Plus one, p.2
Plus ONE, page 2
*
Chris’s Tesla reminded her of the movie I, Robot. She was waiting for it to take over control at any moment as she checked the two new notifications for the app. The first was WayneHasGains, a gym rat with biceps larger than her thighs. Sharni sighed and deleted his reply. The second was a dark-skinned guy named RomeoMan, who had acted in local theater and loved crashing weddings. Instead of scheduling a day and time to meet, Sharni messaged him back and asked if he was able to travel the following week from Sunday to Saturday or Sunday.
“I think this is it,” Chris said, turning into the parking lot.
Sharni shoved her phone into her jacket pocket and got out before the valet drove off with the sewing machine sounding car.
“After you,” Chris said, holding the door open.
A tall gentleman in a dark suit waved them over from the bar. “Sharni Dinjavi, how’d I know he’d bring you along,” he said, giving her a polite half hug.
“No deal is ever done without me; you know that.” She winked and smiled, immediately going into work mode.
He smiled. “Shall we head to our table?”
“Sure,” Sharni and Chris said in unison.
“After you,” Alan replied, waving for her to lead the way, mostly so he could admire her tight ass.
Sharni rolled her eyes as she followed the hostess to the quiet table in the back. The phone in her pocket vibrated as she took her seat. “Excuse me a second,” she said as she checked the message from the app. RomeoMan had a show callback on Tuesday and Wednesday and wouldn’t be able to travel at all during the week.
“Always working,” Alan said with a quick smile as he ordered Saki for the table.
“Absolutely,” Sharni muttered with a grin as she deleted the message and slid her phone back into her pocket. “Could be competition,” she added with a raised brow.
“She’s cutthroat, isn’t she?” Alan chuckled.
Chris laughed and nodded in agreement; Sharni was sure his knees were knocking back and forth nervously under the table. The waitress filled three small cups with cold Saki.
“Most people toast at the end of a meeting as a form of celebration signifying an agreement or deal of some kind. However, I like to toast at the beginning and start each meeting off positively.”
“I agree,” Sharni said, holding up her cup.
“I do as well,” Chris added, lifting his cup.
“Business is business, no hard feelings. We all win some and lose some,” Alan toasted.
“To business,” Sharni and Chris said simultaneously.
All three cups met in the center of the table, then everyone took a generous sip.
“Alright, let’s get down to why we’re here,” Alan said.
Chapter 3
Sharni’s mother had called at four in the morning, forgetting L.A. was ten hours behind Greece, rambling on about everything that was happening and how she needed to be there for her sister and their family, which made her want to shred her passport. She loved her family dearly and would do anything for them, but they drove her absolutely nuts. Her mother was by far the worst with her nitpicking, guilt trips, and constant reminders of what was expected of her. After falling back asleep, she was awoken again by Chris just before sunup, wanting to discuss the meeting from the afternoon before. She reassured him and reminded him to be patient, before silencing her phone as the sun peaked through the vertical blinds, painting stripes across her bed. The thought of pulling the comforter over her head and closing her eyes sounded great, but she hadn’t packed a single thing, and she was leaving in twenty-four hours with or without a plus one; that was still to be determined. With two mid-morning coffee dates planned, she hoped to have her dilemma solved sooner rather than later.
*
With ten minutes to spare, Sharni walked into the coffee shop freshly showered and dressed casually in a hot pink tank top tucked into high-rise black shorts, with black wedge slide sandals on her feet. Her curls were wrapped up in a loose bun with a few wavy tendrils hanging around her face.
“Don’t you look cute. Are those new?” Tracey asked, staring at the platinum bar earrings as Sharni slid into the stool across from her.
“Yeah, these are the ones I ordered from Tiffany two months ago.”
“I remember. So, who are these two guys we’re meeting?”
“The first, BlackJack, should be here in a few minutes. The other one, HelperJorge, should be here in half an hour. I don’t know anything about either of them, other than they are both available to travel next week.”
