"Oh dearie me, Olga!" Ge sang, dancing up to me in an outfit that I could only... gape at. He wore trousers twice the size of my curtains, topped with a multi-colored shirt tied into a bow with a thousand frills, a hat with a dead rat hanging from the bottom, and platform shoes the size of my geography textbooks. If you've seen my geography textbooks, you'd know those shoes were a BIG deal.
He laughed, holding onto 'robot lady,' who had somehow managed to end up with a name: Olga. That name sounded way too much like a Telenovela star's name. By God, Telenovela star villainesses are THE WORST!
"Come on, Olga," He chimed like a bell, pulling her away. That, believe me, was NO small feat. He shot me a look, winking. "Let's talk business here." He drew her into a room, and Sheila gaped at me.
"What just happened?" I shook my head, just as confused.
"I have no idea."
"God, Daisy, we're SO dead. I could never afford half a million dollars, even if I sell my liver on the black market with my heart as a discount."
"I was thinking along the lines of selling my dad. I could only realize twenty dollars from my calculations." She let out a gasp, shaking her frizzy hair out.
"We're so screwed. We could have sneaked it backward. Maybe we'd have avoided all this."
I pouted. "I know, right?" I leaned against the bar table, exhaling. "We could never…"
"Oh, my sweetie munchie sweet cake!" Harry yelled, cat-walking up to me with a wide beam. "Come on, come on," he said, pulling me by the arm. I followed, slightly lost.
"What…"
"You've been included in the shoot, dearie pie."
"Included in the shoot? What are you talking about…"
"Too much time and too little to do, beloved," he babbled, tossing me into a room and stepping in right next to me. "I paid Olga for the phone and everything else." His grin turned warm and bright as he leaned close, pinching my cheek. "So that means, pretty shortcake, that you work for me."
"Wh… what?"
"We need a background customer for the shoot. It's not anything really, dearie, just you standing and pretending to sip coffee from a cup. We just want to see you in the limelight, how the camera reacts to you. Then we'll take mug shots and compatibility shots, and…" Harry's loud, whiny voice faded. The noises around me grew thinner, the world swirled like a lake all over me. My heart thumped wildly.
They say humans blink about 15 to 20 times per minute.
With the way things are, I think I've exhausted my blinking time for a lifetime. The acid in your stomach is strong enough to dissolve razor blades.
I think it just dissolved my heart. Along with my kidney. And lungs.
I CAN'T BREATHE!!!
Breathe, Daisy. You can. You should. Okay, you technically can't since your heart's probably sitting somewhere, slowly decapitating into liquid.
I have to work for him? As a model? Wi… with cameras? Lights?
Clothes?
Sugar cookies.