Jane knew it wasn’t her body she was bearing, and she knew Jason had seen it all before—or so she assumed—but that didn’t ease the burn on her cheeks or the sudden case of shyness threatening to extinguish the sex kitten alter ego she’d adopted. Being Monica hadn’t proven to be as carefree as Jane had expected, but it still had its advantages. The long legs, big boobs and beautiful face, for example. So why couldn’t she find the nerve to flaunt them?
Jason was absolutely to die for. Handsome, nice—she had no idea a guy who looked that good could be nice—and rich. What a package!
And speaking of package, the lump in his sweatpants looked mighty promising.
Determined to take full advantage of the situation, despite her fear, she drew in one of those deep yoga cleansing breaths and stood, caught the bottom of the sweatshirt in her hands, and knowing she’d taken off everything she’d been wearing under it earlier, including her bra, when she’d changed, she drew it over her head and looked to Jason for a reaction. He looked unimpressed! The nerve of him! What male doesn’t appreciate the sight of perky, surgically enhanced 34Ds? Figuring she had nothing to lose now, she yanked down the sweatpants and stood completely nude—a huge turn-on that was making her hot and achy all over—in front of him.
Unfortunately, it didn’t appear to have the same effect on him. He might as well have yawned in her face. Nothing stirred. He didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“Are you getting in or not?” he asked, looking a little smug, which made her uneasiness that much worse.
She couldn’t feel any stupider. “Yes.” She stepped down into the hot bubbly water and sat on the bench. Okay, so he wasn’t impressed with what Monica had. That wasn’t easy to comprehend. She was the picture of female perfection. Was he gay? “Won’t you join me?” “No, I think I’ll just watch.” “Okay.”
She decided to go for broke, since she seemed to be striking out completely. “Don’t you find me attractive anymore?” “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“Why not? We’re two adults. We should be able to talk about anything, shouldn’t we? I can accept the truth.”
“You cannot. Once you asked me if a bathing suit looked okay. I told you it wasn’t the nicest bathing suit I’ve seen and you fell apart, refused to eat for a week.”
“That was before. Try me. Do you find me attractive?”
He looked thoughtful, and she sensed he wanted to answer but feared hurting her feelings. “I promise I won’t cry or starve myself or anything too drastic.” “Why are you asking me this now?”
“Because I need to know. I want to know where we stand. If there’s hope—”
“Absolutely not. There’s no hope. We won’t get back together, no matter who you act like. You could pretend to be Mother Theresa and I wouldn’t change my mind.” “I’m not pretending to be anyone.” “No one changes this much overnight.” “I have.” “How?” “I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but it did.” “Yeah, and the minute I take you back you’ll change into the old Monica again. No thanks. I’ve had enough.” He didn’t sound as sure as his words suggested. “Can I ask a stupid question?” “I guess.”
“What exactly did I do to you?”
His mouth fell open in an exaggerated show of exasperation. “Bullshit! Now you’re going to suggest you don’t remember?”
“Humor me. I want to hear it from you.”
“We’ve had this conversation once. Frankly I don’t want to go there again.” “Please. I won’t ask again.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, clearly expecting her to acquiesce. “Please,” she repeated. “What happened between us? You sound bitter.” “I have a right to be. You’ve been a conniving bitch.”
Feeling mighty exposed sitting naked in the water while he insulted her, she squirmed and moved closer to a jet, hoping the bubbles would completely hide her body. “Specifics, please.”
“You used me. You only dated me for my money. Otherwise you pretty much treated me like trash. And speaking of trash, when I stopped handing out the cash by the fistful, you dumped me like yesterday’s leftover pizza. You refused to pay your car insurance, even after costing me tens of thousands of dollars. You shamelessly flirted with all my golfing buddies until they refused to play with me and their wives threatened divorce. You stole things from my home and did God knows what with them and the last few weeks you showed absolutely no affection toward me. To sum it up, you are a stone- cold bitch. Then, after we broke up, you sold my grandmother’s art collection to a junk dealer to get even with me.” “Wow.”
“Have you heard enough yet or do you want me to continue?”
“There’s more? No, I think I’ve heard enough. Considering all that, I’m shocked you didn’t break up with me ages ago, or at least slam the door in my face tonight.” “I tried, remember?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t know what else to say. To Jason, she was the woman who’d done all those terrible things. He believed what he saw, like most people did. There was no convincing him of anything else. “I didn’t say those things to make you feel bad. You wanted to hear it.”
“Yes, I did. Thanks for being honest. I think I’m ready to go to bed now.” She started to stand up but hesitated, wishing he’d avert his gaze while she dressed.
Thankfully, he seemed to sense her discomfort. He turned around and started walking toward the house. She got out of the tub and quickly put on the sweats, not caring that she was still dripping wet. Being soggy beat being nude, hands down.
In silence, she followed him inside and up the stairs. He escorted her to his room, said goodnight and left her to toss and turn, fearful of falling asleep yet hoping this experiment…or curse…or whatever it was…would end. Maybe being plain old Jane wasn’t so bad.
The next morning was awkward and uncomfortable as Jason drove Jane home and waited for her to dress for work. Before they left, she listened to her messages, hoping she hadn’t missed anything else important.
Monica’s answering machine tape was full of calls from angry bill collectors threatening lawsuits, utilities threatening to shut off services, and creditors threatening everything but bodily harm. As she listened to the last one, she peered around the corner, hoping Jason hadn’t heard.
Monica made tons more money than Jane. There was no reason why she should be in such financial straights. What was she doing with her money?
Jason dropped her off at work, promising to return at noon to go car shopping during her lunch hour.
She hurried through her work and took half the day off. She needed some time to sort out some things and was anxious to get her hands on Monica’s bank statements and checkbook to try to straighten out the mess she’d gotten herself into. Clearly being Monica Starke was not the cakewalk Jane had expected. Yep, being plain old Jane with the little apartment and ugly but reliable car wasn’t looking so bad anymore. It sure beat people screaming for money, angry, bitter—if positively delicious—ex-boyfriends, and a workload that would keep at least three people working full-time. Monica, the woman who had it all, didn’t have much of anything. It was all show. What a shocker.
That afternoon, Jason gave her a polite smile as he drove her to the car dealership down the road. “I want you to pick a car that’ll hold its value and be reliable as well as inexpensive to insure.”
“I know exactly what I want.” She chose a sharp-looking, black Honda Accord, and thanks to Jason’s financial clout, had it in her possession by later that afternoon. He sent her on her way with a wave, a couple hundred dollars cash, and a “Good luck”. She responded with a “Thanks”, and headed back to Monica’s house to tackle the bills.
Regardless of whether she remained Monica forever—something she hoped wouldn’t happen since she was beginning to miss her old life—or they eventually switched back, that was one thing that had to be straightened out, no matter how difficult it might be.
Pain in the backside or not, Monica deserved to live better than this.
