Terraformed Skies

by Anna Lewis

  She held her head up a little higher as she left the building, and got into the car with a huge grin on her face. She had stood her ground and it felt good. It was almost a week before she would head into the office, but she wanted to remember this moment so she could share it with Eric. He was going to be so proud of her.

  As she pulled away from the curb, she looked at the clock and realized that she was hungry. The linen place was all the way across town, and she decided to wait until Tuesday to go shopping for new sheets. She’d done enough for the day, and she really needed to rest. Exhaustion from a weekend of late nights and early mornings was creeping in on her. She wasn’t going to push herself to do too much when she had the entire week off.

  She’d earned it.

  She called her favorite restaurant, ordering enough food for lunch and dinner to go, then hanging up. It would be ready by the time she pulled into the parking lot at La Cabanita, and she knew the owner would run it out personally as soon as she pulled into the to-go spot. The day was looking up, and she couldn’t wait to get home and enjoy her mini vacation.

  Maybe I should treat myself to a spa day, she thought, then remember the redness still lingering on her skin and tossed the idea. She would enjoy her stay-cation at home. She had plenty of time to go to the spa, and this time next year, she would have plenty of money to make it a regular thing. For today, everything was perfect, and she wasn’t going to ruin the beauty of the day by wanting more than she already had.

  ***

  It was Thursday morning before Shawna finally made her way to the store after spending most of the week reading, relaxing and just enjoying the freedom. She’d never taken a vacation, and when she was between jobs, the stress of looking for another job was always too much to be able to enjoy any downtime that she had. But this was different. The check from Eric had cleared, and her account was now nearly seventy-thousand dollars. She found that until then, she hadn’t really been in the mood to shop. There was something about having more money than she normally made in a year in her account that made the prospect of shopping pleasant rather than nerve-wracking. That wasn’t to say that she was going to go on a spree, but she would certainly not be worrying about a few dollars difference between sheets when she had plenty of money to spend.

  She decided to wear a dress. Dark green and flowy, the hem skimmed the ground and the capped sleeves and plunging neckline accentuated her cleavage. It was one of her favorite dresses, and her eyes always looked so much darker when she wore it. She felt delightfully feminine in this dress, and she wished it was office attire. She might wear it every day then.

  Skipping underwear and feeling decidedly naughty, she chose a tan pair of strappy leather sandals, and quickly ran a brush through her hair. She topped off the look with a delicate pink gloss, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. She turned, gathering her skirt up and looking at her bare backside and frowning. The redness had faded, and she no longer had any outward sign of the weekend she’d shared with Eric. As silly as it was, the deep redness that had lingered for days made her memories feel more vibrant, and she longed for the feel of his lap beneath her and his leg wrapped around hers, holding her down.

  She sighed. Monday, she reminded herself. On Monday morning, she would start work as his personal assistant, working six hours a day and likely doing about half the work she had done in the secretary pool. And she was getting paid so much more than she had before. It almost seemed too good to be true, but she was trying not to be cynical. Eric was a man of his word and a good man at that. He was as committed to seeing her dreams realized as she was, and he seemed to be getting more than enough out of it in return. She drove a hard bargain, but he was definitely happy with their arrangement.

  She grabbed her keys and her purse, taking the stairs and getting into her car. She left the radio off as she had for the past few days, enjoying the quiet solitude. Her television hadn’t been turned on since she had returned from Vegas either, and the peace she was feeling was profound. She had spent her days reading, doing yoga, and taking long walks with nothing but her thoughts for company. As a result, she felt less stressed than she had in a while.

  The sensual spankings helped, too, she mused, then laughed. A quick Google search had proven enlightening, and she had found dozens of articles that supported the euphoric calm she had felt after each trip over his lap.

  She pulled into the parking lot of the mini mall that held a huge grocery store, a nail salon and the upscale linens store that she had planned to shop at. She parked between the linen store and the grocery store, making a mental note to drop her sheets off in the car when she was done and grab some groceries to restock her home.

  Her trip to the linens store was quicker than she thought, and in under thirty minutes, the salesman was helping her out to her car with new pillows, sheets, and a down comforter that she couldn’t wait to sleep under. She thanked him for his help as she opened the trunk for him, then shut it and headed into the supermarket for her groceries.

  There was a flash of light and a crack of thunder, and Shawna took off at a fast jog, eager to get into the store and out again before the rain started. She laughed to herself as the first drops fell out of the sky right before she made it through the store. So much for beating the storm that rolled in without warning.

  A man smiled at her as he stopped and gathered all his bags into two hands, winking as he spoke.

  “If you don’t like the weather in Texas, just wait five minutes,” he said, and they both laughed.

  She grabbed his empty cart and made quick work of filling it up with everything she needed, including a travel umbrella for her car.

  Getting into the line, she smiled at a woman who turned to say hi, then did a double-take before turning her attention back to the groceries that she was loading onto the register belt.

