Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,26
walked back from the studio after dropping off my ingredients from the shopping trip.
“Stop grabbing people!” I demanded.
“Sorry!” he said, trying to dust me off and fix my clothes.
I batted his hands away.
“Look,” he said, “I need your help.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”
“I don’t want to help you with anything,” I said, crossing my arms.
Jonathan grabbed my arm and shoved his phone into my face. “Can you take more pictures like that?”
“Of you?”
“Of me and the alcohol. A ton of people bought this bourbon when you posted the image,” he explained.
“I’m not doing free work for you,” I told him.
“I’m going to pay you,” he scoffed.
“I cannot be bought.”
Jonathan narrowed his eyes. “Name your price.”
“No price.”
I needed to concentrate on the scholarship and keeping Keeley from drugging Jonathan and getting pregnant. I could not also be responsible for propping up his dopey company.
“What happened to that expensive marketing firm?”
“Fired them,” he said flatly. “So I’m desperate. I need you to work for me!”
I pointed to his phone. “You have a camera.”
“Yes, but I don’t know what women want!” he pleaded.
“So all those women you were sleeping with were faking it,” I remarked, raising an eyebrow and inspecting my black nail polish. “You don’t say.”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” He grinned.
“Like I said, I’m very busy trying not to lose my mind with all the Christmas in the air. Maybe try someone on Fiverr.”
After ditching Jonathan, I went outside to the neighboring property. I sat on a bench, surrounded by nothing but large sculptures, half-finished murals, and blessed quiet.
Unfortunately, though it was an inspirational space, I had no idea what I was going to do for the scholarship piece. If my entire life trajectory and livelihood hadn’t been riding on this project, I wouldn’t have been so anxious. I forced myself to just close my eyes and sketch. That usually started the creative juices flowing.
My pen scratched across the paper as the cold winter wind chilled my nose. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes. I had drawn an entire Christmas gingerbread house, complete with frolicking snowmen and happy reindeer.
“This is garbage.”
I tore the page out, balled it up, then tried again. When I opened my eyes the next time, on my pad was a sketch of Jonathan, naked, wearing nothing but a Santa hat. And I do mean nothing.
“I bet his dick isn’t even that big,” I grumbled, ripping the page out and wadding it up.
“There you are!” Lilith and Emma called as they picked their way through tufts of weeds to my concrete bench.
“Guess what!” Lilith said happily. She and Emma were practically jumping up and down. Salem, riding on Lilith’s shoulder, was looking a little pukey. “We got a job!”
“Doing what?”
“We—or, well, you and Lilith—are going to be making marketing material. I told Jonathan that I had to be the manager though,” Emma gushed. “We get per diem and all the alcohol we can drink!”
“I’m sorry, did you say Jonathan?”
“Yeah, he practically got on his knees and begged us,” Lilith said.
“It was very hot!” Emma said, flapping her sweater to fan herself.
“I already told him no,” I said frowning.
“Come on,” Lilith begged. “We need the money.”
“I’m working on my internship scholarship submission,” I said primly.
“Oh yeah?” Emma asked. “What have you got?” Before I could stop her, she snatched the balled-up pieces of sketch paper.
“Oh my god!” she squealed. “You saw him naked?”
“No! Give that back! That’s private,” I demanded.
“Oh,” Lilith drawled, “private. How interesting.”
“You’re going to see him shirtless tonight at the hot tub,” Emma said breathlessly. “Everyone online is talking about it. There are requests for thirst pictures of him. I have this great idea that the more Hillrock West alcohol people buy, the more revealing the photo we’re going to post. What do you think?”
“I’m not doing a nude photo shoot of Jonathan,” I told them, gathering up my drawing supplies.
“It would be more about the strategic placement of poinsettias and liquor bottles,” Lilith said.
“But still tasteful,” Emma insisted.
“Sounds complicated, which is why I already told Jonathan no,” I told them. “But you two have fun.”
My twin gave me an odd look. “You have to be in charge of the creative. That’s why Jonathan hired us.”
“Nope,” I said, heading back to the studio building.
“Do it!” Lilith begged. “We’re broke! Salem will starve! I bought him special cat food from the high-end grocery store, and now he won’t touch the store-brand cat food. He only wants this super-expensive, all-natural stuff.