Shut Up and Model for Me by Iris Blaire Read Free Book Online

because now I can’t get to the front door again.
    “So I heard you were a grad student,” a red-head says, twirling her hair around her finger.
    She and her friends have me cornered. Literally. My back is pressed against the wall. Not only that, but I’m moping the sweat off me with my balled up t-shirt. I’m sure I reek.
    “I… uhh… yeah.”
    She flashes her perfectly white teeth while her friends ooh and ahh . “That’s so hot. What’s your major? I’m business administration.”
    “I’m… bio. Biology. I do research.”
    Her eyes light up. “So you’re going to be a doctor?”
    Fuck me. I hate having this conversation with ugly people, let alone ten gorgeous women.
    “No, no. Not a doctor.”
    “Dallas!” Britain barks. “Get your ass over here.”
    Thank God .
    “Excuse me,” I say. The girls’ faces fall as I push past them, and I hurry over to my photographer.
    “Jesus, it’s like you’re a puppy at a kindergarten birthday party.”
    I relax my shoulders. “Can you hide me?”
    “Yeah, but bro, you smell terrible.” She looks toward the bathroom. The door is open and girls are literally pouring out of it as they attempt to do their makeup. “I never do this, but I like you, and like all of these bitches here, think you’re kind of cute.” From the pocket of her jeans she pulls out a key and dangles it in front of her. I take it. “This is to the actual house portion of this place. Use the bathroom upstairs—there are towels above the toilet. Lock it up when you’re done, and don’t fuck around with anything else. Got it?”
    I grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “And don’t ever call me that again.”
    “So by fucking around, you mean I can’t stay over there, right?”
    “Am I not speaking English?”
    “I just have a lot of homework to get done.” I glance at the herd of models in the corner. The red-head winks at me while the two behind her whisper back and forth to each other. “It’s kind of impossible to work in here.”
    “Oh, God. Kid, just ignore them. You’re not that cute.” Then she laughs and says, “Okay, you do look terrified. There’s a private makeup and dressing room for Delilah and Rylan. I think Rylan’s the only one using it right now. You can probably camp out behind the clothing racks and do some algebra.”
    “Biology. You can’t get a master’s in algebra.”
    “Whatever.”
    I smile. “Thanks.”
    “I’m only nice to you because you take good photos, you know,” she says. But then she smiles back.
    Britain is kind of a badass to work under.
    I unlock the door to the living quarters part of the house and slip inside.
    The lock clicks behind me and I’m wondering if I stepped through the right door.
    The living room isn’t like one belonging to four college girls. The shit in here is nice . The kitchen countertops are marble and the appliances are brand new. The couches in the living room are leather, and the desktop computer is easily worth a couple grand. Instead of half-naked posters of the EPE girls covering the walls, the space is decorated with framed photographs—urban pictures of L.A. and Boston and Chicago, from whole cityscapes to exchanges on the streets. New York’s skyline and Detroit’s downtown coffee shop.
    If I were to walk in here without knowing, I’d think that a rich middle-aged man lived here alone.
    Don’t fuck around, said Britain. Right.
    I follow her instructions, heading up the stairs. She said the second door on the left was the bathroom. I walk past the first door on the right, and stop.
    The room is decorated in purple and black. A few framed photos scatter the walls, along with a poster of a band I’ve never heard of. The bed is unmade. Biology textbooks and nonfiction are stacked on the computer desk and plywood bookshelf.
    This is Rylan’s… this is Evan’s room.
    Something washes over me… an urge to crawl into her bed and wait for her to find me there.
    Snap out of it, Dallas.
    I told Tricia last