by Liz Fichera
“Oh, yeah.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm. “We’re tight. We party a lot.”
“What about me?” Alexandra brightened at the mere mention of her name. Her arms folded across obvious chest implants as she stood closer to Max. Just like Max, she peered back at me as though I was a newly discovered species at the Phoenix Zoo.
Max reached down and placed his hand underneath my chin. For a second, I got the strange feeling that he was going to lean down and kiss me. My body froze, waiting for that kiss, something I’d dreamt about for months. But then my head went all white noise and fuzzy because, really, this couldn’t be happening. None of it. I must have really whacked my head this time. Hard!
Instead, Max smirked and said, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“But, I’ve got my own car here…I’ll…I’ll manage, thanks,” I stammered, wide-eyed and still dizzy. I still couldn’t believe that Max Kramer was offering to drive me home, not to mention stroking my chin like I was some kind of kitten. I wanted to step back but my spine was wedged against the drinking fountain.
Max narrowed his eyes, dimpling his brow. “What are you talking about? We came together. I drove. I stayed at your place last night, remember?”
“Whaaaaat?” It came out almost like a laugh. I spun around and leaned over the fountain, rethinking my earlier desire to bathe in it. After three more long gulps, and a splash across my face, I finally raised my head and closed my eyes as freezing cold water droplets spilled from my forehead onto my cheeks.
I’m going to count to three, I said to myself. And when I open my eyes, the world will return to normal.
One…
Two…
Three.
Slowly, my eyes peeled open and I stared back at my reflection. I raised my hand instinctively to the glass.
The woman who stared back at me looked nothing like me, except for my eyes. The eyes were mine, but nothing more. Unlike me, this woman was tall and willowy, with shoulder-length blond hair pulled back into the most perfect French braid, something my hair would never do. Diamond studs sparkled from both earlobes. She had a tiny upturned nose and the kind of complexion where a pimple or mole would not dare tread. She even wore skin-tight, powder blue spandex shorts with a powder blue running bra that barely covered her stomach and chest—not to mention ample cleavage. I guessed boob job. Definitely. With my other hand, I touched her waist—or maybe it was mine. I didn’t know. But the waist was sculpted and firm, the kind you see on department store mannequins. Just like the kind I always wanted, the kind I always dreamed of.
I watched my eyes—the eyes of this strange, perfect woman—fill with fear. In one slow motion, I raised my hand to cover a scream before falling limp into Max’s arms. Standing behind Max, I saw Carlos’s reflection. He looked straight at us, his head titled sideways.
“Help me,” I mouthed to him before the spinning bright lights faded.
“A nice, hot shower will make you feel all better, Callie,” Max said, one hand on the steering wheel of his red Mustang while his other caressed my knee.
My knee?!
I had to stop correcting everyone about my name. Even Front Desk Guy at the gym had called it out brightly as Max whisked me out the door in his arms. It felt very Pretty Woman cheesy.
“Bye, Callie,” he had gushed. “See ya tomorrow!”
I’d been too numb to respond. Yesterday, I didn’t know the kid had functioning vocal cords. Today we were BFFs.
I didn’t know how—or why—but something was definitely wrong with the universe. Somehow I had taken over someone else’s body or was stuck in some kind of weird dream. My hands hadn’t stopped trembling and it had nothing to do with Max’s thumb stroking the top of my boney kneecap. In his car. Finally I figured that I might as well play along till I woke up.
But what I couldn’t figure out was whether this was one of those good dreams that you didn’t want to end, or whether it would end with me running naked down a dark alley chased by zombies hungry for my flesh.
So far, as far as nightmares went, I couldn’t complain. After all, I was dating Max Kramer. How bad was that? He’d been glued to my side all morning. But what bothered me was that I could actually feel the warmth of his skin, the hairs on his arm, his fingers. All of him. And I could feel my body—or at least the body that I had hijacked.
I rubbed my hands together and then rubbed them against the tops of my legs.
“You cold? Want some heat?” Max glanced at me sideways.