Tracey laughed. “Where do these men come up with these names?”
“No idea,” Sharni muttered and shook her head. “I’m going to grab a coffee. Watch for a man who comes in looking around.”
“This should be fun.”
Sharni smiled a mouthful of white teeth as she sauntered over to the counter to pick up the order she’d placed earlier on the app. When she turned around, a nice-looking man was standing next to their table. She raised a brow and walked over with her hazelnut latte, but he left before she could say anything.
“Was that BlackJack?”
“Nope.” Tracey shook her head. “He’s an attorney with my firm.”
“Can he take vacation next week?”
“He’s an asshole. Plus, I’m sure his wife wouldn’t be too happy.”
“Figures,” Sharni mumbled, sipping her coffee. “BlackJack’s officially fifteen minutes late.”
“What if he doesn’t show?”
“The next one will be here in twenty-five minutes,” Sharni replied, checking her phone. “So, what did that attorney want?”
“Your number.”
“What?”
“I’m serious.”
“Asshole,” Sharni spat.
“Exactly.” Tracey touched her cup to Sharni’s. “Is your office going to fall apart with you out for the week?”
“Chris may have a stroke. He called me at six this morning to talk about a meeting we had at one yesterday afternoon.”
Tracey chuckled. “He’s like a windup toy.”
“No kidding. If I don’t get the ball rolling soon for this acquisition, he’s going to make me crazy.” Sharni shook her head. “Speaking of crazy, my damn mother called me at four!”
“This morning?”
“Yes!”
“What the hell?”
“That’s exactly what I said after I made sure everyone was okay. Then, she proceeds to tell me how to wear my hair and makeup for the wedding and guilt trip me for not already being there because my sister and my family need me. Plus, this should be my wedding. I’m the oldest and it looks bad with my younger sister getting married first. Oh, and at least I’m bringing the person I’ve been dating because it would be even worse if I showed up alone.”
“My God.”
“She means well, but she’s stuck in traditions handed down from generation to generation and old ways of thinking. Wealth and happiness mean nothing if I’m not married and having children like she did, as well as her mother and her grandmother, and so on.” Sharni finished her coffee and tossed the cup in the trash. “I contemplated shredding my passport when I hung up with her.”
Tracey guffawed and nearly snorted coffee through her nose. “Why not call her and say you and Joe broke up today. He was cheating on you.”
Sharni raised a brow. “The cat dude?”
“Who’s the cat dude?”
“Joe.”
“What?” Tracey scrunched her face in confusion.
“You said tell my mother he and I broke up.”
“Oh ...” Tracey laughed. “I used that name out of the blue.”
Sharni grinned and shook her head. “And you’re the one with the law degree.”
Tracey shrugged and held her hands up.
“My mother would demand I bring him and dump him after, so it looked good for the family. I mean this isn’t 1823 and the father of the bride has to offer his prized goat and two cows to get a wealthy boy to marry his daughter.”
“What about the black sheep?” Tracey teased.
Sharni laughed.
“What time was the other guy supposed to be here? I don’t even remember his ridiculous name?”
Sharni looked over at her phone. “An hour ago.”
“Wow.”
“I hate men,” Sharni muttered. “Come on. Let’s go shopping.”
“Don’t you need to pack?”
“My flight leaves in the morning. I’ll pack later.”
*
“I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman,” Tracey said, swinging her bags and shaking her hips as they walked down Rodeo Drive.
Sharni flung her head back in laughter.
“Shake your ass. Maybe you’ll find your plus one out here.”
“Yeah, right!” Sharni laughed hysterically as they clumsily entered the Versace store. Their loudness echoed in the silent room like a bull in a China shop. A stiff man in a three-piece suit rushed over to them.
“May I help you ladies? Perhaps, what you’re looking for is available online,” he said, casually trying to turn them back to the door they’d just come through, causing Sharni and Tracey to guffaw.
