by Ruff, K. S.
Scary Face Barbie stared at me. I suspected the blank look was the only expression she could muster. “Why do you need a bodyguard?” she asked.
“My ex-boyfriend’s in the Russian mafia,” I responded flippantly. I patted Jase on the arm and followed him down the aisle. “That was awesome,” I whispered when we got back to the couch.
“I’m glad I could help,” he replied with a wink. He handed me the pile of dresses. “What was up with that woman’s face?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes dramatically. “I think someone squirted a little too much Botox in all the wrong places.”
“Either that or her dermatologist is doing acid,” he replied. An elderly couple scampered to the far end of the couch when he reclaimed his seat. “Think you can stay out of trouble in there?” he asked as I walked toward the dressing room.
I laughed. “I’ll holler if I need you.”
“Hey, Kri. Is that you?” Cenia called.
I turned toward the sound of her voice. “Yes. Where are you?”
“Third dressing room on the right hand side,” she replied. She cracked the door open.
“I’ve got six dresses. I can go get more, but I thought I might as well get you started with these,” I explained as I neared the door. I stepped inside the dressing room. “I think you’re going to need some help pulling these over your head. There’s miles of fabric in some of these dresses.” I tucked the dress with the pretty blue flowers in the back as I hung the dresses on the hook. I wanted Cenia to try on a few of the more traditional dresses before she saw it, since it was a little unconventional with the long green leaves and pretty blue flowers embroidered along the bodice and the bottom of the skirt.
Cenia started getting undressed. “Can you help me? I think the woman who was assigned to me got stuck helping someone else. Some really obnoxious women came in on the wrong day and demanded to be seen because they’d driven two hours to get here. They were supposed to come tomorrow, but the manager conceded because they made such a huge stink.”
I unzipped the first garment bag and pulled the dress out. “Was it the bubblegum blowing bimbo and Scary Face Barbie who made the big stink?”
Cenia laughed. “That describes them to a tee.”
“That figures,” I muttered. “Okay, don’t judge the dress on the hanger. You really need to try these on to fully appreciate how they look.” I pulled the first dress over her head and tightened the strings on the corset once the dress settled around her waist.
“I don’t know about these sheer sleeves,” she said, scowling into the mirror.
“Let’s take a look in the three way mirror before you decide,” I suggested. I gathered up the long train, opened the door, and followed her out of the dressing room.
Cenia stepped onto one of the large carpeted pedestals.
“Face Jase,” I said, fluffing the skirt and pulling the train out behind her. “You can look over your shoulder at the three-way to see the back of the dress.” Once the dress was appropriately displayed, I perched on the arm of the couch next to Jase. “What do you think?”
He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“The corset and the train are really pretty, but I don’t like the sleeves or the neckline,” Cenia replied.
I jumped up from the couch. “Okay. That one’s definitely out.” I gathered up the train so we could walk back to the dressing room. I tugged the corset loose so Cenia could step out of the dress. I tucked the dress back inside the garment bag and hung it on a hook outside the room before pulling the second dress over her head.
She smoothed her hands down the delicately beaded bodice. “I like the front of this dress.”
“Let’s show Jase,” I replied, gathering up the train. I got her situated on the pedestal before glancing at Jase. “What do you think?”
His face scrunched up while he studied the dress. Eventually, he nodded. “That’s better.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “But it doesn’t make you swoon?”
He glanced at the couple next to him before scowling at me. “I don’t swoon. Ever.”
I gathered up the train. “Wrong dress,” I announced.
“What? Why?” Cenia asked in a bewildered voice.
I dropped the train and stood in front of her. “Do you love it? I mean really love it, can’t live without it, will die if you have to take it off?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the three way mirror. “I like it, but no. I’m not in love with the dress.”
I nudged her toward the dressing room. “He’s not swooning, and you’re not in love with the dress. That makes this the wrong dress.”
We repeated the process with the next three dresses. I made Cenia close her eyes for the sixth dress. “No peeking,” I repeated as I escorted her to the pedestal. I was practically giddy. The strapless dress looked amazing with her delicate-but-cut shoulders and arms. The warm ivory material complemented her caramel colored skin tone. The bodice was snug, and the full skirt accentuated her tiny waist.
Jase leaned forward on the couch when she stepped onto the pedestal. “Holy shit,” he breathed.
I got the dress situated, then backed away. “Okay. Open your eyes.”
Cenia’s breath caught when she looked down at the dress. Her hands trembled as they brushed over the pretty blue flowers and the thin green leaves spiraling up the bodice. When she peered over her shoulder, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh my God. This is it. This is the dress I want Roger to see when I walk down the aisle. I’m done. I’m truly done. I don’t want to try on any other dress.”
I swiped a stray tear from my cheek as I sat next to Jase. “Do you like it?” I inquired softly, still gazing at my friend.
“That dress makes me want to fight Roger for the rights to marry her,” Jase growled in a threatening tone.
Cenia’s eyes widened.
I laughed. “I think we’ve got a winner!”
* * * * *
“Where are we going?” I asked Rafael as he tucked me inside the Enzo. He had insisted on taking me out to celebrate the end of summer semester.