“Maybe just a little bit.” I rubbed my legs with long strokes, legs that were tan and lean. It was hard not to stare. I’d never felt smoother skin. This Callie chick must shave her legs every damn day.
“Sure, babe.”
Babe?
I paused from fidgeting and peered at Max without turning my head. It was Max Kramer, all right. But never in a million years, in any of my best daydreams, did I ever picture myself as a passenger in his sports car, much less hearing him refer to me as babe. A lot.
While I waited for myself to wake up, my eyes lowered discreetly to the rest of my body. My hands ran up the sides of my arms, slowly, tentatively, like I was checking for broken bones. Long and thin like my legs, they were the kind of delicate arms I’d always wanted, the kind that always looked perfect in tank tops and sleeveless dresses.
Then my eyes traveled down to my feet, even though I figured this body to be close to six feet, my feet looked no bigger than a perfect size six. They were made for strapless shoes and gold sandals. I fought the urge to kick off my shoes for a better look. I guessed that Callie probably wore a silver toe ring too, and why wouldn’t she? I would with feet like these!
Next, my palm cupped the sides of my face. My cheeks were as smooth as key-lime pie. Not a bump, pimple, mole or single imperfection anywhere. Did she even have pores? My cheek bones were high and regal, my lips were round and plump like gumdrops. Until this moment, I’d never felt perfection.
I glanced at Max again. I really wanted to squeeze my breasts to see if they were real. Because, well, I had my suspicions. They were just a little too pert. For now, all I could do was casually glance down at my belly button and grin. There was enough cleavage for three girls staring back at me.
Last, I pressed my hands against my stomach. Not a bulge anywhere. My abs were rock-hard and roll-free, not mushy like the cottage cheese I had grown accustomed to. Jeez, this Callie must do an hour’s worth of sit-ups every day. For the first time in my entire life I could feel my ribs and it felt…weird. It was like pressing against uncooked pasta noodles.
“Here we are,” Max said, forcing me to focus on something other than my perfect size two body. It wasn’t easy.
But then I glanced out the window and momentarily forgot my abs.
Max pulled alongside the front of a sleek, new condo building next to Tempe Town Lake, the same building that looked semi-futuristic from a mile away with all of its glass windows and steel balconies. I didn’t know anyone who lived inside. It was the type of place I’d only seen from afar. Like in magazines.
“Figures…” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that, babe?” Max put the car in park.
I stammered. “Flowers…I really like the flowers they’ve planted by the front door.” I pointed to purple petunias in six wide terracotta pots just outside the entrance.
Max didn’t respond. He just nodded, wide-eyed. As though I was just a little bit crazy.
And why wouldn’t he? Callie was probably quick and articulate and always knew something smart and witty to say. People undoubtedly hung on her every word and laughed at all her jokes, even the ones that weren’t funny. She probably never got tongue-tied or said anything stupid. I wasn’t completely sure if I liked Callie very much—even if I was Callie.
Well, this can’t go on for too much longer, I thought. At some point I would need to use the bathroom and that would be exactly when I’d wake up under my worn peach comforter in my bedroom above the
Desert Java. I always woke up when nature called.
As Max opened the passenger door, I wondered how we were going to get inside. I didn’t have a key.
“Do you think you can walk?” He carried both gym bags in one hand. Then he pulled out a set of keys from the blue bag, the same blue that matched my spandex shorts.
“Sure. I’ll be…fine.” As fine as I could be inside a very strange dream.
Max closed the car door and then reached for my elbow, just in case. “After you.”
“Yeah,” I said under my breath. “After me.” My arm tingled from his touch again and my knees remained wobbly. Both had nothing to do with my fall at the gym.
When we reached the monstrous glass lobby, a doorman materialized from nowhere and opened the door. He looked like a train conductor, complete with a gray blazer, maroon shirt and gray hat with a black rim. He talked like he knew me. “Welcome back, Miss Collins. Hope you enjoyed your workout.” His eyes even twinkled.