  The woman looked over her shoulder at Shawna a few more times, and Shawna looked down at her dress, wondering if the woman could tell that she was braless. Her dress had an extra fabric lining on the bust, and Shawna confirmed that nothing was visible through the fabric. The neckline was low, but not obscene, so Shawna wasn’t what the woman was looking at, but Shawna smiled every time the woman looked at her even though her smile was met with a sour expression.

  I wonder what her problem is? Shawna thought, but she decided not to let the older woman’s sour demeanor ruin her day. Things were finally going great in her life, and whatever the woman was bothered by wasn’t Shawna’s problem.

  As soon as the woman slapped down the divider, Shawna hurried to unload her cart, giving the woman plenty of space.

  The older woman paid for her items and left, but not before casting one more withering look Shawna’s way. Shawna looked away, focusing on the stand of magazines instead, hoping that the woman would hurry up and leave.

  It was then that she saw it. She gasped, reaching out and grabbing the tabloid closest to her and staring at the cover.

  Mystery Woman Parties it up with Dallas’s Most Eligible Billionaire, the headline read. And right below it was a photo of Shawna and Eric going into the fundraising gala a few weeks before. The photo took up two-thirds of the page, and captured the exact moment that Eric had pressed his lips to her cheek sweetly. Shawna was positively glowing, and the text beneath the photo made all sorts of predictions regarding who she was and how she came to be with Eric without anyone realizing it earlier.

  Her stomach dropped and she quickly flipped to the page that promised more exclusive pictures.

  There were a lot of pictures. Not just at the gala, but telephotos from her apartment when Eric had dropped her off and picked her up, and a photo of her getting onto his private plane.

  The pictures ended there, and Shawna breathed a sigh of relief, though the relief was short-lived. It was only a matter of time before there were more pictures, and who was to say that someone didn’t have pictures from their long weekend in Vegas and they just hadn’t made it to press in time?

  Sh
awna put the tabloid down on the belt, then scanned the rack and picked up another magazine with a similar headline, and pictures from the same time period. She bought that one, too. Trying to keep it together until she paid for her things and left, she searched her wallet for her bank card, then swiped it through the machine as the cashier read her total to her.

  The woman was looking at one of the tabloids and back at Shawna.

  “Do you see it?” the woman asked lightly after she instructed Shawna to hit the green button.

  “See what?”

  The card reader made a noise and Shawna handed the card to the cashier, along with her driver’s license.

  “This lady looks a lot like you. I mean, her profile does. You really can’t see her face clearly. If it were me, I would pretend I was this girl and trick my family.”

  “You would?”

  “Sure, why not? It’s not like you’re actually some high-end escort messing around with a notorious bachelor.”

  “Why do you think she’s an escort?”

  “She has to be. Eric Furst has been linked to some of the most powerful women in Dallas, and even a few Hollywood starlets. There’s no way he’d be going out with an unknown unless she was a call girl. That’s not how he operates.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this man,” Shawna said, wishing that the woman would give back her cards so that she could leave.

  “I have a bit of a crush on him. If I had known that he was into girls like this, I would have chosen another profession.”

  Shawna blushed.

  “I’m in a hurry,” she said.

  The cashier looked at her, not saying a word for a full beat before she realized what Shawna wanted.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in the moment, I forgot what I was doing for a minute.”

  The cashier laughed and Shawna smiled tensely. Thanking the woman, she took back her bank card and driver’s license, then she pushed her basket out of the store hurriedly.

  She was almost to the car when she heard someone calling out to her and she fought the urge to run the last few feet and jump in the car to speed away. Mustering her courage, she turned and saw that the cashier was running after Shawna with one of the tabloids that Shawna had purchased.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t realize I still had this in my hand,” she said, out of breath from running after Shawna. “You really do look like this woman. Too bad, because even though I would be jealous something fierce, you two would make a cute couple. You’re definitely prettier than this skank, if you ask me.”

  No one asked you.

  “Thanks,” Shawna said, taking the magazine and quickly loading her groceries in the back seat.

  The cashier stood there staring at Shawna for a minute, and Shawna awkwardly smiled at the woman.

  “Thank you again for bringing that magazine to me.”

  “You’re welcome,” the woman said.

  “I have to leave now. You have a great day.”

  She didn’t wait for the woman to respond before she closed the door and started the engine. Shawna pulled away, careful of the woman who finally turned and walked back into the store. The rain had stopped some time when Shawna was inside, and the surprise storm had moved on. Only a light drizzle remained, and like most Texans, the cashier didn’t seem to mind as she walked unhurriedly back into the store.

  Shawna couldn’t get out of that parking lot quick enough. Even though she knew it was silly, she felt like everyone was staring at her.

  Suddenly, she felt self-conscious and wished she’d worn underwear. She headed straight home grabbing as many groceries as she could in one trip, then changing into yoga pants and a loose shirt before going back out to the car to unload everything else.

  This time, she put underwear on.

  ***

  Shawna was almost to her apartment door when she looked up and froze. Her neighbor, Mrs. Caffey, was standing in the hallway, and in her hand was one of the tabloids with her picture on the front of it.

