long as you don’t get on their bad side. Then you’ll be in a world of hurt. Probably more so from Rich.
“Okay, duly noted. Now you’ve dressed me, am I good to go?” I ask with a wink.
“Of course, Missy.”
As I move to grab my bag and leave, Eric clasps my hand and spins me around to face him.
“Just to say, all humour aside, you need me I’m here. Rich too. You know that man loves you, and if he were straight, he would chase you down until he had you.” He rubs my hand. “Eric doesn’t like seeing his babies upset,” he says while I push the boulder back that’s forming in my throat.
“Thank you, Eric. I’ll keep that in mind, but don’t worry I’ll call or text before coming around. Don’t want to catch you out,” I tell him while sticking my fingers in my mouth and making a gagging sound. He rolls his eyes at me.
“Don’t let them, out there, see you do that.” He replies pointing back out to the now empty studio. “They’ll think you're one of those models.”
I wrinkle my brow. “ Those models?”
“Yeah, you know the ones who throw up to maintain their skinny arses. It’s a waste of good food if you ask me,” he mumbles, but I’m not listening anymore. I’m remembering.
“Do you have to wear that dress?” my mother commented looking distastefully at my new floral shift dress which sat just above my knees. It was sleeveless, so I’d added a soft pink cardigan which was currently over my arm and flat pink sandals to the ensemble. It wouldn’t do to embarrass her with a ‘whore outfit.’ I look down at myself then back at her.
“Is it too revealing, Mother?” I asked meekly.
“No, it just shows every lump and bump on your body. You look like a pin-cushion.” She glared at me.
I covered my stomach with my arms. “S…shall I change, Mother?” I asked trying not to cry. You don’t cry. That made things worse.
“No. There isn’t time. I shall have to tell everyone that you put some weight on over Easter. Too many eggs.” She turned and walked purposely away toward the front door, to the waiting car. I threw my cardigan on and wrapped it around myself. Knowing that I’d go along with the lie, even though she’d never have allowed me to consume Easter eggs. I did manage to have some though. Pea, Con and Saul bought me one each and I’d scoffed them at Pea’s house, making sure to throw the food back up as soon as I’d gotten home. I couldn’t have that fat sitting in my stomach. Making me fatter. Making me dirty.
“Are you going home or what, Missy?” Eric asks bringing me out of my unpleasantness.
“Oh, yeah, pfft! I don’t want to hang around here any longer than needed.” Forced cheerfulness radiating from me. Eric hands me my bag, spins me around and pats my bum.
“Get,” he says shoving me toward the door.
I step outside and take in the fresh February night air. It’s later than I thought. Glancing at my watch, I realise it’s 8.00 p.m. and I’ll have to walk down two dark roads to get to the taxi station or bus stop. Debating what to do for a minute, my brain kicks into gear thinking fuck it! There’s someone who keeps telling me to call him so he knows I’m safe. He answers on the second ring.
“Tink?”
“Hey, Dane. Listen, I was wondering…the shoot went over a bit and it’s a fair walk to the taxi station—”
He cuts me off. “Where are you?”
“Oh, errm…I’m in Moor Street.”
“On my way. Stay put.” And with that he ends the call. Nice. I look down at my phone then walk over to a bench and perch on it waiting for Dane. I forgot he used to call me Tink. He told me it was because I was blonde with lots of sass.
Ten minutes later he pulls up. Sliding in the car my body relishes the warmth from his heater.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
I fiddle with my fingers. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he asks looking at me with his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you want to go home?” he
“Okay, duly noted. Now you’ve dressed me, am I good to go?” I ask with a wink.
“Of course, Missy.”
As I move to grab my bag and leave, Eric clasps my hand and spins me around to face him.
“Just to say, all humour aside, you need me I’m here. Rich too. You know that man loves you, and if he were straight, he would chase you down until he had you.” He rubs my hand. “Eric doesn’t like seeing his babies upset,” he says while I push the boulder back that’s forming in my throat.
“Thank you, Eric. I’ll keep that in mind, but don’t worry I’ll call or text before coming around. Don’t want to catch you out,” I tell him while sticking my fingers in my mouth and making a gagging sound. He rolls his eyes at me.
“Don’t let them, out there, see you do that.” He replies pointing back out to the now empty studio. “They’ll think you're one of those models.”
I wrinkle my brow. “ Those models?”
“Yeah, you know the ones who throw up to maintain their skinny arses. It’s a waste of good food if you ask me,” he mumbles, but I’m not listening anymore. I’m remembering.
“Do you have to wear that dress?” my mother commented looking distastefully at my new floral shift dress which sat just above my knees. It was sleeveless, so I’d added a soft pink cardigan which was currently over my arm and flat pink sandals to the ensemble. It wouldn’t do to embarrass her with a ‘whore outfit.’ I look down at myself then back at her.
“Is it too revealing, Mother?” I asked meekly.
“No, it just shows every lump and bump on your body. You look like a pin-cushion.” She glared at me.
I covered my stomach with my arms. “S…shall I change, Mother?” I asked trying not to cry. You don’t cry. That made things worse.
“No. There isn’t time. I shall have to tell everyone that you put some weight on over Easter. Too many eggs.” She turned and walked purposely away toward the front door, to the waiting car. I threw my cardigan on and wrapped it around myself. Knowing that I’d go along with the lie, even though she’d never have allowed me to consume Easter eggs. I did manage to have some though. Pea, Con and Saul bought me one each and I’d scoffed them at Pea’s house, making sure to throw the food back up as soon as I’d gotten home. I couldn’t have that fat sitting in my stomach. Making me fatter. Making me dirty.
“Are you going home or what, Missy?” Eric asks bringing me out of my unpleasantness.
“Oh, yeah, pfft! I don’t want to hang around here any longer than needed.” Forced cheerfulness radiating from me. Eric hands me my bag, spins me around and pats my bum.
“Get,” he says shoving me toward the door.
I step outside and take in the fresh February night air. It’s later than I thought. Glancing at my watch, I realise it’s 8.00 p.m. and I’ll have to walk down two dark roads to get to the taxi station or bus stop. Debating what to do for a minute, my brain kicks into gear thinking fuck it! There’s someone who keeps telling me to call him so he knows I’m safe. He answers on the second ring.
“Tink?”
“Hey, Dane. Listen, I was wondering…the shoot went over a bit and it’s a fair walk to the taxi station—”
He cuts me off. “Where are you?”
“Oh, errm…I’m in Moor Street.”
“On my way. Stay put.” And with that he ends the call. Nice. I look down at my phone then walk over to a bench and perch on it waiting for Dane. I forgot he used to call me Tink. He told me it was because I was blonde with lots of sass.
Ten minutes later he pulls up. Sliding in the car my body relishes the warmth from his heater.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
I fiddle with my fingers. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he asks looking at me with his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you want to go home?” he
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