Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
It's not. At least half the customers are men either looking for something for their woman or men looking for someone to give them a free fashion show. "You wouldn’t believe how many men come into Liore wanting to get off in the change rooms."
"You're kidding." Her voice explodes into the space, reverberating through my still sore brain. I swear even my eyelashes hurt today. I open the bottle and pop two pills into my mouth, using the last of the water to wash them down.
"I'm serious," I say quietly, hoping she'll take the hint and temper her tone. "It's happened to me a few times."
"You don't ever actually do it, do you? Tell me you don't."
I should be offended by the question but I can't be. Cassia knows me better than anyone. She was the one who laughed alongside me when I got caught in the art supply closet in high school with the captain of the debate team. We were only kissing but it was enough for yet another warning in my file.
"I don't," I say honestly. "It's against company policy. I wouldn't risk it."
"I'm surprised by how much you like this job." She walks into the kitchen. "I know it's just temporary but you're killing it there."
I am killing it. I got paid yesterday and with all the commissions I've earned, my check was the biggest it's ever been. If I didn't have any other direction for my life, I might stay at Liore for a year or two.
I can't let that happen though. I made a promise to myself and selling lingerie for the next three, or four, or more years of my life isn't part of that.
"Have you decided whether you're going to audition yet?" She walks back into the room carrying a glass of orange juice. "Here, drink this."
I tentatively take the glass from her hands as I look up at her face. Her olive skin is glowing. Her hazel eyes surrounded by long, beautiful lashes. She rarely wears any make-up. She's never had to. Her natural beauty rivals any woman I've ever met.
"No, not yet. I need more time to think about it."
"There's a woman I work with at Hughes Enterprises. I was telling her about you and…"
"You told her about me?" I interrupt. "What did you tell her?"
"The regular stuff anyone would tell another person about their best friend." She nervously shifts from one foot to the other. "You have a lot in common."
An involuntary smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. "Does she play the violin too, like me?"
"No one plays the violin like you, Isla." She rubs her hand across my forehead sweeping my hair to the side. "If you audition for that opening with the String Orchestra, you'll get that spot. Hell, if you tell them who you are, they'll give you the spot without you having to play a note."
I swallow hard. I know that she's trying to help but she's not. It's in Switzerland. That's an entire world away from my life here. "I'm not ready for that yet. I need more time."
The sigh that escapes her is noticeable in the stillness of the room. "I know. I just don't want you to waste your talent. It's a gift, Isla. I know you can't see it but it's true."
I do see it. That's because I spent the first thirteen years of my life being paraded around the globe like a show pony with a violin in hand. I was my mother's meal ticket and she made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that my talent was what was keeping our household afloat.
She resented the fact that when she was a child my grandmother, Ella Amherst, was focused on her career as the principal violinist with the London Philharmonic. My mother took it upon herself to rebel in every way possible, including getting pregnant with me, when she was still a teenager.
When the two of them finally settled in Chicago shortly after I was born, my grandmother took on a position with the Orchestra there. My mother took up with one man, and then another, and eventually I ended up with two younger half-sisters, and a handful of stepfathers.
My only solace through all the upheaval was the violin my grandmother had given me. She taught me how to play and with each invitation I received to appear on local television programs or radio stations, my mother's greed grew. Eventually, she was booking me to play at weddings, birthdays and even funerals.
I was the adorable blond haired girl with the big blue eyes and the talent of her grandmother. Nothing more than a novelty, drawing the attention of celebrities and royalty who thought it cute to throw the spotlight on a small child who could play classical music alongside many of the best musicians in the world.