He slid into the driver’s seat. “We have reservations at Georgia Brown’s. They’re playing live jazz tonight.”
“Jazz sounds nice,” I murmured distractedly. I caressed the soft leather seats as the doors slid closed. “God, I love this car.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he backed out of the garage. “Anytime you’re ready to get rid of that jeep,” he responded teasingly.
My jaw fell open. “You’d buy me an Enzo if I got rid of my jeep?”
He chuckled as he turned onto King Street. “Baby, I’d buy you a diamond encrusted Mercedes if I thought it would motivate you to get rid of that jeep. I’m still waiting for that phone call telling me you’re stranded on the side of the road… and with your luck, it will be late at night, when you’re heading home from school.”
“There’s no such thing as a diamond encrusted Mercedes,” I argued uncertainly.
“That Saudi prince I was asked to protect last week owns a diamond encrusted Mercedes,” Rafael countered as he rolled up to a stoplight.
“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s insane, but I’m still not giving up the jeep. There’s too many memories tied to that vehicle. It’s one of the few things still connecting me to Montana.”
He eased through the intersection. “I’d still like to have a mechanic take a look at it. Maybe we can install a new engine and transmission, so it’s a little safer to drive. You can drive the Lincoln Navigator while the improvements are being made.”
“I don’t know,” I responded hesitantly. “I’ll think about it.”
He glanced over at me as he turned onto Washington Street. “How long do you have before fall semester begins?”
“I only have a week off,” I replied sullenly. I gazed out the window at the historic homes, many of which had been converted into storefronts. I missed the first semester of graduate school when Michael dragged me off to Paris. I�
��d signed up for summer semester to catch up on my credit hours. It wasn’t easy juggling school after everything I’d been through in Ukraine. My professors had waived the attendance requirement and granted me an extension on the first few assignments so I could bury Michael in Saint-Tropez. I’d been left with very little time to grieve when I was grinding out June’s coursework alongside everything that was due in July. I had essentially completed three months’ worth of assignments in two months’ time.
“And you’re helping Cenia with her wedding invitations tomorrow,” Rafael confirmed, coaxing me from my thoughts.
I tore my eyes from the window so I could study him instead. “Yes. I’m heading over there around two o’clock. She asked me to invite you for dinner. Roger’s grilling kabobs.”
Surprise lit his handsome face. “Will Kadyn be there?”
I shook my head. “No. I think Cenia would like to get to know you better. I think she’s come to terms with the fact that we’re together, and she doesn’t want you to think she’s trying to sabotage our relationship by asking Kadyn and me to be in the wedding… not to mention the dance lessons.”
Rafael’s knuckles whitened against the black leather steering wheel. “When do you guys start your dance lessons?” he asked, merging onto I-395.
“In two weeks,” I replied.
“Try to keep your schedule open for next week,” he advised. He merged onto 14th Street and turned left toward the National Mall.
I fixed my eyes on the Washington Monument. “I’m not planning a single thing for next week. In fact, I may just crawl into bed tonight and refuse to leave until school starts back up again.”
He grinned. “If you’re planning to hole up in bed, I’m going to take the week off and join you.”
I just shook my head.
Rafael parked his jet black Ferrari alongside the curb, next to a small park. “The restaurant is over there,” he noted, pointing toward the other side of the park.
I didn’t look at where he was pointing. I was too busy watching a homeless man sort through his meager belongings on the park bench. It looked like he might be staking out a place to sleep for the night. I made a mental note to call Patrick to see what had become of the Homeless Health Improvement Act we’d been working on.
The doors on the Enzo lifted, the soft hum tugging me from my silent contemplation. Rafael was offering me his hand before I could even think to step out of the car. “Thanks,” I murmured as I peeled my eyes from the homeless man. I felt insanely guilty stepping out of such a luxurious car when that poor man didn’t even have a place to sleep.
Rafael tucked me under his arm as the doors slid closed. “We’ll buy him dinner,” he offered, easily tracking where my thoughts had gone.
I burrowed closer to his chest. “Sounds good.”
We followed the sidewalk through the center of the park before crossing the street and entering the restaurant. Rafael checked in with the hostess. She led us to a small table, draped in linen, alongside a short cherry wood wall.
Rafael tucked me into the chair facing the jazz band before taking the seat opposite me. “What do you think?”
I studied the dimly lit restaurant. The small amount of light that was hovering over the wall sconces reflected off a tangle of burnished gold ribbons that sprouted from the pillars and wove all across the ceiling. It was as if we were eating beneath a gnarled oak tree under a moon drenched sky. The privacy walls lent an intimate atmosphere to an otherwise crowded restaurant. The jazz vocalist was commanding enough attention to render most of the guests speechless. Everyone seemed content to sit back, enjoy the music, the food, and the wine. “I like it,” I promptly replied.
Rafael smiled before glancing down at his menu. “Me too.” He studied the one page menu briefly. “I’m going to order the jambalaya. What are you having?”
“Shrimp and grits,” I announced, setting the menu aside.
