Page 95 of Stroked by (Stroked)
If I wasn’t so terrified about losing my job and making a bad impression in front of Jasper right now, I would tell Bellini off, and then leave, because, hell, I’m on the verge of not being able to take her crap anymore.
Not only is Bellini insulting me, her employee, but she’s being incredibly rude and offensive to Lauren who thought she was picked to perform a job, not be matched up with a fake lesbian.
My gut churns, and I instantly start to feel sick to my stomach.
Not caring about any of the awkwardness in the air, Bellini continues, “So, Mauve, meet your new life partner.”
“Umm, I didn’t sign up for this,” Lauren says.
“Shhh.” Bellini waves her off with her hand and then looks at me with excitement. “What do you think, Mauve? Are you overwhelmed with love right now?”
Jesus. This can’t go on any longer. Lauren is clearly uncomfortable and Jasper looks like he’s about to have a stroke. Everything about this entire conversation is wrong.
“Yeah, about that.” I rub the tops of my thighs. “Funny thing, I’m not really a lesbian.”
Sitting up straight and placing her feet on the ground, a look of outrage and murder coming off of Bellini, words drip from her mouth in disdain, “You’re not a lesbian?”
“Not really.”
“This ends now!” Jasper demands, and I turn red with embarrassment. This is just what I need, for Jasper to think I’m some kind of unstable person who lies to their boss about their sexuality. I was hoping to gain a recommendation from Jasper, but after today, pretty sure that ship has sailed. I’ve so fucked up, and big time. “Bellini, you are—”
“So you’re telling me your vagina doesn’t like touching other vaginas?” Bellini squints, trying to gain some understanding, once again interrupting Jasper.
“No,” I answer.
“So, you don’t like to clap flaps together?”
“That’s offensive,” Reese points out. “You can’t just say you are ‘for gay people’”—he uses air quotes—“and then go around and say shit like that, Bellini. I don’t care how much money you make, these are human beings, and you need to learn not to belittle them or be offensive.”
“Your crotch wrapped in spandex is offensive, but you don’t hear me insulting you, do you?” There is no winning with this woman. Bellini turns her attention to me. “Listen here, you ass-face whore bag, tell me right now why I spent many nights praying with Pope Francis about your life decisions, why I took the time out of my day to force Pocket into reading applications, and then spent time talking to these women on the phone when I could have been getting my armpits lazered?”
“Why did you tell her you were a lesbian?” Jasper asks.
My hands twist in my lap, my stomach bottoms out, and for the first time ever, I actually feel like I’m going to puke in front of a circle of people.
“Well, umm, you see, Bellini was concerned about how I was looking at Reese, and I felt that if I told her I was a lesbian, she wouldn’t be stressed about anything between us, which she shouldn’t be. We’re strictly professional. I actually have a boyfriend, his name is . . . Clyde.”
Clyde? Why is that the first name that comes to mind? And why the hell am I lying again?
“Clyde? He sounds hideous.” Bellini gets up from her swing, her robe blowing in the breeze.
A voice that sounds awfully like my father’s sounds off in the back of my head, telling me what a failure I am, how I’m never going to succeed, how I should give up everything and just come home, to where I belong.
Is this what it takes to succeed in this industry? Constant lying? If so, I hate every minute of it. I think there has to be a better way, but then I look at Bellini and know, right then and there, there is no winning when it comes to someone like her. I can tell her every day I brush my hair, and she won’t believe me. I could literally stand in front of her, five brushes running through my hair, and she still wouldn’t believe me. That’s the kind of person she is. So, if I have to lie to her, if I have to stretch the truth to help her comprehend something, then I guess that’s the way it has to be.
Too bad for me, I chose the wrong thing to lie about. Little did I know it was going to blow up like this.
“So, does that mean I don’t have a job with Pothead Pizza?” Lauren asks, looking a little shell-shocked from this entire interaction.
“Of course not, you hot-faced armpit,” Bellini snaps, gripping one of the pillars decorating her patio area. “Jasper, I don’t think I can work with a lying, manipulative hog-whore. If she’s lying about her sexuality and keeping men by the name of Clyde away from me, then what else is she hiding? Maybe a patch of moles that connects together to form a penis on her back? Or maybe the fact that the dried-out mop on the top of her head is actually a wig made from an Italian’s man butt hair? Or, heaven forbid, she has a secret stash of empty Tic Tac cartons stacked up in her jalopy just so she can reminisce on all the times she fed me.”
“I can assure you none of those are true,” I say quickly, looking at Jasper who looks fed up.
Taking a deep breath, he says, “Bellini, I suggest you keep your insults to yourself. You are one lawsuit away from losing everything your dad has ever worked for. Paisley is a solid worker, we are not firing her—”
“How is this your decision?” she barks at him, interrupting what he was saying. Again. “She works for me.”
“She works for the production company to keep you happy,” Jasper shoots back. “Now, I suggest you apologize to Lauren, thank her for coming by, and set up a time to speak to our lawyers. This shit has gone on long enough.”
