by Lara Hunter
“Astra!” Susan exclaimed, embracing and air-kissing a plump woman with short, spikey pink hair as we entered the salon. “Wonderful to see you.”
“It’s always good to see you, Miss Pace. I was surprised to see you on my books again so soon, though. Was there a problem with your last cut?” Astra looked worried. Susan laughed and laid a hand on her arm.
“Not at all, dear,” Susan said. “I’m afraid the appointment is for a client of mine. Astra, this is Alice Clarke, a friend of Harvey’s. She’s moved here from Britain a few months ago and needs a look that suits her new home.”
“Great to meet you, Miss Clarke,” Astra said, shaking my hand. Her eyes were on my hair. I could almost hear the gears turning in her mind. “May I?” she asked, pointing to my hair.
“Yes, of course,” I said.
She picked up handfuls of my fiery red curls.
“Lucky girl,” Astra said. “There are women who would pay thousands of dollars for this hair, and I could still never make theirs quite like this.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“How big of a change are you thinking?” she asked me.
“Well, I don’t know—” I started to answer.
“Dramatic,” Susan said for me. “Her hair is lovely, but a bit too precious for her position here. She’s an heiress who’s taking a more involved hand in her family’s company. We need people to take her seriously, see her as an actual grown-up, you know.”
I held my smile in place, trying not to be insulted.
Astra nodded. “I can understand that. This is a bit sexy for the boardroom.”
“So, something shorter, I was thinking. And a color change. And tone down the curls,” Susan said.
“I can definitely do that,” Astra said. “How about we take it up to shoulder length, layer it a bit, and do some soft waves rather than the natural curls?” This time she directed the question to Susan rather than me. Astra was a quick learner.
“Yes, sounds great,” Susan said. “And the color change – it needs to be obvious. Make her so that her own family wouldn’t recognize her.” She laughed. I laughed with her.
“Hmm,” Astra said. “Normally I would recommend a honey brown, maybe auburn, but if we want it more drastic, we can go closer to blonde, with some auburn lowlights. How does that sound?”
It sounded like something I’d never, ever pick for myself, but, once again, she wasn’t really asking me.
“Yes, do it,” Susan said. “Remember, we’re trying to take her from Baywatch to Forbes.”
“Not a problem,” Astra said. “Come with me, Alice, and we’ll get you shampooed.”
Before we were done at the salon, I’d been washed, cut, colored, relaxed, manicured, painted, powdered and waxed to within an inch of my life. Looking at myself in the mirror, though, I had to admit that Susan knew what she was doing.
“Remarkable,” I said, touching the pale, chin-length waves of my hair. My eyebrows were softly defined now, and I’d received a professional makeup application, complete with a lesson for how I could reproduce the look on my own later.
“You’re welcome,” Susan said. She gave Astra a credit card. I couldn’t imagine the sum she’d spent on me today. It sometimes took me weeks to scrape together the money just for a decent haircut.
When we left the salon, we were loaded down with bags of makeup, brushes, hair products, and styling tools. The valet brought Susan’s car up, and we loaded the bags inside.
“The clothes are being sent straight to your apartment. If you need a refresher on any of the hair styling or makeup application techniques, let me know,” Susan said. “I’ll come by and go through it with you again. Do not leave the apartment if you’re not sure you’ve got it right. Got it? So much of the lying we do isn’t with words. Looking the part is going to be half the job for you, dear Alice.”
“Thank you for all your help,” I said, meaning it despite myself. “I wouldn’t have known where to start. This… isn’t a world that I’m used to.”
“Well, you’re doing just fine,” Susan said. “It’s no secret I think Harvey is nuts for trying this, but not because it won’t work. People mostly don’t pay attention to other people, especially women. Look how they expect you to, be pleasant and not too interesting, and no one will notice a thing. Honestly, it’s going to be quite boring for you. You’re going to wish you were really working on – did you say it was a cruise ship?”
I laughed, “Yes, tacky dinner theater.”
“That actually sounds like terrific fun,” she said. “An overacted, melodramatic murder mystery for fat tourists eating prime rib and drinking cocktails. Off shift you get drunk with the wait staff and lay in the sun. You’re going to be wishing for that after a few weeks of sales conference mixers and charity golf tournaments.”
“Maybe so,” I admitted. “But I’ll have to make the best of it. A girl’s gotta work.”
“So I’ve been told,” Susan said.
~ ~ ~
We pulled up in front of my apartment building. The doorman came out and took my bags. I tried to react as if that were entirely normal for me, as if I wasn’t a girl who was far more used to carrying her own groceries up three flights through a dirty stairwell by herself every week.
“Have a lovely evening,” Susan said, clasping my hands. “Your dress for tonight has been laid out. There are some other things in your closets and drawers, but the majority will arrive in the next few days.”