“Yes, thank you.” My voice stuttered. Please wake up, Grace. Wake up now! I pinched my arm but it didn’t do anything except sting. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pull off pretending to be someone else.
“Callie fell on the treadmill, Kevin,” Max said. “She’ll be okay, but she’s not herself at the moment.”
Massive understatement.
Kevin tipped his train conductor hat as we passed through the glass door. “Just hope I see you on the twelve o’clock news.”
I stopped like I’d just walked into a wall.
He flashed a grandfatherly warm smile.
The twelve o’clock news?
My mouth opened but the only thing that emerged was my rubbery tongue. “Um…umm…ummm…”
“Something wrong, Miss Collins?” Kevin asked, his smile fading to concern that I didn’t deserve.
I moved my lips but all I could manage was a whimper. Why couldn’t someone tell me why I was on the twelve o’clock news? Even worse, why couldn’t I just ask the question? The thought turned my stomach queasy. I’d much rather be home, baking in the Desert Java kitchen. I’d even forego my usual raspberry scone if that’s what it took. I’d forego pastries for a week, if necessary.
“Don’t worry, Kevin,” Max said. “Callie’s just had a bad morning. She’ll be better after a hot shower.” And with that, Max guided me to the elevator as though I was an invalid. Pretty Woman had turned into Driving Miss Daisy.
I followed obediently, mostly because I didn’t know where I was going. My mouth continued to open and close wordlessly like a puffer fish. Tiny sounds caught in the bottom of my throat—like a curious case of hiccups.
I hoped the hot shower was going to be life-changing.
I was definitely going to need it.
Max began to nibble on my earlobe and I barely noticed.
I was too busy hyperventilating inside Callie’s bedroom closet, which rivaled a women’s department store. Each clothing item was arranged according to type and color—with shorts, skorts, skirts and capris on one side, and pants, dresses, shirts, blouses, jackets and coats on the other—starting with primary colors first and working their way up to pastels and then finally every shade of black imaginable. Callie must have owned at least twenty little black dresses, some of which still had their price tags.
With Max at my heels, I peeked inside all of the white drawers in the center of the closet. They were stocked with a seemingly infinite supply of accessories and jewelry. Instinctively, I reached for my neck. It was bare.
Mom’s necklace was missing. I hoped it would return just as soon as I woke up.
Back to the closet.
Callie even had a connecting closet just for shoes. There must have been one hundred pairs and, frankly, I didn’t blame Callie. If I had feet as perfect as hers, all my money would have been spent on strappy sandals and stilettos.
“Unbelievable.” My head—my whole body—shook with amazement. I couldn’t peel myself away from the monstrous closet.
“Yes, I know.” Max pressed his warm lips against my neck, his arms wrapped around my waist.
Warm lips? My neck?
I spun around in Max’s arms.
He pulled me closer.
His eyes locked onto mine. They turned darker, hungry.
I swallowed, hard. “Um, what?” I stammered again. Then I blinked. “Oh, you thought I meant…you.” My voice trailed off. The tingle of Max’s kisses returned to my neck. I squirmed in his arms like I had a case of the tickles.
Max’s hands dropped to his sides. “Well, yeah, I kinda thought you meant me. Didn’t that feel good?” He pointed to the front of my neck as if it was an on-off switch.
“Well, yes. Of course it did. I’m…I’m just still a little dazed by everything that’s happened this morning.” I began to fidget with my hands. “You know, the fall and all.”
Max sighed.
I tried to change topics. “How about that hot shower you were talking about?”
Max’s face brightened. “Shall I join you?” He wiggled his eyebrows and reached for my waist. His hands almost completely covered it.
My whole body responded in a warm tingle but then I swallowed back any short-lived courage. “Well…um…” I couldn’t believe I was one step away from jumping into a hot shower with Max Kramer and his perfectly chiseled body. He wanted me. Bad. And I was…chickening out?
What was wrong with me?
Max’s hands reached for the sides of my shirt. His thumbs slide underneath the elastic. Slowly, he began to pull off my shirt.
My arms went rigid. “Wait.” The word caught in my throat.
