18
KASSIDY
“O
h ...” she whispered as soon as she opened her eyes. Kassidy was stuck on stupid. She had no idea where she was. There was no computer in the corner of the room. No frilly, girly covers. No teenage voices wafting from across the street and floating in through the open window. No signs of the room belonging to her. She looked down at her clothes and saw that they'd disappeared, too. She was wearing a robeâan oversized muumuu that looked like it belonged to someone's grandmother. Her eyes kept darting. First inside the robe, where her underclothes were, thankfully, still in place, then around the room once again. She saw she wasn't in a bedroom at all. It was more like a den. A small pool table was on one side, and a huge plasma TV on the other. CDs, stacked almost to the ceiling, flanked both sides of a high-tech stereo. She rolled onto her back on the couch to gather what little composure she had left and breathed deeply. She was almost calmâthat is, until she looked above her and immediately sat up. There was a painting of three almost nude hoochie mamas, doing only God knew what, attached to the ceiling.
Ohhh
. She rubbed her pounding temples.
She was in desperate need of an aspirin. Her head and her body seemed to be competing to win the title of her most painful moment. At the rate her headache was increasing, it would leave her other aches in a trail of dust.
Despite her pain, she walked around the room touching things. Normally, she wouldn't have gone through someone else's stuff. Invading privacy was more than disrespectful to her; it was degrading. But she had no choice. Whatever she could find out could help her figure out where she was and what might happen next. There was no way she was going to leave the room not knowing what she could be walking into. She fingered the objects with a white-glove touch, as though she were inspecting for dust, but the space was squeaky clean. She went back to the couch where she'd slept, and paused. She scrunched up her nose, preparing for the worst. Picking up the covers with two fingers, she took a short whiff of them. They were cleanâvery cleanâand smelled better than her mother's laundry on good days; and her mom could wash the heck out of clothes.
“Where am I?” she whispered, and lightly tapped her foot. She wanted to yell, rant, have a fit, but she was too ashamed. She should know where she'd slept and how she'd gotten there. Kassidy had never put herself in this position before, and it bothered her to the nth degree. What kind of person didn't know where they'd laid their head? She continued her search, but there was no indication of to whom the room belonged. There was nothing personal enough for her to make an assumption. No this-is-my-lair-and-my-stuff. Nothing.
A knock on the door almost caused her to jump out of her skin. She ran to the mirror and checked herself. She might be God-only-knew where, but she wasn't going to be caught with a thing out of place; not if she could help it.
“Yeah?” she called out to whoever was on the other side of the door. “Come in,” she invited, like it was her space.
A lady, around her mother's age, walked in. While there was something familiar about her, Kassidy couldn't place her. The lady grinned like she had no problem with Kassidy being there, so Kassidy smiled, too.
“It's nice to see that you're up and at 'em, sugar. Are you okay?” the lady asked, grabbing Kassidy's hand between hers. Her expression was one of concern.
“I guess. I've just got a huge headache.” She played the game with her. If the lady knew who she was, Kassidy was going to pretend to know her as well. It made no sense to make a bad situation worse.
“There's some acetaminophen in the medicine cabinet. Those are better for the lining of your stomach than aspirin. Not so harsh, you know? I've also laid out some towels for you, toothbrush, face moisturizer ... everything I think a young lady needs.”
Who is this crazy woman?
Kassidy nodded.
“Go get cleaned up and meet me in the kitchen, sugar. I cooked a little something.”
“Thank you.” Kassidy cheesed, quite sure that she was showing more gums than teeth. “I'll be right in,” she said, hoping that the lady would leave before she did because Kassidy had no idea where the bathroom was located.
After showering and applying the makeup that she carried in her purse, she went through all the toiletries the woman had set out. The spread was unbelievable, and everything was brand-new. Either the lady was out of her mind or had been expecting herâor another girl.
Maybe she has a daughter
. There were three tubes of lipstick, two mascaras (one waterproof), facial cleansers and moisturizers, and several different kinds of perfume. She hadn't missed a thing, Kassidy thought, until she held up the clothes and the underwear. They were boys' clothes and boxers. She inspected them closely, and they seemed as though they'd fit.
Well, at least they're new
. She slipped into them as easily as she'd put on her shoes.
“Sorry about the clothes. I forgot to pick up some panties and girls' clothes when I went out,” the lady said when Kassidy walked into the kitchen.
“No problem. Thanks for all the toiletries. I left them in the bathroom,” Kassidy said as an afterthought. She didn't want the lady to think that she'd taken the stuff, just in case the lady hadn't bought it all strictly for Kassidy's use.
“No problem, sugar.” She looked at Kassidy with her head tilted. “You don't mind me calling you sugar, do you, sugar? I call everyone that.” She slid a plate in front of Kassidy.
“I don't mind at all.” She stared at the plate piled to capacity with enough food to feed a small neighborhood or Yummy. She bit her lip as she stared at the bacon, wondering what kind it was.
The lady must've read Kassidy's mind. “Turkey bacon. Everything on the plate is fat free. A girl has to watch her figure, you know? But it still tastes good. Eat upâas much as you want, sugar. I'm the only one who has to worry about gaining weight around here.”
Kassidy glanced at her plate, and her stomach turned. While the lady had prepared herself two egg whites, one piece of bacon, and a grapefruit, she'd made Kassidy at least a half dozen eggs, the rest of the pack of bacon, fried potatoes, toast, and pancakes.
What happened to fat free?
Kassidy was afraid to tell the lady that she also had to watch her figure. Having been a model since she was a kid, she'd been on a lifetime mission to keep her figure flawless.
