Newly Exposed (3 page)

My hands glided across each contour of his well-defined chest and down his stomach, where a detailed six pack rippled under my hands. I cut my hands down to the V of his hips and right above his waistline where my fingers danced dangerously with the waistband. His sharp intake of breath informed me of the effect my hands had on him. Retreating from the danger zone, I worked my way back up to his arms and finished up on his pecs to avoid any embarrassment for the both of us.
 

When I rubbed near his armpits, he laughed and jerked away.
 

“Don’t tickle me,” he accused.
 

“I wasn’t tickling you; I was trying to get oil everywhere.”

“Yeah, right. You’re totally someone who would tickle an innocent bystander.”

“And why is that?” I said, while putting a little more oil in my hands.
 

“You have that devilish look about you. You’re trouble,” he joked.
 

“You have no clue what trouble is,” I replied, while rubbing his shoulders

“I’d like to find out,” he said, while looking down at me with those devastating eyes.
 

My hands stilled on his shoulders as I looked back up at him. He really was so incredibly handsome, but he also obtained a addicting boyish charm at the same time. His mouth quirked to the side, showing off that lonesome dimple of his, making me melt a little on the spot. It’s been a long time since I felt like kissing one of the Teeg models, but at this moment, with Adam looking down at me with lust in his eyes, I was tempted to stand up on my toes and plant one right on his lips.
 

Still looking at each other, my hands glided to the center of his chest, where they connected with the dog tags dangling from his neck. I was just about to ask him why he was wearing them when Nolly came down the hallway calling out my name.
 

In an instant, I tore myself off of Adam and started wiping my hands with a towel.
 

“Where is Adam?” Nolly called out. “Zia is about to lose her damn mind.”

“You better get a move on,” I said, as I turned away.
 

Adam’s body came up behind mine and said, “Is there any chance I can get your number, Solo?”

I turned toward him and said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Models and me don’t mix.”

With that, I walked down the hallway with Adam’s eyes burning a hole through my back. His heavy steps came up behind me, and I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck as he leaned down next to my ear.
 

“I’m not really a model, Solo, just a guy trying to stay afloat.”

I hated how the way he said my name made me tingle from head to toe. I hated how his voice vibrated through my chest and I hated how I could practically feel the burn his muscles left behind on my hands.
 

With mixed emotions, I watched him walk up to Nolly, who nodded in appreciation, and then escorted him back to the casting office. He was right, he wasn’t a model for sure, because by no means did he act like one. He was genuine, sweet, and there was something dark and complex about him that had my mind reeling, trying to figure out his story.
 

Damn.

Chapter Three

Adam

My mind was still dazed from the “job interview” I went through two days ago. When my friend told me about the casting, I wasn’t expecting to be stripped bare, sexually questioned, objectified, and “rubbed down.”
 

When I walked back into the casting room, the minions’ mouths fell open and Meryl nodded in approval, while a giant smile spread across her face. The only person I couldn’t read was Zia, who apparently was the one person I had to impress. I had no clue what I was getting myself into when I entered that casting room, and it was definitely something that I would never forget.
 

Once they got their first look, Meryl came up to me and started tracing different muscles on my body with her pen, saying where there would be perfect places for tattoos, where I could work out a little more, and what my best angles were. I had no clue what she was talking about, but I just nodded and smiled, because I didn’t want to come across as rude.
 

After I put my clothes back on over the baby oil, which was extremely uncomfortable, I listened to Meryl and Zia talk about all the changes they wanted to make to my body. I didn’t get it, why did they want to change so much? If they didn’t like me, then they should look for someone else that fit the description they were looking for.
 

While I drove to the hospital, I thought about the one good thing about that confusing day: Solo. She was an unexpected breath of fresh air. I was totally digging her style too. She was a girl that you could be real with, and I liked that about her.
 

Ever since I left the studio, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her and the way her hands glided across my body, rubbing that damn baby oil everywhere. I was lucky I was able to keep myself refrained from becoming too excited.
 

She wasn’t your typical in-fashion kind of girl; she could care less what was on her body, which was the same way I felt. As long as it was comfortable, I was good with it. Even though her style was very hipster-esque, it still showed off her amazing legs and tight body.
 

Fuck. I ran my hand over my face as I pulled into the hospital parking lot. She needed to be forgotten because she clearly wasn’t interested in me. Although, she wasn’t interested in models, and after I left the studio, I was pretty damn sure I wasn’t going to be a model. I didn’t fit in, and it was blatantly obvious.
 

The signature sterile smell of the hospital hit me once I crossed through the doors. It was a smell I was starting to grow accustomed to. The walk to the sterilization room was the same one I took almost every single day. Family members of loved ones scattered the waiting rooms, nurses and doctors walked up and down the hallways checking their charts, and the soft sound of someone crying occasionally filtered through the air.
 

Hospitals were a contradiction of life and death. On one floor, the miracle of birth could be taking place, where a couple are instantly turned into parents by greeting a little one into their lives, and on another floor, a teenager could be fighting for their life after a horrific car accident.
 

I’ve been frequenting the hospital for the last few months and nothing has changed; it was the same circle of life, and right now, I was the one trying to hang on by a thread.
 

