{The Client}

Summary- I have nothing to fear but fear itself. And my incompetent stylist. I just asked for Spanx, but his hand is raised and…this isn't going to end well.

Characters- Edward, Bella, and their many shenanigans.

Rated M- Don't tell me you're just in it for the malarkey.

Chapter One: She Did This To Herself

"You have got to be kidding me."

Staring at my appearance in the mirror, I can't believe I was talked into this. Red leather pants, a bright yellow shirt, cowboy boots that were certainly not made for walkin'…

"Ariana, you're fired!" Glaring at the person beside me, I held my hands on my hips in authority.

Look at her, sucking on her thumb all innocent-like. I would not be swayed by her charm.

My assistant Jessica shakes her head at me. "Goodness, Bella, she's three years old." Scooping up her adorable daughter, Jess consoles her pouting child with a hug.

"Okay, fine." I relent by placing a kiss on Ariana's rosy, cherubic cheek. "You're get a five dollar severance package. And a lollipop. Take it or leave it."

Ariana's blue eyes light up as she giggles and reaches for the candy in my hand. It's the least I could do. Jobless, but cute. She'll bounce back quickly.

Rolling her eyes, Jessica unwraps the lollipop and sends Ariana to play with her toys. Helping me peel out of the vagina-squeezing contraption, Jess starts again with one of her endless speeches. "Bella, you have to hire someone. I know Leah didn't work out, but this is ridiculous. You need a stylist. Award season is coming up and you don't want a repeat of last week's charity event."

No, I most certainly did not. I ordered a dress online like some sort of civilian and it ripped right on the red carpet. Serves me right. Bella Swan. Actress. Model. Butt Crack Flasher. My resume was growing by the second.

Sighing, I plop down on the hotel suite bed in only my undergarments, my brunette curls spreading around me. "I can't believe Leah left me hanging like this."

"Bella, her brother was extremely sick. She had to go back to Texas. Besides, there's a million stylists who would love to dress the Almighty Bella Swan. Paul de Lahote, Ephraim Blacke, Emilia Young…you've got your pick of the litter."

I shake my head in protest. "No way. They are already dressing everyone. I need fresh meat. Someone different. Someone with a new perspective. I want to be reinvented. A little more Best Dressed, a little less Embarrassing Star of the Week."

Patting my head, Jessica sits on the bed beside me. "We are in the one of the fashion capitals of the world. New York is where it's at! You want fresh meat, we'll find someone."

"You're right!" I exclaim, the plan developing in my head. "There's several fashion schools around here. I find someone, pluck them out of college, and hire them. It's perfect. It'll be exactly what I'm looking for."

"Wait a second," Jessica interrupts. "I didn't say anything about causing the college dropout rate to rise."

I frown at Jessica's resistance. "Listen, Jess, I know today has been hard. I mean, I almost died wearing your leather pants, your daughter was fired, and now I'm going to have to deduct from your pay because Ariana is eating chocolate from the minibar. But you have to understand, how I look changes lives. One day, future generations are going to look back at my photo and say, 'Wow, that Bella, she impacted so many with just one pair of Christian Louboutin shoes.' Then they'll all bow down and worship me."

"What about the invention of the internet, possible cures for cancer, and the development of DNA fingerprinting?" Jessica asks sarcastically. "All null and void because you made Best Dressed in People Magazine? Get over yourself."

I shrug and smirk. "You just can't let me live my life, can you?"

The pillow that hits me is much harder than I expected.

Thanks for reading & keep on laughing,