by Kylie Parker
“It must be your eyes… Man, how stupid of me.” Dean literally jumped from his seat and quickly got rid of his leather jacket. He then went over to Isabelle and covered her back with it.
“Dean, what are you doing there? What do you mean ‘my eyes?’” She protested, but he would not take no for an answer.
“You got penetrating eyes, Isabelle. I got distracted. Totally forgot you might be cold,” he murmured, returning to his seat. Dean only had a white tee on. His flattery brought Isabelle’s smile back to her face. Much more comfortable now, she went on:
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for those people. It was amazing. And to think that you’re just a…” It was Isabelle’s turn to flatter him.
“What? A rich, spoiled prick?” he interrupted her. She liked his wit, but she did not appreciate being interrupted.
“No. I was gonna say a ‘civilian.’ Please, don’t do that again.” Her polite tone took him by surprise, but Dean felt he was wrongfully accused. Not by Isabelle, but by everyone unfortunate enough not to bear his name.
“I won’t. I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about me or read anything online, but I’m really not what people think I am. Ok, I’m rich. I got more money than I can spend. I like fast cars, like the Aventador you saw on the driveway. But trust me, those people don’t know shit about me…” Isabelle did not know if he was honest, but his firm, commanding tone sounded like music to her ears. There was something different about him. He sounded a lot more down-to-earth than she expected.
“For the record, I don’t like judging people. Especially complete strangers. It’s not fair,” Isabelle lowered her tone.
“I’m glad you see it that way. How long are you here for, anyway?” Dean leaned forward and put his right elbow on the table while holding his guitar with his left hand.
“We’ll spend thirteen more days here. Why are you asking?” Isabelle folded her arms across her chest.
“I just got an idea. Look, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” Dean arose to his impressive 6’4” stature and left Isabelle alone. He did not allow her to say anything, but she did not mind. Their encounter was a very pleasant surprise.
Dean returned to the porch, five minutes later. He would not admit it, but he was a little cold and had to put on a blue sweater. To Isabelle’s surprise, he had a different guitar in his hands: A beautiful, natural, acoustic Taylor guitar. He did not have to plug that one in.
“Here she is. I love this guitar…” Dean muttered under his breath before he took it in his hands.
“Dean, you shouldn’t have. We’ve ordered takeout; I should be going…” At that point, Isabelle tried to rise from her seat. However, she sensed his large hand on her wrist.
“Stay…” As she slowly turned her head to the left and faced him, Isabelle soon understood that he was not really ordering her. There was sadness in his eyes. His tone was not as firm as it was earlier. He sounded lonely…
“How can I say no to that…? Oh, my God, look at those puppy eyes…
Isabelle did not speak. She sat back down. Within seconds, she heard a familiar tune: Bon Jovi’s famous ballad “Thank You for Loving Me.” It was released back in 2000 when she was still ten years old, but it was such a hit that people listened to it up to this day. Isabelle remembered the multiple times she had heard that song. In parties, weddings, or other occasions, that ballad was very popular, despite its age.
She remained silent as Dean sang. Ok, he did not sound like Jon Bon Jovi himself, his voice was a bit too deep, but he was pretty good for an amateur. She saw the bulging veins on his hands and witnessed the tension on his face. Dean had a sensitive side that she had not found in any of the men she had dated so far. Upon the final strum on the strings of his Taylor, she burst into applause. Then, she heard the phone ringing in her right pocket.
“That was great. Now, I really gotta go. Sorry…” She excused herself and tried to get up. Dean beat her up to it, though. With his guitar still in his left hand, he jumped up and made three steps to the right, blocking her path.
“You can go… But, I just performed live for you. Don’t you think I deserve some kind of… payment?” He tilted his head to the right and smiled at her.
“Payment? Like what?” Isabelle could not imagine what he had in mind.
“One…” he whispered. With their faces barely four inches away from each other, Isabelle got even more curious.
“One? What, one dollar, one thousand…? What?”
“Kiss…” Dean closed his eyes. He then angled his lips, as he slowly leaned forward towards Isabelle. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. Their lips locked in a long, tender kiss…
8
Swept away by the kiss, Isabelle ran back to Kate’s house. Dean’s approach was sweet and original, nothing like she had ever experienced before. There were no cheesy lines or clichés. She had no time to think if she should tell her friends about it. Kate’s words came back in mind; she was very clear: Isabelle should avoid him. In this stunning turn of events, the young flight attendant was baffled. What was so wrong about him? What did Kate know that would drive people away from Dean?
In the few seconds it took her to reach the front door to the house, Isabelle had made a quick decision: She would only tell Monica. Even if Kate asked, she would not disclose anything to her. It would be a good way to force her friend to speak about everything she knew about Dean.
“Hey… Looks like you found a way to finally shut him up,” Monica opened the door and commented. Strangely, Isabelle was breathing heavily and had a smug smile on her face.
“Izzy… Come here. Step into the light, will ya?” Monica was intrigued. Isabelle’s body language was telling her something. The smile and the difficulty in breathing were clear signs, but she also noticed something else. She grabbed Isabelle by the wrist and pulled her closer, two feet inside the house where she would have more light. Isabelle looked down, hiding her face from Monica.
“Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Monica got angry; she raised her tone and glared at Isabelle. But, she would not indulge her friend. Monica had to place her right index finger on her chin and push it up. Isabelle raised her eyes. She could not stop smiling. Pushing the several puffs of hair out of her face, the tall brunette found what she was looking for.
