Page 56 of Size King

“What’s your name?” the male bartender asks me.

“That’s Jillian Fellows,” Emma answers. “She moved here from New York today. She’s here for the same reason I’m here.”

“Hi, Jillian,” people around the bar say to me.

“Hello,” I reply timidly, waving.

“Jillian might be signing on with K-Plus,” Emma brags. “They took a whole bunch of pictures of her and loved every one of them. She’s so in—my agent even wants to represent her!”

“Congratulations!” they tell me. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Get to know her now before she’s famous,” says Emma. “She’s going to blow up.”

I am happy to meet nice people and to be sipping on a sweet, delicious beverage. I am also beyond thrilled at the notion that someone is offering to be my agent on my very first day in L.A., let alone that I am apparently on the verge of landing a dream contract that many would envy.

Despite the wonderful transpiring of events, I can’t help but feel a sense of emptiness. At first, I assume it is because of how I feel in that particular moment—I don’t enjoy all the attention we are getting, and I feel more claustrophobic the longer we stay by the bar. I can barely breathe. I want to sit and take a timeout to pinpoint what precisely it is that’s making me feel empty, and fix it.

Then, from across the room, I spot one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. He has just walked in: tall, dark, handsome with brown hair, and nice clothes with a sexy smile. I wonder if a guy like him would notice me in the packed bar.

22

Mason

Luke and I arrive at The Flower Garden around ten-thirty that Saturday night, ready to get wasted and try something new. The place is so crowded that we can’t even see the bar from the front entrance. The patrons are so loud that I can’t hear the music over the sound system.

“What’s the game plan, bro?” Luke asks.

“It’s super fucking busy here tonight,” I say loudly.

“No, it’s not,” Luke retorts. “Have you ever been here during the summer?”

The mass of people begins to dissipate, and I can see the bar. I guide us toward it, bumping into numerous people during the journey.

I notice that there is a considerable crowd of people around two women standing by the bar. I can’t tell what they look like, but they both have elegant, long hair—one blonde, one dark. By the time we seep through the people and make it to the bar, the girls are gone. Feeling a sense of disappointment, I take a seat at the bar, surprised that I am able to find any seating at all within the madness.

Luke joins me, and we order our drinks. We look around the bar, checking out the people, scanning for women.

“You see those two girls by the bar a moment ago?” I ask Luke.

“Yeah, I am wondering who they were,” he replies. “They were definitelysomebody. I didn’t get a good look at them.”

“Me neither,” I say. “You think they were famous?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m looking for them.”

I am looking for them, too. We down our liquor as we keep our eyes peeled, readying for our second drink.

Then, I find her. My eyes finally land on the popular blonde—seated only a few meters away from the bar in a sexy, low-cut top and a skirt, and looking right at me.

Her skin is light and creamy, her hair is beautiful and voluptuous, and her body is curvy and highly arousing. She is heavy, but she is tall for a woman. Her lips are full and inviting, and her luscious green eyes are powerful enough to render me braindead. We keep looking at each other shamelessly and with tangible desire being exchanged between us.

“Who are you looking at?” Luke asks.

I show him. Luckily, the popular blonde is not alone. Her friend, also a heavy girl with a curvy body, is seated right next to her, shooting glances in our direction.

“Those aren’t the girls we saw get crowded by the bar when we got in, is it?” he wonders, squinting conspicuously.

“I believe so,” I say. “Who do you think they are?”