I thanked her again and followed the doorman up to my new apartment. Once he’d set my bags down and left, I found my way to my bedroom. It was decorated as nicely as the rest of the place, but the colors in here were a bit softer than the muted neutrals in the living area. There was a huge, four-poster king-sized bed covered with soft, coral-colored linens. Rather than wood, the floors here were covered with thick, ivory carpet. In addition to the bed, there was a settee, a dressing table, two dressers, and a full-length mirror in the room, all made from the same dark, mahogany wood.
As Susan had promised, there was a garment bag laying across the bed. Beside it was a smaller shopping bag and a shoe box. I unzipped the bag and found one of the dresses I had tried on today, a wine-colored cocktail dress with soft, draping fabric and a low back. I opened the shoe box and found a pair of gorgeous pumps, a shade darker than the dress. In the bag, I found a gold clutch, as well as hose and jewelry – simple gold stud earrings and a pendant necklace with a red stone. I wondered briefly if the jewelry were real, unable to imagine the expense, and also unable to imagine Susan Pace ever buying costume jewelry, even if it was only for her brother’s costume girlfriend.
My phone rang. I found it in my purse and answered it, without my accent.
“Hello, Alice.” It was Harvey.
“Hello,” I said, switching the Brit back on. Unexpectedly, he laughed.
“You’re a quick learner,” he said.
Unexpectedly, I found myself smiling.
“I do my best,” I said.
“I’m just finishing up at the office,” he said. “I’ll come by to get you for dinner after that. Be ready in an hour.”
“Yes, I can do that,” I said, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t phrased it as a question.
“I’ll see you in a bit, then,” he said, and hung up.
If nothing else, Harvey Pace was punctual. I was just slipping on my heels when, an hour later, he knocked on my apartment door. I wondered if he had a key, then decided that I didn’t want to know.
I opened the door to let him in. His face showed his shock plainly as he took in my new appearance. I touched my hair nervously and felt my face flush.
“Susan told them what to do to me,” I stammered, almost cursing as I realized I forgot to use my accent. Harvey didn’t seem to notice.
“Alice,” he said, staring at me. “You are more beautiful than I’d realized.”
After a moment, he cleared his throat, and shook his head, as if to clear it.
; “We have reservations at eight,” he said. “Shall we be going?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, remembering my accent this time. He smiled and raised an eyebrow, letting me know that he had noticed my slip earlier. I gave him a chagrined look and grabbed my new purse.
At the restaurant, the maître d greeted Harvey warmly.
“Mister Pace,” he said. “Welcome. We have your table ready.” He led us to a table out of the way of the main dining area, near a window. The waiter came around a moment later, and Harvey ordered a bottle of wine.
“I should ask you what kind of wine you like,” Harvey said when the waiter was gone. “Or if you even drink.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have that intel already,” I said, unable to resist. At least I remembered to be British this time.
“Fair enough,” Harvey said, nodding to me. “I suppose I had that coming.”
“I’d say so,” I said.
The waiter brought the wine then. I watched with fascination as he and Harvey performed that ritual I’d only ever seen in television and movies: waiter opens the wine, guest sniffs the cork, waiter pours a bit, guest tastes the wine and nods to the waiter, who then pours the wine into glasses.
“I do drink wine,” I said, when the waiter had left us alone to sip wine and ponder the menus. “I usually choose white, but this is very nice, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
I scanned the menu. The dishes were named in French, and even with the descriptions, I couldn’t determine much beyond whether they were chicken, fish, or beef. I ignored the impossible prices next to the names of the dishes. Not my problem; he’d picked this place.
“Do you have any recommendations?” I asked.
“You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” he asked; I shook my head. “In that case, the duck is quite good. Or the swordfish, if you prefer seafood.”
“I think I’ll try the duck,” I said. I didn’t say aloud that I’d never eaten duck before that I could recall. I was already feeling like enough of a country mouse. Even with my expensive clothes and hairstyle, I felt as though everyone in the restaurant could see through my disguise to what I really was: a poor working girl pretending she wasn’t comically out of place.
“Try to relax,” Harvey said, as if he knew what I were thinking. “You’re doing fine, following my lead when you’re not sure. That’s excellent. That will work in most situations for us.”
“Hmm,” I said, keeping my eyes on my menu.
“Now, what does that sound mean?” Harvey asked, narrowing his eyes a little.
“Nothing,” I said. “Only that I’m not particularly used to letting someone else take the lead.”
“Well, I trust you’ll find a way to play that role as well,” he said dryly.
“I’m sure I will,” I said.
Once we’d ordered our food, Harvey got down to what was apparently the business for tonight.
“We should discuss our backstory in more detail,” he said. “So we’re consistent when we talk about it to others.”
“Seems like a good idea,” I agreed.