After I washed my hands, which was now routine, I stared down the door to room 308. It seemed like, when I opened the door, I could see a life slowly being taken away with every day that passed by, and it absolutely gutted me.
 

I walked through the door and saw my mom, lying on her hospital bed, looking weak and frail with tubes attached to her, helping her live. My Aunt Sarah was next to her, with her head on my mom’s hand, and a rosary in her clutch. It was a picture I could paint by memory by now. It was the same picture I saw almost every day.
 

I cleared my throat and walked up to the bed. “How is she today?” I asked softly, not wanting to wake my mom up.
 

Aunt Sarah lifted her head and looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “She’s been better.”

I lifted Aunt Sarah into my arms and hugged her tightly. “You have to have faith, Aunt Sarah. She will get a new heart; she just has to.”

My mom was suffering from coronary heart disease, and now it was just a waiting game. We prayed for a new heart every day, but the guilt that surrounded those prayers was insurmountable, because in order for my mom to get a new heart, someone had to lose their life. It just wasn’t fair.
 

“I have faith, sweetheart,” Aunt Sarah patted my chest. “How did the job interview go?” she asked, while pulling away and sitting next to my mom again.
 

“I don’t think I got it,” I admitted honestly. The look of hopelessness that crossed Aunt Sarah’s face was devastating.
 

We were suffering when it came to keeping up with all of the financial issues. My Aunt Sarah has been living with us ever since my dad was killed in Afghanistan during a night raid. She helped my mom raise me while she went to work. Now that my mom was in the hospital, the income from my dad’s death and my mom’s savings were now depleted, and we were in the midst of selling my childhood home and living off of Dollar Store meals, where Aunt Sarah had taken up temporary employment.
 

I dropped out of college the minute I knew my mom was sick and started looking for employment, but I needed something that was going to pay well and fast, because we were about to be kicked out of the prime hospital spot we had, since the bills were stacking up.
 

“That’s okay, sweetheart. Something has to turn around for us.”

There was a knock on the door and one of the nurses who I’ve grown to know as the bill collector came through the door with a sullen look on her face.
 

Shit.
 

“Mr. James?”

“Yes,” I said, walking toward the door. I didn’t want my Aunt Sarah to be a part of our conversation. She was already stressed as it was.
 

“Mr. James. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but your latest bill is thirty days past due, and there is only so much we can do to prolong the bill collectors.”

“I understand and I promise we’re working on it. We couldn’t be more appreciative of everything you’ve already done for us. I just need a couple more weeks. Can we at least just make the minimum payments to hold the collectors off?”

“The minimum is five hundred and fifty dollars.”

“What?” I felt like my eyes popped out of my sockets. Five hundred and fifty dollars might not be a lot to some people, but to people who were scraping the sidewalks for pennies, it seemed like thousands. “We don’t have that. How did it get so high?”

“Partial life support isn’t cheap, Mr. James. We’re putting in all of our efforts to keep your mom alive, and unfortunately, it costs a lot of money.”

“Jesus,” I ran my hands through my hair and turned to look at my mom. I couldn’t fail her, I couldn’t lose her…there was no way. I had to get the money somehow. “How long can you hold off the collectors?”
 

“Two weeks tops, after that, I don’t have a choice, your mom will have to be moved.”

My phone, which I forgot to turn off, started to ring in my pocket. I pulled it out of my pocket to silence it, but saw a local number calling me.
 

I looked up at the nurse, who was giving me the stink eye for having my phone on, and I gave her an apologetic look before pulling away to answer.

“Two weeks, I promise to have the money for you.”

I walked out of the room and down the hallway while pressing the accept call button.
 

“Hello?”

“May I speak to Adam James please?”

“Solo?” I asked into the phone. I would know that sultry voice anywhere.
 

“Yes, actually. How are you Mr. James?”

“Mr. James, really? You rubbed baby oil all over my body; I think we’re past pleasantries,” I said with a smile.
 

“You have a point. How are you, Adam?”

“Much better now that you’re calling. Did you change your mind about giving me your phone number?”

“Actually, I was calling because Ms. Teeg would like to offer you the job.”

My heart caught in my chest as I thought about what Solo just said and the possibilities this opportunity could give me.
 

“Are you serious?” I asked, with more excitement in my voice than I should have let on.
 

“Yes,” Solo chuckled, making my heart soar. “There are a couple of provisions, though.”

“Lay them on me,” I said, as I leaned against the wall of the hospital, not believing my good fortune.
 

“You will have to live in the Teeg house…”

“Done.”

“Okay, hold off for a second until I finish everything.”

“Sorry, I’m just…” I exhaled, trying to calm my racing heart. “You don’t understand how much you just made my day. I really needed this phone call,” I added somberly.
 

There was a short silence on the phone before Solo cleared her throat and continued, “Zia wants you to sign a contact with her exclusively; all Teeg models must sign the contract. Signing the contract gives her exclusive rights to do whatever she wants to your body to fit her style.”

“Meaning…”

“You’re already signed up to have tattoo and hair consultations, and a strict diet and exercise plan is being written up for you.”

“Wow, okay.”
 

The thought of someone having complete control over my physical appearance was slightly terrifying, since I wasn’t the kind of guy who put too much effort into my day to day style. To hand all rights of my appearance over to someone who was buried in the fashion industry was intimidating.