  Their eyes locked and Shawna gauged the distance from where she stood at the door and knew that she didn’t have a chance of making it before Mrs. Caffey started in on her. Blue haired and so old that even she had lost track, she knew that the old biddy was going to have something to say about the tabloid and Eric, and Shawna wasn’t sure she was up for it.

  “I guess we know who the mystery man in the limo was,” Mrs. Caffey said without preamble.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Caffey,” Shawna said sweetly.

  “I hope that you’re being careful with this man. He’s known to be a playboy.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the smut magazines,” Shawna said wryly, remember something her mother had said years before. “I hope you have a beautiful day.”

  Before Mrs. Caffey could say anything else, Shawna slipped into her apartment and shut the door.

  She turned the lock and slid the chain on, even though she rarely used more than the thumb lock on the handle during the day. A knock sounded on the door and Mrs. Caffey’s muffled words came through the wood.

  “Don’t let that man break your heart. You’ll never get over it,” she warned through the locked door, and Shawna had the sudden urge to throw something at the door just for effect. Who did that woman think she was and why was her heart any of Mrs. Caffey’s business?

  At least it’s only the paper tabloids, she thought, but even that didn’t give her much comfort.

  She looked at the clock and realized that the Dallas Celebrity News Hour was about to come on, which really was a thinly veiled attempt at honest journalism from the very people who created and printed the tabloids in the first place. Still, she should watch the talk show. Maybe knowing that she wasn’t on it would make her feel better. They certainly had much bigger stories to run than whether or not Eric Furst had a girlfriend.

  Sure that she was right, she turned on her television and flipped the channels until she found the show, sitting on the edge of the sofa and watching each story with rapt attention.

  She was thinking that she was home free when the camera panned to one of the men in the back row of low cubicles, and in his hand, he held a picture of Shawna leaving her bank Monday.

  What the hell was going on?

  “And what do you have, Steve?” the host asked off camera.

  “I have a picture of the mystery woman dating Eric Furst, and we have found out that her first name is Shawna.”

  “It’s nice to have a name to put to the face, isn’t it?” the host said.

  “There’s more,” Steve said, almost giddy with excitement.

  “Go on,” the host pushed in their carefully scripted conversation.

  “My contact at the bank tells me that Eric Furst wrote Ms. Shawna a sizable payroll check, and there’s speculation that she’s not his girlfriend, but a regular escort. It seems he favors this one woman and has hired her often enough that it’s putting a pretty sizable dent in his bank account.”

  Shawna stared at the television, her mouth hanging open and the conversation between the two men fading into the background as she grappled with what she had just heard. This couldn’t be real life. This kind of thing didn’t happen to Shawna, and what was worse was that the tabloid had it all wrong. She wasn’t an escort; she was just a woman who was hanging out with a rich man to help fund her dreams and—

  She stopped. She was an escort. Not of the classic kind, but there was almost no difference between what she was doing and what an escort did. She just didn’t bear the title, but her actions were the same.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, then realized that she felt weak and a little nauseous. She looked down at her hand, which was trembling violently at this point. They had been watching her this entire time, and they had even followed her to the bank. Were they watching her now?

  She jumped up from the sofa, then went across the living room to the bank of windows. Carefully moving the curtain to the side, she scanned the
streets beyond. That’s when she saw him; a man sitting in the car across the street with a telephoto lens attached to his camera. Shawna closed the curtain, but she knew that he’d already gotten the shot. He had been waiting who knew how long to get a picture of her in the window, and she had opened the curtains up and practically gifted it to him.

  Shawna went through her second-story apartment quickly, closing all the blinds tight and drawing the curtains closed. By the time she was finished, the midafternoon light was blocked out by her efforts, and she was left in the dark with only the dim light that crept in around the edges of the window to light her home.

  She left it like that, not even bothering to turn on the lights in the room as she climbed into her bed. Huddled in the middle, she wrapped her arms around her legs and put her head on her knees. Eyes squeezed shut, she tried to get the image of her face splashed all over the tabloids out of her mind. What was happening with her life? How could a simple date turn into a complete invasion of privacy?

  She kept her head down, fighting the urge to cry. This wasn’t what she signed on for, and what if they had followed them to Vegas and had photographed what happened there? That would be ten times worse than the world knowing that he had paid her for her company. At least right now, they likely thought she went out with him and then came home. But what would they be saying if they knew what happened in Vegas? Would her activities stay in Vegas like the city motto suggested? Or would it follow her all the way to Dallas and would everyone know then what kind of woman she really was?

  Stop it, she thought angrily. You did nothing wrong. And that was the truth. If their roles were reversed, no one would be judging the man for doing exactly what she was doing. But there was a huge double standard, especially in the south. Shawna hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was being judged as if she had. It wasn’t fair, and she wasn’t going to accept their criticism.

  She felt a little better, but only marginally so. There was still the issue of her new “job”. She started in four days, and it was only going to create more fodder for the tabloids. That was something that she didn’t want. If the events of the past few weeks brought her so much unwanted attention, she could only imagine what her new job would bring.