“What the hell…?” she whispered, leaning towards her. Isabelle was blushing; her fair complexion could not hide her excitement. Monica then placed her right palm on Isabelle’s chest. Her heart was still racing.
“Ok, we need to talk,” Monica stated. Just when Isabelle was about to verbalize, though, they heard Kate’s voice from the kitchen:
“What’s taking you guys so long? Come on, the pizza’s getting cold…”
Attempting to pass Monica by, Isabelle felt her hands on her shoulders.
“I don’t know what happened to you out there, but you’d better excuse yourself for a minute. Catch your breath and wash that face of yours.” At first, Isabelle believed that Monica was overreacting. On second thought, though, she could be right. A confrontation with Kate was something they could both do without.
“She can be very persuasive when she wants…” Monica commented to Isabelle, as she made her way towards the living room. Walking behind her, Isabelle pointed at the bathroom, smiling down at Kate who had a slice of pizza in her left hand.
“I’ll bet. The noise is gone…” she commented.
Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Isabelle took a few deep breaths and splashed some water on her face. Her earlier reluctance had caused suspicion. Deep down, she knew she would have to tell Monica about what had transpired, but one thought haunted her mind: Kate’s reaction upon discovering her new neighbor’s identity. She was torn. A part of her was desperate to be honest with her friends. All three of them believed that honesty was the foundation of their long friendship. At that time, though, Isabelle would not tell Kate. She had not followed her advice, and she would pr
obably be mad at her.
Upon listening to her footsteps on the corridor, Kate swallowed a mouthful of pizza and turned her face to the left, waiting for her to emerge.
“Bra-vo,” she applauded.
“Let me guess. My neighbor’s 45 years old and his teenage son is trying to draw everyone’s attention?” Kate had to go with the odds.
“Nope…” Looking much calmer than before, Isabelle sat on Monica’s left across from Kate.
“Hmmm…” With her legs crossed, Kate put her left elbow on her left knee and leaned forward. Then, she began to tap her forehead with her index finger.
“Huh! Don’t tell me it’s a 50-year old with a taste for women half his age!” Kate was scared by that thought.
“Nah...” Isabelle smirked.
“He’s young, rich, handsome, polite, really tall and… quite a charmer, if you ask me.” Isabelle last statement added to Kate’s curiosity. But, by that time, Monica was getting curious as well.
“I need a description, darling,” she hummed.
“Later. I’m hungry…” Isabelle reached out and took a slice of pizza out of the pizza box.
“What did you tell him? And what took you so long?” Kate still had questions.
“I told him we’re having a girls’ night in, but he wouldn’t let me leave like that. He wanted to play something for me; I’m telling ya, he’s pretty good. But, he’s quite greedy, too.” Isabelle’s smug smile reappeared.
“Greedy? What, he wanted money?” Monica’s voice got high-pitched.
“Um… no. He wanted a kiss.” Isabelle’s smile grew even broader.
“Huh! You didn’t!” Monica got upset.
“Guilty as charged…” Isabelle raised her hands in the air and at shoulder height with the half-eaten slice of pizza still in her right hand. Monica pushed her to the left with her right hand while Kate was surprisingly cool about it.
“How was it?” she asked, in a low tone.
“Oh…” Isabelle raised her eyes and looked at the ceiling. She shut them, reminiscing about the kiss.
“It was slow, sweet, tender… God, my knees were shaking. He’s got, like, really full lips. My favorite… And don’t get me started on his scent. It was really masculine. God, what a man…” Watching Isabelle’s gesturing (with both hands in the air and clenching her fists, while describing the kiss), Kate grabbed a pillow from her right and threw it at her.
“Shut up! I’m sooooooo jealous!” she exclaimed.
Isabelle opened her eyes and lowered them. Glaring at Kate, she accused her:
“Yeah, said the little horndog who’s been fucking her gardener for two days straight. How many times did you guys do it? Five? Eight? Ten?” She was clearly annoyed.
“Fourteen…” Kate had no choice but to avert her gaze from Isabelle and look down at the pizza box on the table. Then, Isabelle grabbed the pillow Kate had thrown her seconds earlier and threw it back at her. She even heard Monica’s laughter as she did.
“This must be her personal record or something…” Monica collapsed onto Isabelle’s shoulder, holding her stomach.
“You’ve had sex fourteen times in two days, but I kissed a guy and you’re jealous? Can you believe the nerve on that chick?” Isabelle addressed Monica, expecting her approval. But her friend could not utter a word. The only thing she could do at that time was a nod while laughing very hard.
“Well, in my defense, there was nothing romantic about it. And, I doubt there will ever be. Sean’s a good guy, really. But, I don’t see a future in this.” Kate’s sad tone did not discourage either of them.
“Sure there’s a future in this, Kate. He’s got a lot of stamina, though. I’ll give him that.” Isabelle kept teasing her friend.
“Wait a minute. You never told us his name. Who is he?” Kate looked right into Isabelle’s eyes. However, the smart flight attendant did not freeze, even though she dreaded that moment.
“I’m gonna let you properly introduce yourself to him, Katie. You’ll see what I’m talking about.” At that moment, Isabelle looked at Monica to her left.
“You’ll both see what I’m talking about.”
9
“God, I wanna hear his voice again. Damn it, Isabelle. You should have given him your number…”
After a fun night with her two friends, at 00:15, Isabelle was lying in bed under a fuchsia blanket. She had looked out her window earlier, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dean. