Chapter 3
1083 Words
Tottering down Seventh Avenue with a two-thousand dollar cake perched precariously in my hands, I grimaced at yet another catcall. The chilly air didn’t bother me half as much as the i***t men who couldn’t stop yelling at me.
This was why I never wore dresses.
“Hey baby, looking tight!”
“Wanna come back to my place?”
I scowled, looking away from the guys who were calling after me. Most of the time, I wore a sweatshirt and baggy jeans to go out. Harper called it my “hoodlum chic” but I called it peace and quiet. Also, you can’t hide paint markers in skinny jeans.
Up ahead, two teenage boys whistled at me.
“Yo fatso, who’d you eat?”
“Your mom. She loved it,” I said, raising my eyebrows as I strutted past the one who’d called out. His friend burst out laughing and punched him in the shoulder. He sputtered angrily.
If it had been any other day, I would have welcomed a brawl with a scrawny teenager. I knew self-defense as well as any girl, and my punches had some power behind them. But tonight was different.
Tonight I was delivering a cake. The fanciest cake in the world.
Not wanting to risk squishing the cake, I spent most of the walk on the curb, dodging the groups of pedestrians that threatened to surround me. Finally I turned onto the street Harper had sent me to.
Craning my neck, I looked down at the directions. Then back up. Then back down.
This was a scene. In front of the building, a line of cars waited to be valet parked. Each one was more expensive than the other. I saw a Ferrari, two Maseratis, one of the new super Teslas, and a car I thought I recognized from the latest Batman movie. It was incredible.
I stopped for a moment, gathering my senses and trying to figure out the easiest way to get into the building without being crushed by the mob of people gawking outside the door. Elevators whooshed up and down the outside of the upscale highrise.
A woman jostled my elbow and I instinctively pulled back, cradling Harper’s cake.
“Hey, watch it!” I said.
“Excuse me?” A six-foot tall blonde stick figure stared down at me contemptuously. Her eyes swept over my figure. “It looks like you should be the one watching out.”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.
Obnoxious guys I could handle. They were just like a more annoying version of my brothers. Tease me, and I’d tease them right back. It was the same with my art buddies who tagged alongside me, occasionally helping me throw up some of my bigger pieces. They poked at me without pushing any of my buttons.
But bullies? Especially female bullies? I couldn’t take them. Maybe it was being bullied through my preteens. It had gotten so bad that I was taking more sick days off of school than going. My parents eventually pulled me out of school and I finished my GED on my own.
Whenever another woman looked at me with that look, something inside of me turned back into a little girl, and not the brave one my mom knew. The scared one who ran and hid in the bathroom to cry during class.
Another benefit to not wearing makeup: you don’t utterly mess up your face with mascara when you cry.
“I thought all the w****s stayed in the bad part of the city,” she murmured to her friend, just loud enough that I could hear.
My face turned bright red and I turned away quickly, hugging the cake in my arms. My Iowa upbringing had done nothing to prepare me for being called a w***e by another woman.
“Are you girls going to the party?”
A man dressed in an expensive looking suit waved in my direction. I stepped forward, making sure to avoid the blonde supermodel who’d called me a w***e.
“Please come through this way,” he said, motioning to a side entrance. I hung back and went through the doorway. All of the other girls were dressed in gorgeous gowns of every color, and they were all at least half a foot taller than me, in even taller heels. It was a parade of models.
I slunk in after them, holding the cake in front of me like a shield. There was a good reason I was there. Even if I wasn’t a runway model. I held my head high. This was a two thousand dollar cake I was carrying, after all.
The girls congregated near a table at the end of the hallway. The table was covered in clipboards.
“Everyone must sign the waiver form before going up to the elevator,” the man said. He sounded bored.
I set the cake down carefully on the edge of the table that was empty, and picked up one of the clipboards.
The form was three pages long, and all of the other girls were busy initialing and signing in the appropriate spots. I glanced down at the first page.
“…signee agrees to waive all personal liability on account of the owner…”
“…in signing, agrees to complete non-disclosure under severe penalty and prosecution of law…”
“…strict dress code, enforceable and negotiable only at the discretion of the owner…”
I flipped to the next page. Things got even weirder.
“…will not speak unless spoken to…”
“…signee must obey all orders given…”
I looked up to see the first few girls already handing their forms in. They gathered near a marble elevator door where the man in the suit motioned them toward. The elevator doors opened and the girls disappeared into the building.
I picked up Harper’s cake and stepped forward to the man in the suit.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Is this the entrance for the party ”
“Is your form done?”
“Uh, no. Do I need to do that? I’m just ”
“Everyone needs to fill out the form,” the man said. He looked down at me with irritation. “Or you can find another way up.”
“Sure,” I said, slinking back to the table. Whatever. I just needed to get in and out so I could get to my new job.
- Writer