As they were going back out the door, Tracey looked back at the old man. “Are you available next week? She’s looking for a destination wedding date.”
Sharni was about to pee herself, she was laughing so hard. She pulled Tracey out onto the sidewalk.
“I tried,” Tracey said, wiping her tear-filled cheeks. “Could you imagine showing up with a guy your parents age?”
“My mother wouldn’t care!” Sharni cried with laughter.
“Oh, my god my cheeks hurt!”
“Mine too! Come on, I’ve spent a months’ worth of paychecks. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sharni said, leading them back towards her dark purple BMW parked curbside further down the road. They tossed their bags in the backseat when they reached the car and got in. “I might as well delete this stupid app,” she muttered, pulling her phone from her slim purse.
“Yeah, a lot of good that did.”
Just as Sharni held her finger over the app to open the uninstall box, a notification popped up. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“I was trying to delete the damn app and just got a new reply to the ad,” Sharni said as she swiped to open the reply. A black and white photo appeared with what looked like a magazine page filled with a young guy wearing dark slacks and a white dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down. The sleeves were rolled back to three-quarters, revealing tattoos on both forearms. The background was gray, and he was barefooted and sitting in a model-type pose. His short hair was brushed back and styled. Sharni had to force her eyes away from the picture to read the reply.
“Who is it this time, Rico Suave?” Tracey chuckled.
“No ... It’s Alex.”
“Who’s Alex?” Tracey questioned.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Sharni said, showing Tracey the picture. “His reply says he loves to travel and is a professional. He’s been a print model and an actor.”
“Girl, he is fine,” Tracey said handing the phone back. “This is a professional photo. He definitely looks like a model. I know I’ve seen him before.”
Sharni quickly replied asking if he was available to travel for the entire week, and if so, could they meet up this afternoon?
“What if he’s unavailable next week?”
“Then, we’ll move the fucking wedding date,” Sharni muttered, waiting patiently for a notification to pop up with a new message.
Tracey snickered.
The phone screen lit up and Sharni caught a brief glimpse of the message before swiping to open it. “He’s available! Hallelujah! He is working and suggested we meet at Noir Blanc around eight.”
“Noir Blanc? Is that the new bar on Sunset?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Sharni mumbled while replying to the message. She put her phone in the cupholder and started the car. “It looks like I have a date!”
“What are you going to wear? You might be bumping elbows with Leo DiCaprio.”
Sharni laughed. “I seriously doubt it.”
“Well, if you see Jamie Dornan, don’t forget my phone number!”
“Will do,” Sharni snickered, pulling out into the traffic as her brain began scrolling through mental images of her closet. Suddenly, Tracey smacked her arm, bringing her out of the fog. At first, Sharni thought she’d hit the car in front of her.
“Look!” Tracey yelled, pointing to the right.
Sharni followed her line of sight and noticed a large ad on the side of a city bus. The black and white image was of an androgynous woman in a sports bra and underwear. They were too far away to get a good look at the model’s face, but it was the tattoos that stood out to Sharni the most. She had them on her upper arms, forearms, abdomen, and chest, as well as a few on her lower legs. They were almost erotic in the way they were done in pieces here and there, instead of her being fully covered, as if each one was meant to stand alone like artwork and her body was the canvas. Sharni was still staring when the car behind them blew the horn.
“Oh, fuck off!” she grumbled, moving up about two car lengths in the heavy traffic.
“Damn she’s sexy. I’ve never been with a woman, but I'd let her do whatever she wanted to me,” Tracey murmured as the bus turned the corner, driving away.
“Yeah,” Sharni mumbled, thinking about the model in the bus ad a little longer than she should have.
