Raphael arrives

“It’s just... it’s for the aesthetic!” I stammered, my eyes darting to the lens. “Everyone in this industry uses wigs! It’s part of the performance!”

“Oh, we’re just getting started with the performance,” Diana said. She grabbed the back of my chair and spun it around, locking the wheels with her foot. She leaned over me, her breath smelling like mint gum. “You think you’re so hot, don’t you? You spend all day talking about how ‘curvy’ and ‘toned’ you are. You post those photoshopped pictures where your waist looks like a toothpick. Let’s see what’s really holding this together.”

“Don’t you touch my corset,” I whimpered. “Diana, please. This is my career.”

“Your career is built on mocking people,” Diana snapped. She reached for the front busk of the corset. I tried to swat her hands away, but she was younger and stronger. She pinned my wrists with one hand and began unhooking the metal stays with the other. “Let’s see how Raphael feels when he sees what’s under the hood.”

“Raphael?” I choked out. “He’s not watching.”

“Oh, he’s here,” Diana said with a grin. “Raphael! Get in here!”

My stomach dropped into my shoes. Raphael stepped through the door, looking as handsome as ever. He looked at me, then at the camera, then back at me. His eyes were red-rimmed.

“You ruined my life, Ivanna,” he said, his voice cracking. “Everyone at work calls me ‘The Pip.’ You told the whole world about my... my problem.”

“Because it was funny!” I yelled. “It was content!”

“Well, now you’re the content,” Diana said. She finished unhooking the corset. The heavy leather fell open, and as it did, two large blocks of beige upholstery foam tumbled out of the cups and bounced onto the carpet.