When Ornette woke up back in her dorm room, she sighed.

  She woke up because someone was tapping on her door. She had to answer it.

  She didn’t want to answer it.

  She wanted to take the day off.

  She wanted to sit in her stupid room and take things slowly. She’d have a bath. She’d read something about a way to do her nails better. She’d blow-dry her hair properly (the way she liked), and she’d prepare herself to go back on the show.

  Instead, she had The Coordinator banging on her door with a closed fist like the police and calling her name through the door. “Ornette! Ornette! Open up!”

  She pushed off the bnkets and dragged herself to the door with the air of a teenager being called for school.

  She opened the door. “What?”

  The Coordinator was on the other side of the door, but so was Varner. They were both there, standing in the hallway.

  “I didn’t think you were coming back,” Papa Bear said coldly.

  “I didn’t think I was coming back either,” she supplied, trying to keep her voice light. After all, The Coordinator was there, and if he was there, everything would be all right.

  “Are you okay?” The Coordinator asked sheepishly, gncing over his shoulder at Varner, wondering what was safe to say in front of his boss.

  “I’m great. I got through everything without a scratch on me,” Ornette said cheerfully.

  “So, you can try on bathing suits?” The Coordinator pressed.

  “Naturally,” she said, with a professional smile. “However, I would appreciate a few minutes to ready myself for the day. I haven’t had breakfast, and, honestly, I haven’t had a chance for proper grooming in the st few days. Could I possibly have an hour?”

  “Get a spa tech up here,” Varner said grouchily. “Have her ready to try on the suits in half an hour.”

  Ornette gawked. “Can’t I have more time? I can’t eat while I get my face washed.”

  “Like I care if you eat,” Varner spat back. “Half an hour.”

  ***

  Half an hour ter, Ornette was trying on bathing suits with the designer (a nameless grunt of a man) who had been paired up with her, Varner, Uncle Bear, Brother Bear, The Coordinator, and three other dudes Ornette had never seen before. They were all watching her.

  It was okay. She was up for it. She kept her back straight, stepped carefully in her high heels, and pstered a look of perfect tranquility on her face no matter how the men looked at her or what they said.

  The man dispyed a shockingly wide range of emotions.

  The designer looked at her analytically. He was as heartless as a robot, and Ornette appreciated it, even if she didn’t catch his name.

  Uncle Bear was bored. She wasn’t his type.

  Brother Bear was more interested, which was lucky for her since he was the one she was supposed to seduce. She kept throwing him flirty gnces. It should have helped her cause, except he didn’t look like he knew what to do with them. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and only gave her cursory gnces. He was in a room watching a woman parade around in different swimsuits. It should have entertained him, but it didn’t. He was clearly preoccupied.

  The Coordinator was worried. His anxiety was pinching his shoulders. His eyes darted about the room like a cat that was expecting a rat to jump out at him.

  The three dudes in the back row seemed like they were there as a favor from Varner, so they were having a good time. At the very least, they didn’t want to show their disinterest, so they spread grins on their faces and made little awed sounds when she came out. She liked them, even if she thought they were full of crap. They wanted to be in Varner’s good books more than they cared how she looked in a bathing suit.

  Varner was an unsheathed sword. He was furious. He had no patience for what was happening. He had already had everything expined to him. He could not bid on Ornette. After the show was over, he would be prosecuted for stabbing Desmond and have to deal with whatever fallout that created. So, he was doing what he was allowed to do now, which was watch Ornette try on bathing suits when he wanted to rip them off her. He knew how important it was to keep his cool. He knew the reasons, yet he was having trouble containing himself. He was too angry. It was spilling all over the pce.

  “None of these swimsuits are for the show,” the designer expined to Ornette. “I’m just putting them on you to see which suits ftter your lines. I’ll watch the footage of your little modeling show tonight and make some more notes. Don’t worry. I’ll have something for you to wear by the end of the week.”

  Ornette was impressed with his compartmentalization. Whatever was bothering Varner wasn’t bothering the designer. He couldn’t care less.

  She winked at him as he said his goodbyes and The Coordinator herded the other spectators out of the room, but he was so focused on everyone else that he didn’t notice Varner taking Ornette by the arm and shoving her back into the changeroom she had been using.

  “Did you sleep with Desmond and get it out of your system?” he asked crankily when they were alone.

