by Suzie Carr
****
Across phone lines and Internet connections, I could sweep the growing affinity out of the way and remain strong. But, in nine more hours, I’d be face to face with her again.
“Remember to dress casual tonight, okay?” I said before ending our call.
“Yes, baby, I’ll remember.”
I loved when she called me baby. “I’ll pick you up at seven, then?”
“Seven it is,” she said.
When we hung up, I still had a half hour before Sharon would get in to work. So, I decided to check out the sketch I initially drew of Haley and see if I could clean it up in any areas. I planned to give it to her that night.
Earlier that week, when I first told her I was an artist, she showed immediate interest. “You have to draw me a picture.”
“I already did.”
“What is it of?” she asked.
“You.”
“Get out of here!”
“Do you want to see it?”
“It had better be in your car Friday night.”
I couldn’t wait to show it to her. With coffee by my side, and in an empty fiche room, I polished it.
When Sharon finally strode in thirty minutes later with a box of powered donuts for her and a bag of oranges for me, the picture was complete.
She lifted a magazine from under her arm and handed it to me. “I brought in Vogue for you, too.’’
I flipped through the stylistic pictures and ads and balked at all the sneaky hooks advertisers sandwiched in those pages. Temptation was everywhere, grabbing at my limbs, pulling me to it. The lure of “newer,” “better,” “more improved” called out to people like me to abandon our old ways of viewing the world and take on more gratifying ones. These advertisers were smart. They zapped me with their emotional pitchforks, hoping I’d become a slave to pushing their products ahead in the marketplace. They went straight to people’s hearts, because human beings constantly sought pleasure. Me, like most people, feared that if I passed up an opportunity, it may well be the last one I ever got.
The same had been true for how I felt about Haley. I experienced the lure of this exciting, new feeling—the exhilarating ride of euphoria—every time I thought about her. This was very naughty of me, indeed. But, it didn’t stop me. I feared the end more than I feared the repercussions.
I wanted to stoke the fire.
I flipped through the pages, and thought of her— of sleeping in her arms, of feeling her soft skin against mine as we slept peacefully. I imagined waking to her kiss, to her soft, tender lips. I fantasized about guiding my lips along her neckline, drinking in her flavorful skin, breathing it deep into my soul. With each breath in, her spirit would fill me, and with each breath out, I’d release mine into hers. We would become like one seductive force of nature, making love to each and every part of our bodies until our souls connected as one.
Then, we’d sleep against each other and I’d be comforted by her smooth, velvety skin, while stroking her silky hair as she drifted off to sleep. And when we woke, we would watch E!, drink flavored coffees in bed, pour over fashion magazines and share the pleasantries that arose from being lazy together all day in the warmth of bed. Life would be simple, rare, and oh so beautiful.
****
That afternoon, I met Colin in the cafeteria for a late lunch. He was standing beside the awards display cabinet when I pushed through the oak double doors. Besides a girl in the corner with her nose stuffed in a book and a janitor wiping down a dirty table, we were alone. The smell of chemicals masked with lemon fragrance hung in the room. The gate to the food service area sealed tight with a padlock. “Good thing I ran back in my apartment this morning to get those pretzels I almost didn’t take,” I said.
“I can do better than that.” He took me in his arms and kissed me on my lips, then kissed my eyelids, the left first, then the right.
I eyed the clock out of the corner of my eye. “It’s only 2 o’clock. Did you know they were closed this early?”
“Yeah, they close at 1:30.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you have up your sleeve then?”
“I’m taking you on a date.”
“A date? Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Nothing was going to keep me from my dinner with Haley that night. Not even Colin. “A lunch date?”
“Why do you look so frantic?”
I wriggled out of his arms, smoothing my skirt. “I just have a lot of work piling up downstairs and I wanted to make sure I’d be back in time to get through it.”
“Sharon’s helping you now.”
I cradled my hands around my hips. “She’s not quite there yet.”
“Relax. We’re only going to be gone for two hours, at most.”
“Okay,” I said, completely aware of my slow, leery tone. “Where are we going?”
He took my hand. “Come on.”
Within ten minutes we sat across from an overly-perky, but cute, and highly recommended, travel agent. “So, as you requested Mr. Briggs, I took the liberty of drawing up the contract for your Paris trip. Great choice if you ask me.”
“Paris?” I asked.
Colin took my hand in his. He brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, lingering his gaze over me with his pewter eyes. “I’m taking you to Paris for our honeymoon, sweetheart.”
“We’re not going to Hawaii?”
“Paris is so much more romantic and it just sounds more refined when someone says it,” he said.
“Your fiancé told me how much you love art.” The travel agent chimed in.
“He did?”
“Oh, he did. He wanted to make sure that you stay within walking distance of the Louvre.”
I treated him to a genuine smile. “You told her that?”
“I want this trip to be memorable. It’s our honeymoon, after all.”
He wanted to go to Hawaii. He talked about learning to surf and staying at a five-star hotel on the beach. He had planned the itinerary within weeks of our engagement. In the mornings we would rise and take a long run on the beach, followed up by massages in the hotel spa, and then a hearty fruit breakfast. During the day we’d bathe in sunlight on the fine, white sand beach and at night dance the night away in one of the many clubs.
