Daddy’s Rules by Kelly Myers
Savannah
After dinner, Nick and I walk back up to our adjacent rooms on the thirtieth floor. Somewhere toward the end of dinner, he turned cool again and I’m not sure why. We started having a good conversation and just when I think he might be nice, after all, he shuts down.
Nick Knight is a moody artist, no doubt about it.
It doesn’t matter, though. We’re only working together for two days and I can totally handle anything he throws at me. If he wants to keep his distance and not joke around or get personal, that’s fine by me. I have enough friends and do not need another one. Especially someone who runs hot and cold. People like that are the worst because you always have to tiptoe around them and never know what to expect.
As I pull out my key, Nick opens his door. “See you at 7,” he mumbles.
“See you,” I say and watch him disappear into his room without so much as a good night or nice meeting you. What a grump.
My call time is actually at 5am and I don’t have the luxury of strolling in two hours later. Right now, though, I plan to soak in the huge bathtub until my skin wrinkles. I pull the La Perla nightgown out of my suitcase and head into the enormous bathroom.
While the tub fills, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and brush my teeth. Then, I wander over and dump some scented bubble bath under the faucet. I’ve never stayed in a hotel this fancy and I figure I may as well enjoy the amenities.
Once it’s full to the brim, I slip into the steaming water and lay my head back. Ohhh, amaze-balls. The hot water smells like sugared-flowers and it helps ease the tension from my meeting with Nick.
Nick Knight. I wish I could stop thinking about him, but I can’t. Since the moment Jazz showed me his picture, he’s infiltrated my head. He isn’t even very nice or cool, yet I can’t seem to forget his silver-gray eyes and the way he just stared at me tonight.
What was he thinking?I wonder. Did he regret taking this job after meeting me? Maybe he thinks I’m a flake or ditzy since I couldn’t stop babbling after introducing myself. He’s just so incredibly handsome, older and talented. I felt completely out of my league the second I walked into the restaurant and met him.
Get it together,I tell myself. You can’t act like some teenage girl swooning over a boy band singer. The moment Nick got snarky, though, I stopped seeing him as this perfect man and for the jerk he was inside.
I suppose as long as he stays cool and aloof, everything will be okay. I won’t fall to pieces every time he lays those metallic eyes on me.
Little do I know…
After my bath, I dry off and slip the La Perla nightgown over my head. It’s soft, silky and completely luxurious. I spritz some of my favorite perfume, Vera Wang’s Princess Night, on and feel just like royalty.
In a sweet cloud of velvety jasmine, vanilla and sugar, I head over to the balcony to check out the nighttime view of Las Vegas. And, it doesn’t disappoint. Lights blink everywhere and this is definitely a city that doesn’t sleep. Crowds of people walk down the boulevard and suddenly the dancing fountain down below at The Bellagio comes to life and music pours through the speakers.
As I lean out over the railing and watch the show, I realize someone else is doing the same thing one balcony over. My heart gives a little stutter and I pull back and out of sight the moment I realize it’s Nick.
“Enjoying the show?” his deep voice asks.
I move closer to the divider that separates our balconies. I can’t see him, but his powerful presence is palpable. “Every time it starts, I come out to watch,” I admit. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
For a moment he doesn’t say anything. Then, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
I move closer to the privacy wall between us, feeling bolder. He can’t see me and for some reason it’s so much easier to talk to him like this now then it was earlier at the restaurant. “I’m looking forward to working with you. I think your work is brilliant.”
I hear him walk over to the divider, maybe lean a shoulder against it. “Thanks. I, ah, think you're pretty talented yourself.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
I feel a huge smile stretch across my face. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”
As the show below ends, I lean my head against the wall between us and gaze out at the city.
“Goodnight, Savannah,” he says.
“Goodnight, Nick.” I wait for him to move back into his room, but don’t hear anything. A few minutes later, a cool breeze blows over me and my skin breaks out in goosebumps reminding me of the tiny nightgown I’m wearing. I rub the chill from my arms, turn and go back into my room.
As I slide the glass door shut, I finally hear Nick do the same.
The next morning, it takes me ten minutes to Uber down to the Neon Museum. The massive outdoor exhibit has more than 200 signs on display that once adorned the casinos and hotels of vintage Las Vegas. It's like a giant picture book of Vegas history and I’m pumped that we get to shoot here.
There are a couple of big pop-up canopies set up out back and, the moment I appear, the hair and makeup team usher me under one. I feel like Katniss in The Hunger Games as they go to work, primping and polishing, pulling out all of the stops to get me camera-ready.
By the time Nick steps on set two hours later, I’m ready. The team did a phenomenal job and I can’t wait to get in front of the camera. He walks over, takes one look at me and frowns. “No. This isn’t what I want,” he says. “She’s supposed to look like an angel not a hooker.”
My mouth drops open and the team descends. “She’s wearing way too much makeup,” he complains. “And, why is her hair so big? Make it straight and sleek. Why am I doing your job? Jesus.”
Without even a greeting to me, or to anyone else for that matter, he launches into one complaint after another. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to Leah, the girl trying to fix my makeup. “I thought you did a great job.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Just close your eyes. I’m going to lighten your eye shadow up.”
