole time if I’m going to get lucky.
It’s been a good day so far. I went to the gym, took a short walk, and then did some errands until lunch—a ham and cheese sandwich on sourdough.
Now I have five hours to kill before my dinner reservation with Bianca tonight at Brassica Rex.
Guess I can figure out what I’m wearing.
I sort through my closet. Normally my first-date outfit is a white button-down and khakis—a classic look for sure—but that feels too normal for a date with Bianca. Plus, Brassica is a classy place, and I want to dress the part. Make sure Bianca knows that I’m not viewing her solely as a sex object.
What would Maddox wear?
Maddox.
Shit.
I’ve been thinking of no one but Bianca since last night. I still have no idea where my best friend and the love of his life are.
Of course, if Maddox feels for Alissa even a fraction of what I’m feeling for Bianca…
I get it.
I’d run off to some tropical retreat with Bianca in a hot minute. Fuck my job, fuck my friends and family…
Christ. This woman has gotten in my head.
And the craziest part?
I don’t want her anywhere else.
Anyway, focus.
Have to figure out what I’m wearing tonight.
Maddox would say to go for something bold but elegant. Something equally over- and understated. I look through my closet, scooting hangers back and forth.
And I find it.
I have a shiny silver button-down that I purchased years ago for a galaxy-themed party. I haven’t had a chance to wear it since. I’ll pair it with a pair of black slacks and patent leather shoes. Bold but minimalist.
I look at myself in the full-length mirror next to my dresser. I look pretty damned good, not going to lie.
The top button on my shirt is undone since I’m not wearing a tie. I decide to undo the next one down as well.
It’s a bold look, and I think about adding a pop of color.
Anything except green.
I haven’t touched that color since I joined The Club. Back then, under Ray Sinclair’s thumb, I wore nothing but black. Even after I broke away from him, I never let green back into my wardrobe—it reminded too much of those damned highlights in Ray’s hair.
When I look in the mirror, I see Harrison O’Rourke.
Not Harry.
He died the day I joined The Club.