  “Like sleeping with a man once would get him out of anyone’s system,” Ornette scoffed. “I’d have to sleep with him a hundred times to accomplish that, and I assure you, he wasn’t up for it.” She jabbed herself in the hip with her index finger in the pce where Varner had stabbed Desmond.

  “What? Did his family not want you pleasuring their precious son?” Varner continued poisonously.

  Ornette nodded sadly. “Exactly. They sent me back here, didn’t they? It’s such a pity.”

  Hearing that loosened Varner’s shoulders. “I want to make a deal with you.”

  “A deal? What kind of deal?” she asked, grabbing a silky housecoat off the hook off the back of the dressing room door and swinging it over her shoulders.

  “You can cancel the cuse in your contract that forbids the weight difference,” he said nonchantly. “The Sleeping Beauty Inc. rep I spoke to said it was possible.”

  “Why would I do that?” she wondered as she tied the belt at her waist. “Or rather, what reward would I receive for doing that?”

  “You would get double your fee,” he supplied.

  She smiled to cover her thoughts. It wasn’t worth it, even without the copyrights Desmond had given her. Double her fee? Triple her fee? It wasn’t worth it. A man like Varner? There was no happy ending. She would rather be sold again under her terms than take a man like him. It wasn’t just his weight. It was also his temperament and the cold fact that he had stabbed Desmond. He couldn’t undo that.

  “I’ll think it over,” she lied.

  He looked hopeful for a moment before the look on his face fell. He realized she was only saying that to get him out of her face temporarily. Later, he would hear that she had rejected his offer.

  “This is your st chance,” he threatened.

  She nodded. She was very aware of that. “Yeah. I’ve had lots of ‘st chances’. Plenty. Do you know what happens when the st chance comes?”

  He didn’t move his head. He waited for her to answer her own question.

  “The worst scenario happens anyway,” she replied with a graceful shrug.

  His face grew dark, and he loomed over her. “Do you like it when it happens anyway?”

  Ornette was about to answer like a soldier on the front line when The Coordinator burst into the changing room. “Varner, you can’t be in here!” he excimed.

  “I was just leaving,” the big man said, backing away from Ornette.

  The Coordinator shooed him out of the room and all the way out to where he’d said goodbye to the other guests. Then he came back to the change room.

  The door was open, and Ornette had not yet changed out of the swimsuit.

  “Why didn’t you scream or something?” he asked impatiently.

  “Why didn’t I call out and act like a scared little guppy?” Ornette replied. “What good would it have done to let that man intimidate me and to make it clear that I was wildly uncomfortable? I’ve already done that. You’re not going to be able to protect me from him indefinitely. The Queen of Venus sent me back here to finish the show. There’s nowhere to run.”

  “No. We’ll be able to keep your contract intact. I know he seems a little rough, but he hasn’t actually…” The Coordinator trailed off as he absorbed the expression on Ornette’s face. She knew something he didn’t know. “I… uh…” he stuttered.

  Ornette gnced around and spotted a camera in the hallway just outside the dressing room. “You know this has gone on too long, right?” she said, stepping closer to The Coordinator, who was standing in the line of the camera.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, frazzled, ruffling his hair.

  “I mean that Varner has been showing me interest for too long for him to give up now. He’s thinking things like ‘he hasn’t come this far to only come this far’. He wants to stick it to Desmond and take what’s his. Varner’s obsessed, and he won’t feel better until he does what he has to do to ‘take what is Desmond’s.’ If you stick your neck out too far, you’ll get your head chopped off, so forget about me. Instead, go book me a hospital stay. If he gets his hands on me, I’ll need the rest of my purchased year in a recovery wing.”

  “He isn’t likely to…” The Coordinator started and then stopped.

  “Please. Do as I say,” Ornette said softly, brushing him aside so she could change in peace.

  He followed her. “Isn’t there some other way to get you off the show?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Are you going to watch me get out of this bathing suit, or are you…”

  He didn’t move to leave immediately, and she ughed as his eyes lingered on a bit of her bare skin in a fascinated way. “Really? You’d stay? I didn’t think you were into women.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No one does, but I am.”

  He shut the door behind him and acted like a guard on duty. He took a call on his headset on the other side of the door while Ornette peeled off the bathing suit.

  _________________

  Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! See you Thursday!