The Model's Stylist

03 | bomb squad

c h a p t e r | 03
BOMB SQUAD
'To ask me to join the bomb squad
would've been more believable.'
__________

"WAIT, HOLD UP. WHAT?" Tessa held up her hand to stop John from talking anymore utter nonsense.

When John had called her up this morning, she thought they had to go over the common public appearances and contracts for Parker and the fitting image he saw for him like they usually did once a month, but never would she have foreseen this.

"Tessa," John picked up and offered her a cup with scolding hot coffee, which she gladly accepted since her mind quite possibly had not woken up yet and was therefore still imagining things.

Hoping to God, she was still drunk from yesterday, she took a huge gulp of the coffee, grimacing a little as the raw strong burning liquid tore at her throat, leaving it even more parched than before so she took another sip, this time reminding herself to blow at it.

"To ask me to join the bomb squad would've been more believable than this proposition," she glowered and refused to sit down as John Brenton gestured towards the opposite chair, looking at her pleadingly.

With an exasperated sigh he left himself fall into his leather office chair, smoothing out his tie, which seemed to be his adapted nervous habit and Tessa thought it served him right for springing this on her at 7 o'clock in the morning.

Right now, she cursed herself for not remembering to put her phone on silent as she instead of being here, trying to outlive the middle-aged man's puppy eyes, she could be in her own fluffy queen-sized bed, firmly disappeared into her mountain of pillows, sleeping away the forming headache that had formed behind her eyes, which quite possibly was one of the side effects from letting Indy make sure her glass of Cristal never went empty.

"Tessa, I'm really in a bind here. The timing is horrible, and—" He pressed two fingers at the top of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. "Look, You've been extremely professional and your work is always on point. None of the power houses complain and they love to work with you as you fulfill their requirements with impeccable detail..."

"Really, flattery? That's your approach?" Tessa eyed him grudgingly over the cup before turning her attention back to the cup like it was the most precious thing in the world, which right now to her it was.

Blowing the steam off her cup, John spoke up again with another desperate sigh, "I'll double your pay," he offered and leaned towards her, his elbows resting on the table and his hands outspread in surrender.

"Double?" Tessa finally sat down on the opposing chair, looking at him suspiciously and wondered if he was just playing dirty now.

"Yes, double." He sent her one of his pleased smiles as he knew he had finally caught her attention.

To embark on Mission Impossible without an Ethan Hunt by her side seemed absolutely outrageous, but nevertheless she found herself considering it. As she kept staring at the pesky manager in front of her, she knew he was counting on her hazy mind to sweet-talk her into it.

"Hm, I don't know. Can't you get Pete to do it? Pete is free... And gay," she asserted and leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs as she overbearingly took another sip of her coffee, enjoying the fact that John was once again squirming in his seat, his eyes bulging slightly, before he shook his head in protest, and started tapping his fingers on the smooth wooden surface of his desk.

"You know as well as I that he'll be chewed to pieces and eaten raw. I need someone who—"

"Who isn't prone to his misplaced charm?" Tessa quirked an eyebrow questioningly upwards and John reluctantly nodded.