You Can't Choose Your Friends

My Masterpiece

[A/N] So... I've been thinking (whoops) and I think something dramatic is about to happen. Who knows... I am someone who likes to kill off her main characters. Anywho, I hope you enjoy.

I slam on my door, hoping James woudl come to shut me up. My assumption was correct, see as I actually punch James in the nose.

"James, I'm bored." I whine, "Let me go."

"No. We have plans tonight." James drops a what looks like am empty body bag into my arms. "Put that on in two hours and thirty three seconds." He glares at me, "And tonight you're not to talk, smile, or laugh. You are to remain at my side and silent."

"Why?" I ask, eyeing the bag suspiciously.

"Because I have a client and they want to see an example of my work. And if you slip up, you'll be having to clean up Johns murder." James looks away from, a disgusted look on his face. I've had enough. I was tortured two nights ago by his boyfriend and he was angry at me- the person he kidnapped- for not being his best friend.

"James, I hop you understand that you're the most disgusting human on the planet." I snarl, "And I'm horrified at the thought of being friends with you. But you have control over my best friends lives, so, I will do anything for you if you just stop whining you absolute asshole!" I take a deep breath.

"Fine." James sighs.

"Look, buddy, do I need to pat you on the back and get you a pint of ice cream while we watch Mean Girls sob about boys? Because I would much rather do that than go to your effed up meeting." I smirk, "Or do you just want to get whatever assignment you have?"

"Shut up." James rolls his eyes, "At least you get freedom. You're luckier than every other person I've kidnapped."

"Well every other person you've kidnapped didn't end up being a sarcastic asshole the pisses off your lover." I tilt my head to the side, "Sorry, I meant sniper."

"I'm going to be in my room. You... you do something that doesn't make me want to blow up London." He flashes me a psychotic smile before slipping out. Thank god that damn tension was gone. I was getting so sick of being treated like I was his reject gummy bear pile.

"Blow up London." I mock James quietly, "Effing terrorist." I decide to take a two hour and something minute nap. I turn my music on the loudest it could go (granted, it was on my phone) and crawl into bed with a good book.

Before I know it, the alarm on my phone goes off and I put down my book. Sweet. I pull out whatever was in the body bag.

"What the actual hell?" I mutter.

"I know you don't like. That's why I got. I will be waiting out here while you change so hurry up. If I'm late I won't get the job." James says trough the door.

A gown was in the bag. An actual gown. Slim at the top and poofing out at the waist. It was a shoulder strap. The top part was a silky blue, which led down to the bottom of the right side of the dress. The right, bottom side of the dress was still silk, but darker than the night sky. It was beautiful, but that made me want it less. Disgusted, I change quickly. Of course, James isn't pleased when I come out of the room without only some Chapstick on for make up and my hair down and a little messy.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." James pushes me back into my room and sits me down at a desk I haven't noticed before. There's a medium sized mirror that let his do my make up and hair quickly. When he spins my around, I'm utterly confused on how the hell he did that. My hair was wavy and silky. My lips were dark red and my cheeks weren't too rosy like they usually are.

"Dude-"

"Say nothing." He helps me stand up before chucking a pair of black pumps at me. "Put those on."