Then Kassidy scarfed down her food without giving it another thought. It wasn't salad or fresh-squeezed OJ, but it was good. She figured the faster she ate, the more she'd be able to get down. It never occurred to her to worry that this strange woman might poison her. Kassidy also didn't think about asking the woman who she was or where she was. She felt an obligation to be extra nice and accommodating because of the lady's hospitality.
“Oh, sugar, would you like another helping?”
Kassidy dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “No, thank you. The food was excellent. Can I ask you something?” she inquired, unable to handle the not knowing any longer.
“Sure, sugar. What is it?”
Kassidy looked around nervously. “Where am I?”
The lady threw her head back and laughed. “I'm sorry. It never occurred to me that you might've forgotten. I guess that you don't know who I am, either. A long night will make anyone forget. I'm Lucy.”
Again, Kassidy froze. What did “a long night” mean? She searched her brain for answers. She hadn't been drinking. She refrained from alcohol. She didn't do drugsâever. She now wondered if someone had slipped her something. Had someone drugged her? Maybe she'd been given a roofie, the date-rape drug she'd heard about for years.
“Don't look so scared, sugar.” Lucy lovingly patted her hand. “Nothing bad happened to you. You were sick, that's all. I mean really, really sick. Food poisoning, if you ask me. The way you were hugging the toilet ... I had to put you in one of my robes. You ruined your pretty little outfit with all that vomiting. I'm telling you, when Carsen carried you into the house ...”
“Carsen!” That's whose room she was in, but it didn't seem like a bedroom because there was no bed in it, just an oversized sofa. His name rolled off her tongue, and relief coursed through her like a flash flood. How could she forget being with him? she wondered. Then she remembered tidbits of the night before. The awful stomach pain that gripped her from the inside and seemed to reach all parts of her body. The projectile vomiting. Being hot, then cold, then hotter than she'd ever been before. And dizziness. She couldn't forget the wooziness and weakness.
“Where's Carsen now?” Kassidy asked.
Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? He dropped you off, put you on the sofa, then did like always. Kept it moving. That's what my son does.”
Kassidy nodded. She guessed she should be disappointed that Carsen would abandon her when she was sick, but she wasn't. She was just glad that he hadn't taken advantage of her, because he could've. At least he cared enough to bring her to his mother.
Or did he?
she questioned. Maybe he'd brought her to Lucy because he didn't know where she lived.
That'll teach you
, she tsk-tsked herself. Being dropped off and abandoned was what she'd gotten for going out with someone she barely knew. She had to be more careful.
All of a sudden, Kassidy felt as if she were about to burst. The food was rising in her gut, begging to come out. “Excuse me, Lucy.” She ran through the house and into the bathroom. Before the door was closed, she lifted the toilet seat and sank to her knees. She gagged, but nothing came out except a retching sound. Heaving, she gripped the commode, and in a matter of seconds her stomach was empty. Feeling weak, she managed to pick herself up from the floor and make her way to the vanity. She looked in the mirror; her eyes were watery and kind of bloodshot. Kassidy rifled through the medicine cabinet looking for the toothpaste. She brushed her teeth and washed her face and used the eyedrops she'd found while looking for something to freshen her mouth. She smoothed her borrowed outfit and walked outâright into Lucy.
“Sugar, are you okay? Still sick?”
“I'm okay,” Kassidy said, even though she wasn't sure ... “just a little too full.”
Lucy laughed. “Well, I can believe it. You cleaned your plate. If you want to stick around, I'll be making lunch soon.”
Lunchtime!
Kassidy panicked. She checked her watch. It was ten in the morning. She had only one hour to get to the modeling agency appointment. Her eyes scanned her clothes, and her head shook in disappointment. She'd just have to go, looking like a boy, and pray that her face and credentials could help her snag a shoot.
Â
The door to the agency was as heavy as the last one, Kassidy thought as she pulled on it with all her might. It was as if the weight of it were a symbol of how hard it would be to get in and get signed on as one of the models. The clock on the wall told her that she'd barely made it. It was just two minutes to eleven, and her heart raced. She hated to be late.
“Kassidy Maddox. Here to see Ms. Rosschild,” she said to the receptionist, who, thankfully, greeted her with a warm smile and a nod. A silent
whew
moved through her as she went to sit in the small waiting room and saw there was only one other person there. It was a guy, but his face was hidden behind a magazine. He had long legs, wore faded jeans and simple sneakers. Just from the midsection down, she could tell he was a pro. His outfit gave him away. Newbies were the ones who dressed up, and they were also the ones who rocked everyday sneakersâthe ones that were trendy. Seasoned models wore the best designers, and their clothes seemed plain, but the clothing tags attested to their quality.
Her shoulders relaxed as she got comfortable in her seat and noticed the receptionist looking at her outfit. The receptionist's eyebrows were raised, and her head was tilted as she inspected Kassidy. Kassidy gave herself a once-over, hoping that somehow she'd pulled off the boys' clothes and high heels. Still watching the clock, she saw the agent was running two minutes late, but she didn't care. She was here, and that was all that mattered. The guy with the magazine sat across from her and to the left, noisily flipping the pages. Kassidy almost rolled her eyes, but stopped herself. She didn't want to show how little tolerance she had, at least not here, so she focused on the photos on the walls. There were good shots of high-profile models, top photographers and designers, and major companies plastered all over the place, telltale signs of the talent the agency represented. Her hopes rose until the guy's magazine lowered, taking her mood with it.
Couldn't be.
She exhaled audibly.
“Serious?” Diggs said, with a look of disgust or disdain on his face.
“What are you doing here?” Kassidy whispered across the small space.
Diggs purposely dropped his chin in a
Duh, what do you
think
I'm doing here?
expression. He tsk-tsked her, pointing to her clothes. “Long night?” His question was sarcastic.