melodramatic. And against a white wall or a pale sky it shone and attracted the eye, which was then obliged to carry on and see the face with the greenish eyes. She straightened her back so that her breasts became visible in the mirror. They were too small, but Zako was firm about not having them enlarged, at least not yet; they suited her young girl image. Like something out of a Jane Austen novel, he said. Zako had never read Jane Austen. Nor had she, for that matter.
The mobile buzzed again. Message from Rikke. Liss, we’re in the Café Alto. Cool music, Zako’s asking about you .
A flash of anger passed through her. He’d started sending her messages via Rikke. Thought she still didn’t know he was sleeping with her. Rikke had let it slip one morning over a week ago. She could read Rikke. Could read most people. The look in Rikke’s eyes was different that morning. The laughter a note higher than usual. When Liss asked if she’d seen any more of Zako that night, she’d dropped the breadknife on the floor. Confessed immediately. As though there was anything to confess. So what ,was Liss’s comment once she’d told the whole story. Rikke had been expecting her to flare up and make a scene. When that didn’t happen, she declared that Liss was the best friend she’d ever had, and that she was never going to let Zako feel her up any more. But how was she going to resist? Zako had done a thorough job on her. Taken her in such a way that she went around thinking about it for days afterwards, waiting to be taken again in exactly the same way. Walked around dreaming about him in a complete daze. He had her in his pocket. Literally, thought Liss, and noticed a smile in the now make-up-less face in the mirror.
She’d realised immediately once Rikke began doing little favours for him. Got him coke if he’d run out. Rang for a taxi when he was leaving. Rubbed her bulging arse up against his crotch every chance she got. Liss laughed at her on the quiet. To see Rikke as a panting bitch was liberating. Probably because she knew Zako would never get that kind of hold over her . Liss didn’t need him and wasn’t afraid to tell him that. Then he might talk nasty and be threatening. She owed him money, he might say. And didn’t he pay for the flat she shared with Rikke? He kept far too much of what she earned on her photo shoots, she might come back at him. Soon she’d have enough good contacts to run the show herself. She didn’t need a PhD in economics to make a few phone calls and read through a few contracts. She owed him for coke, he growled. Do you mean to say you’re making all this fuss over a few thousand kroner? she might shoot back. Do you want it now? Damn it, Liss, get a grip, he would hiss, but he’d already been driven back, way back inside his own territory.
One morning, this was in the little kitchen in the flat, he’d grabbed both her arms, twisted them behind her and pushed her up against the fridge. It hurt, she had bruises for several days after, but she looked him straight in the eye without showing the slightest sign of pain. He could have hit her, in the course of a few minutes destroyed her physically. But she wasn’t afraid of him. His threats aroused nothing but her contempt, and that made her different from all the other girls he had. She didn’t need him. He needed her. He’d realised that a long time ago, but he still laboured under the delusion that she hadn’t realised. He’d made a few connections for her. A lot of them were useless, because she had no intention of going into pornography. Only a handful of the photographers he knew had other ambitions. She’d try them. Not commit herself. Not be tempted by empty promises. Zako wanted her to stop taking the design classes, thought it took up too much time. She had no plans to stop. Had enough talent to get some use from it. The modelling jobs were just a series of tests: what sort of effect did her picture have on others, and why?
The mobile buzzed again. Message from Rikke. Liss, we’re in the Café Alto. Cool music, Zako’s asking about you .
A flash of anger passed through her. He’d started sending her messages via Rikke. Thought she still didn’t know he was sleeping with her. Rikke had let it slip one morning over a week ago. She could read Rikke. Could read most people. The look in Rikke’s eyes was different that morning. The laughter a note higher than usual. When Liss asked if she’d seen any more of Zako that night, she’d dropped the breadknife on the floor. Confessed immediately. As though there was anything to confess. So what ,was Liss’s comment once she’d told the whole story. Rikke had been expecting her to flare up and make a scene. When that didn’t happen, she declared that Liss was the best friend she’d ever had, and that she was never going to let Zako feel her up any more. But how was she going to resist? Zako had done a thorough job on her. Taken her in such a way that she went around thinking about it for days afterwards, waiting to be taken again in exactly the same way. Walked around dreaming about him in a complete daze. He had her in his pocket. Literally, thought Liss, and noticed a smile in the now make-up-less face in the mirror.
She’d realised immediately once Rikke began doing little favours for him. Got him coke if he’d run out. Rang for a taxi when he was leaving. Rubbed her bulging arse up against his crotch every chance she got. Liss laughed at her on the quiet. To see Rikke as a panting bitch was liberating. Probably because she knew Zako would never get that kind of hold over her . Liss didn’t need him and wasn’t afraid to tell him that. Then he might talk nasty and be threatening. She owed him money, he might say. And didn’t he pay for the flat she shared with Rikke? He kept far too much of what she earned on her photo shoots, she might come back at him. Soon she’d have enough good contacts to run the show herself. She didn’t need a PhD in economics to make a few phone calls and read through a few contracts. She owed him for coke, he growled. Do you mean to say you’re making all this fuss over a few thousand kroner? she might shoot back. Do you want it now? Damn it, Liss, get a grip, he would hiss, but he’d already been driven back, way back inside his own territory.
One morning, this was in the little kitchen in the flat, he’d grabbed both her arms, twisted them behind her and pushed her up against the fridge. It hurt, she had bruises for several days after, but she looked him straight in the eye without showing the slightest sign of pain. He could have hit her, in the course of a few minutes destroyed her physically. But she wasn’t afraid of him. His threats aroused nothing but her contempt, and that made her different from all the other girls he had. She didn’t need him. He needed her. He’d realised that a long time ago, but he still laboured under the delusion that she hadn’t realised. He’d made a few connections for her. A lot of them were useless, because she had no intention of going into pornography. Only a handful of the photographers he knew had other ambitions. She’d try them. Not commit herself. Not be tempted by empty promises. Zako wanted her to stop taking the design classes, thought it took up too much time. She had no plans to stop. Had enough talent to get some use from it. The modelling jobs were just a series of tests: what sort of effect did her picture have on others, and why?
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