*
After dropping Tracey back at her car with a promise to call her later with all the details, Sharni headed home to get ready. It was already getting late, and the evening traffic was sure to be a nightmare of its own. Noir Blanc was an upscale tapas lounge in Hollywood. Sharni had only been there once, and it was for a charity benefit. She knew patrons weren’t allowed in unless you were wearing white, black, or a combination of both, so she pulled a stark white mini skirt out of her closet and matched it to a black spaghetti strap top with a low-cut V embroidered with white lace along the edges. She tucked the blouse into the skirt and added a pair of platinum diamond hoop earrings, before finishing her look with a pair of black calf-high leather boots with a two-inch square heel. She let down the hair she’d been wearing up all day in a twisted bun and shook out her thick waves. She sprayed a little bit of detangler and ran her hands through the long dark strands that fell loosely around her shoulders. Her natural complexion was nearly flawless, allowing her to go without make-up other than a little eyeliner to amplify her dark eyes and light gloss on her lips.
Chapter 4
Alex Mitchell stared into the mirror at her bare torso and the various tattoos on her natural beige skin. All were exquisitely done with black ink only and in a minimalist style, making them look almost like pencil sketches, with each having its own meaning or reason for becoming a piece of her body’s artwork. Skin toned silicone pasties covered the nipples of her small breasts. She watched as the woman standing behind her with hot pink hair and a nose ring added some product to her short, dark brown hair and ran her hands through the strands to give it some texture. Then, she lined Alex’s lower lids with a dark gel pencil to accentuate her caramel-colored eyes and added some finishing touches to her light makeup to intensify her strong jawline and high cheek bones.
“Good to go, babe,” the pink-haired woman said, smiling at Alex in the mirror and patting her shoulder as she stepped over to her toolkit.
“You’re a miracle worker, Tilly.”
“Please. When my canvas looks as good as you, there isn’t much for me to do.”
Alex smiled and got up from the chair wearing nothing but pasties and a pair of black briefs with Indigo written on the waistband in white. Her modesty was long gone as she pulled on the last of her outfits for the photo shoot, a tailored black suit. She checked the fit of the ankle-length slacks and notched lapel jacket in the mirror, then pulled the front closed over her breasts while leaving it open to her bare torso with parts of some tattoos peeking out. Sexy club thumping music started playing as she walked over to the gray backdrop and took her position in front of the camera.
“Last one,” the photographer said before giving her the signal. Alex immediately went into model mode, pushing everything in the room out of sight and out of mind. She was one with the camera and completely alone. “Seduce me, Alex,” he urged with a thick Italian accent while snapping shot after shot.
She varied her facial expression and body position with each new pose, staring into the camera lens with slightly parted lips like a begging lover, then playfully biting her finger and grinning, before moving one hand up into her short hair and the other down her bare torso to the waistband of her pants, taunting the lens once more. If there was such a thing as making love to the camera, Alex did it ... over and over.
*
When the shoot finally ended, the photographer walked over and hugged Alex. “Marvelous, as always,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you, Dante.” She grinned and stepped over to her agent, who was talking with the shoot manager. “Jean-Pierre, I think I’ll wear this one out,” she said, looking at herself in the nearby mirror.
“You are dressed to kill, my love,” he replied with a smile and a kiss on her cheek.
Alex slipped her slim metal wallet into the left flapper pocket of her jacket, grabbed her keys from the counter, and walked away.
With her nearly ten-year career as a model coming to an end, she’d begun the transition to acting, following the path of other high-profile models. She was agentless, unable to sign with anyone until her modeling contract officially ended, and this left her to find work in the acting world on her own. Taking some acting classes, joining social media groups, and signing up with the Favor app had led her to her only acting gigs so far; she’d performed with the local theater and was a speaking extra in a low budget film. Nothing had manifested from either performance, which was why she was on her way to a meeting with a woman who’d placed an ad looking for an actor to pretend to be in a relationship with her and accompany her to a destination wedding. It wasn’t Alex’s ideal job, and the woman was more than likely looking for a male actor, but she was intrigued by the ad and needed as much acting experience as she could get. Modeling had paid her handsomely, but the $5,000 payday was more than she’d made in her two acting performances combined, so it was worth taking a shot.