But he chose Paris. Not for him. For me.
I hinted to him that I always wanted to go there. I told him about my desire to see the Mona Lisa. I wanted to drink strong coffee from a real French café and indulge in French pastry. Once he started talking about Hawaii, I let it go. I hadn’t mentioned Paris in months.
“I can’t believe you chose Paris.”
The lady peeked through her plastic maroon-framed glasses. “Would you like to see the hotel he picked out for you?”
I glanced from Colin back to her. “Yes, please.”
The lady strode across the floor to a file cabinet. She stood on the tips of her toes, exposing her well-toned calf muscles, to reach the top drawer. “Even in two inch heels, I struggle. They just don’t make office equipment to accommodate short people.”
We sat on the edge of our seats watching her. “Should we help her?” he whispered.
“I’m used to this. Thanks, anyway,” she said to him. Then, apparently noticing the bewildered look on his face as she walked towards us and sat down again, she added, “Acoustics are great in this office because of the high ceilings. You should hear some of the things people whisper to each other while sitting here. They don’t realize I can hear everything. Once, I heard the entire lowdown on how one couple planned to ditch another couple they would be traveling with.”
We waited for her to continue. Colin moved forward in his seat. “Well, how did they?”
“They booked a different hotel way across the island and planned to pretend it was all an accident. The week after, the other couple barged in here demanding that I refund their friends their money for the hotel.”
“How did you handle that?” I asked.
The woman ad
justed the strap on her navy tank dress, as if beckoning me to sneak a quick glance at her lacy bra. “I handled that the way any smart businesswoman would. I cried and they fed right into my emotional state.”
I laughed. I liked this travel agent.
Colin looked to me and raised his eyebrows. “Well, then, how about you show my fiancé this great room?”
I leaned in closer to the desk to view the brochure the pretty agent placed in front of us both. “He told me he only wanted the best room for his sweetheart.”
“I am so blown away right now,” I said.
Smiling, he dropped his gaze from my face to the brochure. “This room is a luxury suite with a Jacuzzi right in the room. We’ll have an oversized deck overlooking a flower garden where we’ll be able to eat scones and drink espresso as we people-watch from our deck chairs.”
The woman opened her drawer and pulled out a file. She snapped back into business mode. “I’ve booked it as you requested—non-smoking, top floor, end unit.” She placed the contract on the side of the brochure. In the shiny pamphlet was a picture of a man and woman in white terry bathrobes, sipping champagne from flutes next to a tub filled with bubbles.
I twirled a lock of my hair as I absorbed the news. Colin spoiled me with luxuries that most people only got to see in movies. I looked to the travel agent who was watching me like an intense spectator at a tennis match. “The room sounds perfect.”
“Great. Mr. Briggs, if you could please sign the contract and select your method of payment, I can secure the trip for you.” She over-articulated her words, emphasizing even the silent consonants.
As he signed the contract, the agent spoke directly to me. “You know where I went on my honeymoon?” She pulled her chair closer into her desk so that her over-sized fake chest propped up nicely in front of me. “He took me to his aunt’s house in North Carolina. Auntie Ro cooked our meals, made our bed and tried to make it like we were staying at a fancy bed and breakfast.”
“That sounds romantic of your husband to go through all that to make it special for you.”
Then, slipping into a more casual tone she added, “Are you kidding me? Auntie Ro is famous for her ill attempts at cooking most anything. For lunch one day she prepared canned soup for us and she overcooked it so badly, the noodles actually disintegrated.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about soggy noodles,” Colin said to me.
“I wouldn’t care. I’ll be in Paris.”
“You’re accommodations will surely be better than mine were,” the agent said, taking off the glasses and revealing her tiger-like eyes. Why would she want to hide them?
“A bed and breakfast style honeymoon still sounds nice despite the noodle thing,” I said.
“We stayed in the next room over from hers, and of course they had record heat that summer and the AC died right before we got there and the sole window in our room was jammed shut. The sweltering hole was like hell. I divorced him shortly after.”
“Because of the honeymoon?” I asked.
“Because, honey, that was the highlight of our marriage. Three husbands later, I finally gave up looking for that prince charming. I see you snatched one up though. That gives me hope that there are gentlemen still out there.”
“I hope I didn’t snatch up the last one on you.” I cuddled Colin’s hand in my own.
“Mr. Briggs, if you don’t mind me saying, I think you are the last decent guy left on earth.”
Colin softened. “I’m sure one will fall right into your lap when you least expect him to.” He reassured her with a smile. “When I met Emma, I was at the top of my game and happy. The last position this sophomore college kid wanted to find himself in was committed to a girl. I had a whole field of beautiful flowers from which to enjoy, but only one grew taller and stood out among all the others. She fell into my lap, just like that. Swept me up and I’ve never been able to resist since.”