“Our relationship is new, but not too new. Say, two months? But we’ve kept it quiet, because of the press,” he said.
“And where did we meet?” I asked, and took a bite of my duck. It was amazing; I resisted the urge to close my eyes as I enjoyed the rich, buttery texture of the meat.
“Through a mutual friend, I’m thinking,” Harvey said. “At a dinner party.”
It made sense. It wouldn’t be suitable for the impeccable Harvey Pace to get serious with a girl he picked up at a bar, or the laundromat. I tried to imagine Harvey doing his own laundry and found I couldn’t.
“And what do we do together, for fun?” I asked, blushing as I realized how unintentionally suggestive my wording was. “I don’t mean— You know, do we play bridge, or…?”
Harvey tried to hide a smile. His hair fell across his forehead as he ducked his head.
Whatever else he is, I thought. He certainly is handsome.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “What do you enjoy doing? It won’t work well for me to say that we enjoy, say, tennis, if you don’t know how to play.”
“I’ve played a few times,” I said. “But I’m terrible. Softball?”
He shook his head.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I played lacrosse in school, and now I play tennis and racquetball socially. Golf once in a while when I have time, but that’s more for networking than enjoyment.”
“I’ve never picked up a club,” I said. “This is tricky, isn’t it?”
“It just takes planning, like anything else that must be done well. This is why we’re going into this prepared,” he said, cutting his steak with precise movements.
“And you’re always prepared,” I said.
“I have to be,” he said. “You should understand that, Alice. A performance doesn’t go well without rehearsal, after all.”
“That’s true,” I said. “But not everything is a performance.”
“You’d be surprised,” he said.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Fortunately, he moved along.
“We don’t need to have hobbies in common,” he said. “Most couples I know don’t. People are most likely to ask about you, so we need that story nailed down.”
“You sister told her hairdresser that I was an heiress,” I said.
“Yes, that’s what we were thinking for you. It will cover your lack of knowledge of business practices. People don’t expect you to know much when you inherit your company.”
I remembered that Harvey had inherited his; he must have dealt with a lot of doubters in the beginning. I wondered if that was what had driven him to push so hard to succeed, and be so ruthless in the process. Not that it really mattered why for families like mine, the ones he’d trampled on his way to the top.
“What kind of company?” I asked. “I’ll have to know that much, I’m sure.”
“Let’s keep it simple, call it an investment firm. That can mean almost anything. You’re over here ostensibly to explore the U.S. market for opportunities, but your parents are actually just keeping you busy and out from underfoot of the real work.”
“How very flattering for me,” I said.
“It’s to protect you, Alice, as well as me,” he said. “It’s a common enough thing to happen, when there’s a family business and a family member hasn’t made themselves adequately useful yet. Telling it this way will be an easier cover to maintain. If we make you a high-powered CFO or something, you’re going to get a lot more scrutiny, have to answer a lot more questions.”
“Okay, then,” I said reluctantly. “I’m daddy’s girl playing business lady in America. We met at a dinner party given by a business acquaintance of my family, and have been an item ever since. If people ask about what we enjoy doing, I’ll just talk about how busy your work keeps you, and how we just enjoy spending whatever time we can together.”
“Sounds perfect,” he said.
“Is this the kind of woman you usually date?” I asked.
“I don’t usually date,” Harvey said.
“But the pictures…”
“One night, here and there, always different women, and only if it’s an event where I would be out of place going stag. The girl and I always know it’s not serious; most of them are just friends of mine. But reporters like to make it more interesting than that.”
“And something more serious – you don’t want that,” I said.
“No, not anymore,” he said. “I used to think that I did, but it was a mistake.”
“Why is that?” I could tell that I was pushing things, but couldn’t help my curiosity.
“Because it’s not fair,” he said. “Not to the girl, and not to my work.” He turned his attention back to his food. The subject was apparently closed.
When we’d finished the meal, Harvey walked out to the street with me, where Ted w
as waiting with the car. As we came out the front doors of the restaurant, Harvey’s eyes locked to something over my shoulder and he stiffened, then relaxed just as quickly. In a smooth, natural motion, he pulled me into his arms, pressing my body to his. My eyes widened, but before I could make a sound of protest, he leaned in and whispered in my ear.
“There are some associates of mine walking this way,” he said. His warm breath in my ear made me shiver. “Are you ready, Alice?”
I understood what he was asking. I put on a besotted smile as I nodded against his shoulder.
He pulled back and cupped the back of my head in his hand. He looked into my eyes adoringly for a long moment before he leaned in. As he kissed me, I tried to focus on my character, on being that other Alice, the one I’d been hired to be, the one whose entire world had been lit up by Harvey. But his mouth moved on mine, and his hands held me with gentle strength, and all thoughts of my craft flew away from me.