Page 72 of Stroked by (Stroked)
“I always have it in my photo album, so when people ask who I work for, I can just show them the picture and instantly receive their condolences. It’s easier that way.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Melony, also known as Melon by the Satan’s Mistress. I’m her hair and makeup artist.”
I laugh and take her hand in mine. “Paisley, aka Mauve, the assistant.”
“Oh, it’s great to finally meet you.” Melony turns in her seat so she’s facing me. My phone dings in her hand and she looks down at it. “Oh, you got a text from Reese . . .”
Her voice trails off and my heart drops to the floor. Her eyes widen as they look up at me.
Shit!
“I didn’t mean to look. I’m sorry.”
Quickly we trade phones and I look down at the preview text. It reads clear as day.
Reese: I can’t wait to fuck you once you get here.
No, no, no. My heart beats rapidly against my ribcage; fear tickles the back of my neck as my entire body heats up into a state of pure panic.
I’m speechless. There is no way to cover this up. It’s clearly Reese King texting me. There is no mistaking that. Not because he is in my phone as Reese King, but because in my phone, he’s Reese with a swimming Emoji next to his name. Doesn’t get more obvious than that.
I can’t move. My body is frozen in place. Is this girl going to tell Bellini? She did call her Satan’s Mistress, but still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t loyal. Was Melony actually here to spy on me? Was Bellini aware of my situation with Reese? Did she not fall for my lesbian line?
I feel like I can’t breathe.
“It’s okay,” Melony says, resting her hand on mine.
“What?”
“I won’t say anything. Almost everyone in production knows their relationship is fake, so you don’t have to worry about me saying anything. Good for Reese actually. You’re hot.”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “I would say it’s not who you think it is, but it’s a little obvious, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much. The Emoji kind of clued me in.”
“I’m so embarrassed.” My face heats up, and I can’t help but start to sweat over the whole situation. “No one knows. It’s still new, like really new.”
I want to bite my nails, fidget in my seat, bury my head in the smiling daisy sweater next to me.
“Don’t worry.” Melony smiles. “I’m friends with Reese; clearly I am not with Bellini. Trust me, your secret is safe with me.”
I can’t help but eye her skeptically.
“Will this make you feel better?” She pulls up a text message on her phone, makes it out to Reese and types. ‘Guess who I’m sitting next to on the plane right now? I will give you one guess, someone who has your name listed in their phone as Reese. *swim Emoji*’ She keeps her phone open and says, “Just watch.”
Within seconds, a text appears and we read it together.
Reese: Hmm, one guess? I’m going to have to go with my girl, Paisley. Black hair, fantastic rack, eyes that will cut you in half with their beauty.
Want to talk about stomachs doing somersaults, yeah, mine is trying to medal in gymnastics right now. Melony types back quickly.
Melony: Ding, ding, ding. You’re a winner.
Reese: What’s my prize? Please tell me it’s her.
Melony: That’s not for me to decide.
Satisfied, Melony says, “See, told you.”
“What, is he telling everyone?” Once again I feel raw panic.
