Page 115 of Stroked Long
“How much longer do I have to sit here? My hair is wilting. Melon, do something about it,” Bellini snaps at Melony who glances at the production assistant and receives a wave off.
Jasper, the wrangler of Bellini, says, “You have all day since the races are constant. Get comfortable, Bellini, you’re here for the long haul.”
“Can someone get me a drink then?” she whines.Again.
“You’re going to have to wait,” Jasper responds, his voice bordering on malicious intent for the woman. “When you get rid of your assistant, you have no choice but to wait for things.”
“I didn’t get rid of her, she left on her own accord,” Bellini says, examining her nails.
Yesterday we watched some swim heats and when Melony and I went back to the hotel, Paisley stayed behind. When she got back, her bags were packed and she was headed for the airport. We weren’t even able to ask her what was wrong or where she was going. Melony tried to call and text her multiple times but Paisley didn’t answer. To say we were concerned was an understatement.
Melony is convinced Bellini did something but we can’t quite put our finger on it.
“He’s not even racing now. Why do I have to be here? Can’t we ask them to move up the race?”
“Yeah, let me go ask the International Olympic Committee to move up Reese’s heat so you can leave because your hair is wilting,” Jasper deadpans. “Suck it up, Bellini, and shut the fuck up.”
The most obnoxious and over-the-top gasp comes out of the wench as her hands go to her chest. “How dare you . . .?”
Jasper turns in his chair so fast, I’m surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. His eyes scream murder and the tension in his jaw makes me want to wilt just like Bellini’s hair. He looks positively demonic. I cringe, in preparation for the tongue lashing Bellini is about to get.
“Bellini, I will shut down production right now. I don’t give a fuck about ratings. You used your last life by getting rid of Paisley. Now I’m down one exceptional employee and have to put up with your bullshit. You either pipe down,suck. it. up, and do what you’re supposed to do, or I’ll call Wally Rose right now and end this show.”
“You can’t do that,” Bellini says meekly. Melony glances at me and we exchangewhat the fucklooks. Bellini doesn’t ever cower, but under Jasper’s glare she seems to be shriveling. Besides seeing Bodi swim today, this is one of the best things I will ever witness.
“Don’t fucking test me,” Jasper grits out between his teeth. As he turns around, he flings his hand in the air and says, “If you’re thirsty, get your own goddamn water.”
Bellini goes to open her mouth but Jasper stops her before she can say anything. “And don’t bother asking Melony or Ruby, they are not here to be at your beck and call. The only reason I’m letting you trail Ruby around, on our dime, is because we have some money invested in your godforsaken religious wear for dogs.”
Production is paying for me to be here? Well, that’s interesting.
Jasper turns to me and smiles. “Bet you didn’t know that, did you?” I shake my head, no, not really sure how to respond. He pats my knee and kindly says, “If she gives you shit, you come to me. Her bitch days are coming to an end.”
“Are you calling me a bitch?” Bellini asks as she grips onto the sleeves of her sweater set draped over her shoulders.
“Uh, yeah. You’re a bitch, Bellini. Now, let’s all sit here and enjoy the rest of the games, shall we?” Jasper sits straight and plugs away on his iPad as if he didn’t just put Bellini in her place.
She starts sniffling, but we all ignore her. No one cares, even though she so obviously wants people to.
I’m too busy focusing on the pool deck below. The swimming schedule is a bit of an erratic one. In my opinion, I would think they would do all the heats, then all the semi-finals, and then the finals, but that’s not the case. They have heats, semi-finals, and finals all mixed in together, so if you’re not paying attention, you could miss a medal race. According to my schedule, Bodi’s first final is next.
Not caring what people think, I take off my light sweater and straighten out my Bodi Face shirt. Melony peeks over and scans it. She gives me a knowing smile. I shrug and turn my attention back to the pool.
I’ve only watched Bodi swim at practice, so competition racing is something entirely new for me. It’s addicting.
Watching the swimmers parade out of the locker room in their tracksuits sends chills up my spine. It almost seems like they are boxers, getting ready for a fight against water. I love every moment of it.
Bodi is the fifth swimmer to come out of the locker room and from the mere sight of him, my heart starts beating rapidly, my palms begin to sweat, and I feel a faint sense of wanting to pass out. He’s wearing his swim cap, and he’s decorated in navy blue warm-ups with USA embroidered on the back. Standing tall among the competition, he looks like a force to be reckoned with.
Staring ahead, he doesn’t look around the stadium, doesn’t bother to look for me or his sister and Lauren, doesn’t even bother to scope out the competition. All he’s focused on is the calm water before him that will soon be disturbed.
Shaking out his limbs, he shucks his warm-ups as the announcer starts going down the lineup, announcing every swimmer’s name and the country they represent. There is a respectful amount of cheers for each swimmer, but when they get to Bodi, the place erupts and I wonder how that’s possible since we aren’t on U.S. soil. It doesn’t matter, I join in with them and so does Melony. Bellini, she’s slouched in her chair, hands in her sweater sleeves covering her ears. She looks miserable.
Good.
Turning to me, Melony grips my hand and winks. She so knows . . .
I will neither confirm nor deny until I get the go ahead from Bodi, but that won’t stop me from cheering for my sweet man.