The waitress stopped in front of our table. “Are you ready to order?” she asked. She glanced at me as she poured ice water into our glasses from a silver pitcher that was fogged with condensation.
“Shrimp and grits,” I replied. “No soup or salad. I’m saving room for dessert.” The woman at the table across from us was eating bread pudding. A thick, rich caramel sauce dripped from her fork every time she lifted it to her mouth. I could smell the salted caramel even though she was seated a few feet away. I was sorely tempted to order dessert first.
“I think we should order the fried green tomatoes for an appetizer,” Rafael remarked. “I’d like the jambalaya and a bottle of the finest Riesling Spatlese you offer. We would also like to buy dinner for the gentleman who appears to be sleeping in the park across the street.”
She nodded. “That’s John. He sleeps there pretty regularly. The cook sends food out to him a couple times a week.”
Rafael’s face brightened. “Do you happen to know his favorite dish?”
“The fried chicken with mashed potatoes and collard greens,” she replied knowingly.
“Can you add that to our tab and have someone take it out to him?” Rafael asked.
“I’d also like you to offer him some dessert,” I chimed in, “and something to drink.”
She smiled. “He’s rather fond of our sweet tea. We’ll hook him up. I’ll be back shortly with the wine and a basket of warm bread.”
Rafael gathered my hand in his as he reached across the table. “Feel better?”
I nodded.
“Have you decided whether you’re going to resume working at Seeds for Peace?” he asked, settling back against his seat.
I took a sip of water while I sorted through my response. I still felt conflicted about my decision, and I knew Rafael didn’t want me to continue working for the organization. “I would like to continue working for them. Paul has offered to let Shae and me work exclusively from DC, conducting research and developing training materials. We won’t have to travel abroad for any of the trainings until we decide we’re ready to take on another trip. He’s been very accommodating with the sabbatical, and I don’t think he’s going to pressure us to do anything we’re not ready to do, given what happened in Ukraine.”
Rafael’s eyes darkened. “He should be accommodating. Your life was threatened because he sent you to Ukraine without a security detail.”
I shook my head. “I doubt that would have deterred the SVR. I had security guards. Remember? You assigned Ethan and Brady to protect me.”
“Maxim wouldn’t have been permitted anywhere near you if you had been assigned a visible security detail… if I hadn’t been trying to hide the fact that Ethan and Brady were watching over you. If you hadn’t gotten involved with Maxim, you wouldn’t have met Prime Minister Azarov. The prime minister wouldn’t have offered you a job, and the SVR wouldn’t have been able to use you to force them to extend the lease allowing the Russian naval fleet to remain in Sevastopol,” Rafael noted bitterly.
“Maxim was trying to protect me,” I argued softly.
“His interest in you extended far beyond that,” he snapped. He sighed heavily. “Regardless of his intentions, your involvement with him made you an even greater target.”
Our debate came to an abrupt stop when the waitress delivered the bread and wine. Rafael sampled the wine and nodded his approval. His attention returned to me as soon as the waitress walked away. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin dinner with this conversation. What’s done is done, and there is no undoing it. If you are going to work for Seeds for Peace, I just want to know there’s a plan in place to keep you safe if you decide to travel for another assignment.”
I stared sullenly into my wine. “Paul said he was changing the policy. He’s planning to send the training teams with a security detail from this point forward. I think they’re still accepting bids for that contract, if you’re interested.”
Rafael shook his head. “I prefer to work in the United States, as do most of the men working at my security firm.” He moved his chair
so we could sit on the same side of the table. He tilted my face toward his once he reclaimed the seat. “If you decide to travel for work, to teach at another university, I want you to promise me that you’ll let me accompany you.” He put his finger on my lips when I began to object. “I know Paul is going to assign his own security detail. That’s fine, but I will not trust your security to anyone else, and it is not fair of you to ask me to do so, not after everything we’ve been through.”
A single tear slid down my cheek. “I promise,” I finally conceded.
Rafael brushed the tear aside with his thumb before kissing me on the cheek. “Where do they plan to sponsor the next training?” he asked. His arm rested comfortably against the back of my seat.
“India and Pakistan,” I replied. “The two trainings are scheduled back to back, but I’m not attending either one of them.”
He handed me the wine I’d previously abandoned. “Good.”
We settled in to enjoy the jazz vocalist when the fried green tomatoes arrived. We both had a clear view of the band, now that Rafael was sitting on my side of the table. He waited until after we’d eaten dinner and I had a couple of glasses of wine in me before he posed the question I suspected he’d been planning all night. “I want you to tell me one thing… nothing too big… but something you’ve been dreaming of doing.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice strained.
He brought my hand to his lips as his eyes sought mine. “I told you the other night. We are going to build new dreams, Kristine, and we’re going to work toward them together.”
Fear, insecurity, and dread jockeyed for position while I considered his request.
The waitress stopped by with two steaming mugs of coffee, bread pudding, and peach cobbler. Both desserts were served warm with a side of vanilla bean ice cream.
“Well?” Rafael inquired encouragingly. He nudged the coffee a little closer to me.