Breathing heavy like me, Max frowned. “Wait? Why?”
“Be…cause?” I replied, unsure how to answer that one. I presumed hot guys like Max weren’t accustomed to no or even wait. Just my luck, I finally had Max all to myself, right here, right now, and I turned freezer-section frozen. I may have had Callie Collins’s perfect face and body, but I was still Grace Mills, the same girl who’d only had sex twice in her whole life and both times weren’t exactly memorable. The first time was during college and we were both so busy fumbling that I wasn’t sure if I even felt anything. The second time was after a blind date. I definitely felt something the second time but it happened so fast that sometimes I wondered if it ever happened at all. And the guy never called again so I couldn’t have been that good in bed.
Guys like Max would expect a woman to know what she was doing—you know, yoga positions, pole dancing moves, gyrations and maybe even the intricacies of kinky sex toys. And I was so not That Woman. I was the polar opposite of That Woman.
This wasn’t turning out as easy as I thought it would be, even if it was my own damn dream.
“Maybe later?” I winced.
Max turned away, opened and closed his mouth, and then scratched his head. Finally, he blurted, “But we always shower together after the gym.” He sounded a little helpless. It was rather endearing. “It’s part of our…ritual.”
“It is?” I coughed. “I mean…we do?”
Max and I have a ritual?
“It’s been a tough morning,” I pleaded, “and…” My voice finally just trailed off, mercifully. I sounded like an idiot.
Max took a step back, hurt, and raised his palms. “Forget it, Callie.” His cheeks turned tomato paste red as he turned for the door. “I’ll just shower at my place.”
“See you later?” I called after him.
Max didn’t reply. He didn’t even look back. But he did close the door, a little harder than necessary.
“Call me!” I said to the door.
Ouch.
“Good going, Grace. You just blew your one and only chance to sleep with Max Kramer.”
With a loud exhale, I turned back toward Callie’s ridiculously large bedroom. It was three times bigger than the Desert Java—and the furniture was a lot more expensive.
My hand trailed along the back of an espresso-colored leather chair near Callie’s bed. The leat
her was velvet smooth. It must have cost a fortune—several fortunes. Kathryn and I would have had to sell a lot of lattes and raspberry scones before we would ever come close to affording Callie’s condo.
“Well, you might as well go check out the bathroom.” I coaxed my eyes away from the furniture. “God knows I’ll probably wake up any time now.”
Despite my best attempts, I didn’t wake up in the shower. I tried scalding hot water, ice-cold water, and then pulsating needle water jets against my skin. But mostly I couldn’t stop gawking at the shower hardware.
Callie’s entire bathroom was so luxurious that it was like being in one of those crazy expensive spas that Oprah likes to talk about as one of her Favorite Places. I lived in an Oprah Favorite Place! Everything was perfect glass, marble, and candles. Lots of candles. Callie also had about twelve different types of shampoos and conditioners lining the marble shelf inside the glass-enclosed shower. I tried at least three of them before finally rinsing the conditioner from my perfectly silky blond hair.
Everything, including me, smelled like white ginger. I’d been enjoying the self-pampering so much that I didn’t hear Alexandra calling me at first.
I tilted my head, wondering if I’d heard a voice, but I didn’t answer. My head was under a showerhead the size of a corn tortilla. The water cascaded over my shoulders as deliciously as a waterfall. Callie Collins clearly didn’t realize that Phoenix was in a drought.
“Callie?” Alexandra called from the other side of the glass-enclosed shower. She tapped on the glass, and I jumped about six inches. Immediately, my hands covered my perfect breasts. Why? I have no idea. With a body like Callie’s, I’d have no problem marching naked down Central Avenue in broad daylight. In theory.
Reluctantly, I reached up one hand to shut off the water. I wasn’t used to an audience, especially when showering. I grabbed a white fluffy towel from the door and then quickly wrapped it twice around my body. I wiped away a hole in the steamy shower door with my fist and peered out.
Alexandra placed her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“I’m…showering?” I was unsure why this wasn’t obvious.