Songbird by Victoria Escobar

want a damn escort.”
    “Walker, really. You’re being impossible.
It’s only a garden party.”
    “Why am I being impossible when it’s such a
little thing for you to put on a dress, do your hair, and come to a
party?” He crossed his arms and actually stomped his foot. I
checked the eye roll.
    “Try and think of this from my perspective.”
I held my hands out palms up. “There are several things wrong with
even entertaining the idea. Um, the first being I’m your tour
manager and sometimes assistant. It’s unethical. Then, ah,
secondly…I don’t have the kind of dress needed for that type of
party with me.” Under his intense stare I had begun to stutter.
Lovely. I lifted my chin and held his eyes waiting for his
attack.
    “We’ll be in LA. You can shop online and have
a dress delivered to the hotel before I even finish the morning TV
show.” He slammed his hands down on the table and leaned over to
look me in the eyes.
    “Third.” I swallowed and pointedly ignored
his interruption or tried. “Ah…I don’t meet the industry standard
for beauty. Attending as your date, guest, whatever wouldn’t look
good on you.”
    His jaw clenched and he opened his mouth to
speak but slammed it shut again. If I had thought him angry before
I had been sorely mistaken. His face was shading at an alarming
rate.
    “Find a fucking dress.” He stood abruptly.
“This is no longer up for discussion.” The door in the back of the
bus slammed moments later.
    Closing my eyes I let out a heavy sigh. Then
lifted my water glass to my hot face and rubbed the cold
condensation over the heated skin. My arguments had been weak, and
there were better ways to handle Nicholas, I knew. Maybe next time
I should try the truth. Though arguing that I was fat and socially
awkward would probably get me just as far as I was now.
    Arc stuck his head out of his bunk and looked
both ways. “Is it clear to come out?”
    I only sighed.
    “That could have went better.” Arc hopped
down and swaggered over to the table. “With the right lipstick
application the scar on your lower lip won’t be seen. The slightly
off nose gives you character, and you do have killer legs.”
    “What are you getting at Arc? Never mind, why
do you know how to apply lipstick?”
    “I have my ways, little bird.” He sat and
propped his feet up next to me. “Industry standard beautiful isn’t
realistic. It’s not healthy, and quite frankly, for all of us here
it’s not beautiful. At the moment you’re not required to please the
industry. You’re required to please Nick. He thinks your good
enough to go to the party. Why challenge that? If I was a chick, I
think that would be a pretty damn good compliment coming from a man
like him.”
    “It’s improper.” I shoved his feet off the
bench. “There are rules to the game he plays. The rules indicate
being seen and photographed with women as pretty as or prettier
than he is. A plain Jane will only get him ridiculed and dismissed
in the media. He doesn’t need bad publicity right now. Not when
currently we’re doing pretty damn good.”
    “And being seen with you is bad
publicity?”
    “That’s an awfully high horse you’re sitting
on, Ms. Sheridan,” Max drawled and shifted in his bunk so he could
join the conversation without actually getting up.
    I threw up my hands. Literally, threw my
hands up in the air. “What am I missing here? Do all of you need to
have vision checks in San Diego?”
    “I think maybe it’s you that needs to have
your eyes checked.” Arc drummed his fingers on the table.
    “You’re like a modern day Sophia Loren,” Max
provided. “You’re a little taller, even. You might need to add a
bit to her measurements but your body proportions are the
same.”
    “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Who is
Sophia Loren?” I pulled my glasses off again and pinched the bridge
of my nose.
    “You’ve got to be joking,” Guy’s voice
floated nearby alerting me that he had now