I listened to his interpretation of our meeting and I had an altogether different experience. I handpicked him as the boyfriend I’d have one day. From the first semester as a freshman I had seen him around the campus. He had a tanned, toned body, glistening dark hair, eyes the color of flint, and a go-getter personality that told me he would be perfect boyfriend material. I chased him from a distance, watching him interact, thinking how great it would be to have him by my side. One day, when I finally got the nerve I approached him about some rally for the homeless that I supported. I handed him a flyer and he was mine ever since.
“Colin, do you have any brothers?”
“I’m afraid I’m the one and only Briggs.”
“What about you, Emma? Were you looking to avoid Mr. Right when you met your prince?”
She looked to me for hope. “He just fell into my lap, too, when I wasn’t looking and he’s been there ever since.” I wished I had more of a romantic tale to match his.
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and some cute guy with lots of money will actually walk in here without a girl already on his arm. Until then, I’ll continue doing what I do best, smiling and getting you rich guys to keep signing those contracts.”
Colin chuckled as he read through the contract.
My thoughts filtered to Haley. Our meeting couldn’t have been more unexpected. I’d heard all of my life that when you least expected it, it would happen. She probably would be flying over the Midwest at that moment anxious to arrive and meet up with me in a few hours. I pictured her shiny, glowing skin and the way her teasing interjections would make me feel, and I involuntarily grinned.
Why now? The wedding was planned, the honeymoon would be booked in a few minutes, the great man was by my side, yet I selfishly still wanted more.
“Emma, you’re the luckiest one I’ve gotten in here so far.”
“What do you mean?”
“All the trouble he went through to find the perfect place just so you could be your happiest would melt any woman’s heart. I’ve never met someone so eager to please his wife-to-be. How does it feel?”
My throat swelled shut by guilt. I forced a smile and answered the deafening question. “Lucky.”
Chapter 9
When Haley walked through the door swinging her arms and legs with the confidence of a runway model, I knew I was in trouble. Since watching Colin sign his name on the trip contract that afternoon, I vowed to concentrate on the good times ahead for us. But now, seeing Haley and her adorable smile, all my focus unraveled.
As soon as she climbed into my car she asked about the picture. “Where is it?”
A warm tingle traveled through me. “Where is what?”
Her rich, dark waves shimmered in the yellowy car light, bringing out her auburn highlights. She tilted her head back slightly. “Don’t give me that. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Now let’s see it.”
I reached behind my seat and grabbed the framed picture. “Now remember, I’m just an amateur.”
She took it from me and lifted the box top. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
I stayed silent, absorbing every ounce of her joy.
She turned to me. “You drew this for me?”
I nodded, feeling more proud than I’d ever felt.
She reached down and touched the necklace that she seemingly never removed, rubbing its smooth surface in between her two fingers. “You even got my necklace exact. How did you remember all these details?”
“How could I forget?”
She drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes. “Wow.”
Did I freak her out remembering such painstaking detail? Panic ran wild suddenly. “A sketch like this is no big deal. It took me maybe thirty minutes max.”
She cradled her hand on top of mine. “Don’t make light of it. This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you so much.”
I liquefied at her touch. “You’re welcome.”
She squeezed my hand, and I didn’t fight it off. “How could you call yourself an amateur?”
; “Well, I’m not a professional.”
“We have to see to it that you are, Ms. Humble Heart.”
“I can’t help being humble.”
“Well, you can have humility and still be confident. You’ve got to know that you’re good.”
I didn’t know what to do with the accolades. So, I revved the engine. “You better buckle up. I wouldn’t want anything happening to my new art manager.”
“True. Your manager is hungry.” She clasped her seatbelt. “Let’s go hammer out some dinner for ourselves.”
Within twenty minutes we arrived at the crab restaurant. Haley dressed trendy and sexy in a lime green, silky cropped shirt that swooped low at the neckline, a pair of low-waisted blue jeans that flared slightly at the cuff, and a pair of sling back heels. And she carried the most adorable pocketbook I’d yet to see. The box-shaped leather satchel, the color of cotton candy, flirted with my appetite for style.
We walked towards the entrance and she stopped just short of the door. “I have to give you a hug.” She wrapped her arms around me. I buried my face in her soft, sweet smelling waves.
After a few moments, I pulled back, steadying myself as we made our way into the basement entrance where a gaudy sign above the door read, “Crab-eaters Enter Here”.
The open room smelled like it had witnessed one too many beer spills. The combination of crab, beer, and usual basement moisture scents dulled my other senses. “Can you see why I didn’t want to take you here on your first visit?”
“I trust your judgment,” she said, rubbing the top of my arm, filling me with warm, gooey pleasure.
The place buzzed with the chatter and the crunching of people feasting. They were smiling as they refilled their beers from pitchers to plastic cups and sucked on crab legs. We were surrounded by a room filled with hungry crab-eating savages.
I tried to hold in my laughter.
Haley played her elbow into my side. “You can’t keep that thought inside all to yourself. What’s so funny?”
I angled my focus to the crowd. “Are you sure you’re up for this? We can go someplace—”
“Someplace else? No way. This is perfect.” She latched onto my arm and pulled me forward. “Let’s go grab that table in the corner near the window.”