Free In Paradise by Brit Blaise Page A

get this job, she’d be walking soon. That would be the demise of her last pair of designer heels, the only pair of expensive shoes she hadn’t sold or hocked.
    Gina sat down and leaned her crutches against the wall behind her.
    “That’s some cast you got there. Are you here for the consumer products job too ?” 
    Gina glanced down at the monstrous cast running from her foot to mid-thigh and then thought about what the woman sitting next to her had said. “Did you say consumer products?” Gina perked up. She’d been afraid the five or so women sitting in the small room were vying for the same job as she.
    The two men were a complete mystery. Gina didn’t want to th ink about what they were doing here. One stared at her blatantly, while the other picked his teeth with a match book cover and read a magazine.
    “You haven’t tried a vibrator until you try the Ball-Peenis Hammer 2000.” The woman’s voice rose above the sound of head-banging, glam rock filtering from the sound system. “Now they’re coming out with a new and improved model. I can’t wait to give it a try.”
    Gina held her hand in front of her mouth in case anyone could read lips. “And you get paid for—um, using this vibrator? How much do they pay?”
    “So you aren’t here for the Ball-Peenis Hammer 3000 trials? The 2000 is to die for. One can only imagine the new and improved model. It’s not so much about getting paid as getting off . They give a pittance to write a review…it’s the free vibrator I’m after.”
    “I have an interview to model. ”
    The curious woman stared pointedly at her cast again.
    “Model body parts,” Gina clarified and held her breath, waiting for questions she didn’t want to answer.
    “How do you get a job like that? Haven’t I seen you before?”
    Not likely. Gina had worn an ugly blonde wig and dark glasses large enough to cover half her face. No way could anyone recognize her. “Have we met? I don’t remember.” Gina reached for a magazine on the table in front of them hoping the woman could take a hint.
    Narrowing her expressive eyes, the woman leaned closer to examine Gina. “I don’t think so, but something about you looks familiar. Are you famous?”
    “Ms. Peterson?” The receptionist called twice before Gina recognized the fake name she’d used for the appointment.
    Saved from further niceties, Gina pulled herself to her feet, hopping on one foot while she positioned the pesky crutches.
    “Break a leg, Ms. Peterson .” The woman giggled and winked.
    “Thanks.” Gina shuddered. Had she been recognized? It had to be her damned lips. What good were they anyway? It wasn’t like cosmetic companies were breaking down her doors to smear their lipstick on her. Nope. It was the younger women getting those jobs. And if her lips were so damned memorable, why hadn’t they melted Mr. Right’s cold heart.
    Her broken leg had ruined her life! She went from making four thousand bucks on a mediocre week to bupkis. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. Less than nothing.
    And since she’d spent every penny she made, she had no savings, no insurance or any benefits to fall back on during the hard times.
    “Right this way .” The receptionist motioned to a closed door. “Mr. Thompson is waiting for you.”
    Gina struggled while negotiating the narrow doorway of Mr. Thompson’s cramped office, slamming a crutch against the wall. She was about to apologize until she looked around at Mr. Thompson’s very distasteful decor. Somehow he’d managed to take faux-fur to a whole new level of disgusting.
    The man who held her financial future in the palm of his hand gave her a warm smile. “Virginia Newman, I’m glad you came. When the receptionist said the name Peterson, I wasn’t sure it was you. You’re more beautiful than I remembered. With that dark hair and pale skin, you are striking.” He stared at her hair and frowned. “I saw you once at a fashion show my ex dragged me to in Milan. That is a