For a moment, Nick stands there and glares. We get it, you’re unhappy, Geez. Go away. But, he hovers around, keeping a close eye on their work. “Get rid of all that blush. She should look pale, almost translucent.” He shakes his head, curses and stalks away to check out the set.
“Is he always this pleasant?” I ask and they all stifle giggles.
“He’s an artist,” Leah says. “They can be temperamental.”
“That’s no excuse to be rude,” I say.
I notice the team exchange amused looks and I’m willing to bet they feel the same way, but are too scared to say anything. Nick Knight is the type to steamroll all over someone if they don’t speak up and I really wanted this to be a pleasant experience. Now, I’m getting worried.
Maybe he will chill out after a coffee, I think, and watch him accept a styrofoam cup from an assistant. He’s conferring with the crew and directing the setup of various lights around a huge sign that says Stardust.
Twenty minutes later, the team finishes re-doing my look and calls Nick over to get his approval. He stands just outside the awning and motions for me to stand up. I slide off the stool and he crooks a finger at me. “Come here,” he says. “I want to see you in the natural light.”
I move out into the early morning sunshine and he studies me closely with a critical eye. God, I feel like I’m under a microscope beneath those narrow, gray slits. “Fine,” he says. “Get her dressed before we waste more time. We’re already losing the early light I wanted.”
“Maybe you should’ve come earlier,” I mumble.
“What?” The sound is like a low hiss and I stop in my tracks.
Oh, crap.I honestly didn’t think he’d hear me. I glance over my shoulder and try to play it off. “What?”
“Is there a problem, Miss Hart?”
“No. All good.”
“Then get your ass in there and get dressed,” he orders between gritted teeth.
I don’t bother to respond, just hightail it into the tent where the wardrobe waits. I slip out of the robe and they pull a pretty white sundress over my head. It’s long and flowy and laces up the front which also makes it sexy. They place a huge hat on my head, some chunky jewelry, sandals and then push me out.
No one follows and I look over my shoulder to see them hover at the tent’s entrance, watching, waiting for Nick to criticize their work. He takes one look at me and says, “Lose the hat.”
I pull the floppy thing off my head and Leah takes it.
“Over there,” Nick says and points to the letter “S” on the sign. Again, he narrows his eyes, studying me. “Take the jewelry and shoes off, too.”
I do as he says, then wait. He moves closer, camera in his hand. “Lounge against it.”
It’s time to lose myself and let my instincts take over. I lean into the huge letter, pull the long skirt up to reveal my lower legs and try to convey the angelic look he mentioned last night. He snaps a couple times then shakes his head.
“No. Give me more than that.”
I change my position up and his frown only deepens. I try a few other angles, play with the dress and alter my expressions, but nothing seems to make him happy.
“Move to the other letter.”
“Which one?” I ask.
With an annoyed sigh, he lifts a finger and points to the “A.”
When I move to the new letter and begin to pose, I’ve never seen anyone look so irritated. He crosses his arms and raises a dark brow. “What’re you doing?” he asks in a clipped tone.
I have no idea what I’m doing wrong and the nerves I’ve been trying to suppress hit me hard. Everyone is watching-- the lighting guys, assistant, hair, wardrobe and makeup teams. I feel like an absolute idiot.
“Um-”
“The “R.” I pointed to the “R” so why you’re standing at the “A,” I have no idea. Put your listening ears on, Sienna.”
Utter humiliation washes through me and I move over to the opposite letter. The next 30 minutes goes on like this with Nick giving unclear directions and me trying to understand what he wants. Trying to please a man who obviously can’t be pleased.
He doesn’t utter one word of praise. Just a string of orders like some military commander. Most of the time he looks frustrated and completely vexed. And, it’s starting to irk me the way he keeps calling me by the wrong name. I’m not sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he really forgot my name.
Either way, I bite my lip and do my absolute best to figure out what he wants and remain quiet, just absorbing his jabs and maintaining a completely professional attitude. Jazz told me Nick is the one who’s such a professional, yet I’m seeing everything to the contrary.
He’s being a first-class asshole and I have no idea why. I guess for whatever reason, he just doesn’t like me. Well, that’s fine because I don’t like him, either.
“Sienna! Pay attention. I told you-”
“Savannah,” I correct him. Let him be mad. Whatever.
For a moment he doesn’t say anything. But, the how-dare-you look on his face makes me instantly regret opening my mouth.
“Oh, excuse me,” he says, voice dripping in sarcasm. He stalks closer until he’s within a foot of me and I can see I’m about to get reamed. “You know why I can’t remember your name? Because you're nobody.” He lets that sink in then continues. “In order to make it, to have people recognize you and actually remember your name, you need to work hard and prove yourself. And, so far, I’ve seen very little of that today.”
My eyes slip shut and I feel my cheeks heat up and turn red. Jerk. I can’t believe this. I’ve been working my ass off all morning and don’t deserve the disrespect he’s showing me. But, I bite my lip and take it. Nick has the power to fire me and if that happens, I will be truly humiliated.
“I suggest you stop dicking around and start modeling,” Nick adds. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to find someone else who can actually do the job and who has the brains to understand what I’m asking. Is that clear, Sienna?”
I bite my cheek so hard it bleeds. I hate this pompous prick. Seriously hate him with a passion. “Crystal clear, Mr. Knight,” I say in as pleasant a voice as I can muster and give him a saccharine smile.
