Page 43 of Stroked by (Stroked)
“Bellini, we need one more shot of you going down the pool with Reese,” Jasper calls out from the pool deck.
“Just one more lap down. Come on, Bellini, just do this and you’re done. I have a photo shoot I still have to do with Hollis and Bodi. Everyone is waiting.”
Frustrated with this entire “segment” for the show and Reese’s inability to sympathize, I grab hold of the concrete wall so I can easily prop my head above water. “What the hell have you incompetent camera men been doing this entire time? I’ve been swimming for the past half hour, my entire body looks like a dried-up raisin, and I’m sure I’ve increased the chances of having skin cancer under this melting sun by at least fifty percent. You’re telling me you need my tired-out and chlorine-chapped body to float down this ringworm-infested pool one more time? What are you getting paid for?”
Sighing, Jasper steps in front of me and squats down to my level. “Bellini, remember what we talked about? What Jonathan reiterated? The longer you keep us here with your dramatic antics, the more you will get charged for holding up production.”
Tears threaten to fall. How dare he!
“Don’t cry,” he says in a calming voice. “I understand you’re tired and hot and want to get out of the pool, but this piece will be great for ratings. We can do the gym portion another day. Let’s just get you going down the pool one more time. Can you do that?”
I sniff, willing myself to calm down before I turn blotchy from irritation. “You realize this is like working in a sweatshop, right? The conditions I have to work under are preposterous and hazardous to my health. You treat me like your little lab rat, thinking of different ways to torture me. Do you even have any moral boundaries? Or is your heart a cinder block hole where slave drivers from the past reside?”
“Bellini . . .” Reese begs. “Please let’s just finish this.”
I shoot a look over my shoulder and shoot daggers at him. “I will swim when I want to swim.” I turn back to Jasper. “Can’t he just pull me down the pool? Look at my arms. They’ve boiled down to over-cooked noodle status. You would think this vat of water would be cold, but under this godforsaken sun it has turned into a pressure cooker. Please just let me be done.”
“One more time down the pool and you’re done.” Jasper doesn’t let up, tipping me over the edge.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I scream at decibels that can crack glass, splashing water with my hands, making sure to get Jasper wet in the process.
Everyone on the pool deck stops what they’re doing and turns to look at me. Crew members from my show and the photo shoot setting up to the side for Reese afterward, spectators, and family members all stare at me.
Any other person would wilt under the pressure of the human race observing them as an outsider, but not me. I thrive off it. I want the attention; I crave the attention.
I DESERVE the attention.
I bring the back of my hand up to my forehead and sigh. “If you’re requiring me to take one more lap in my state of mind and physical handicap, than I guess I have no choice.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Reese shake his head in disappointment and I make a mental note to talk to him later about the way he’s making the audience perceive our relationship. Even though it’s fake, he needs to treat it like it’s real. I will be damned if he will make a fool of me.
“You’re so brave,” Pocket calls out from the side.
I raise my fist to the sky, showing off my strength and then take my position next to Reese who looks like an imbecile just floating there.
“Ready?” he asks.
I turn my head away from him in defiance and wait for Jasper’s cue.
“Action.”
Just like the ten other times I swam the length of the pool, I kick my feet and doggy paddle my way down the pool, taking my time, and refusing to get my hair wet. Reese is swimming backward, encouraging me, and putting on a good face for the camera, all the while, calling me cute nicknames, which grates on my nerves.
“Almost there, sweetheart.”
If he weren’t incredibly attractive and popular, I would pop him in the nose. Yes, he might sound sweet to everyone else, but I can read that condescending tone anywhere. Lately he’s been giving me more sass, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s getting nervous about his stupid swim games coming up, or if he’s just turning into a type-A bastard like the rest of the men in this world.
I finally make it to the end and everyone cheers for me as Jasper yells cut.
Exhausted, and practically suicidal, I grab on to the edge of the pool and beg for help. “I need an air lift,” I call out. “I can’t possibly extract myself from this hell.”
“I’ll help you,” Reese says next to me.
Before I can protest, he hoists my body out of the water and flops me down on the pool deck so I roll across the steaming hot concrete a couple times.
“You barbarian!” I cry, outraged from his manhandling.
