Page 136 of B is for Beg

Gabe:What’s that, baby boy?

Blake:Aren’t you meant to be working, Daddy?

Gabe:I’ve just finished. Are you going to keep me in suspense?

I sort of want to tell Daddy and Sir my news at the same time, but my excitement ruined that when I texted.

Blake:I’ve been offered a year-long modelling contract.

Gabe;That’s amazing! Congratulations.

Blake:Thanks. I need to read the contract before I say yes. But I’m so excited.

Gabe:I can tell.

I imagine him chuckling as he reads my message.

Blake:Will you and Sir go through the contract with me? Help me make sure I’m not going to get screwed over? I don’t think I will be, but… you know… this is a HUGE deal.

Gabe:Of course. Which company is it for?

Blake:Tucked. A male lingerie company. Apparently, they saw the work I did for UnMentionable. This is the first time I’ve not had to go to a casting call. They want ME. No one else. Just ME.

Gabe:Who wouldn’t want you?

Blake:Just so you know, I’m rolling my eyes at that.

Gabe:Why?

Blake:Because the competition in this industry is fierce, and every company is looking for something different in their models. For every ten casting calls I go to, I’ll maybe get one or two jobs if I’m lucky. So being hand-picked is a big deal for me. It’s like… like…

I give up trying to come up with the right words and hit Send.

Gabe:Like…?

Blake:I’ve worked hard for this.

Gabe:You deserve this opportunity.

Blake:They sell corsets, Daddy.

Gabe:Where do you think I gotyourcorset from, baby boy?

I blush.

Gabe:I’m proud of you.

Calvin:I’m just checking in between photo shoots. Wonderful news, princess. We should celebrate.

Gabe:Good idea. I’ll cook tonight. Invite your parents, baby boy.

I frown as I read Gabe’s message over a few times. I’m not sure how to respond, so I opt for honesty.

Blake:They’ve never supported my modelling career, Daddy. Why would I want to celebrate with them?

Gabe:So they can be just as proud of you as we are.

I put my phone down and stare at the wall opposite me. I can’t imagine my parents ever being proud of me. Rightly or wrongly, the memory of Mum refusing to buy me girls’ knickers at the supermarket floods into my mind. When I queued up behind her at the till to buy them myself, her embarrassment was clear. She wouldn’t even look at me. She shooed Archie and Corey away, and they waited for me near the entrance of the store—within eyeshot, admittedly, but far enough away to not be associated with me. I don’t want to share this moment with her or Dad. I don’t want their disapproval of me to dampen my excitement.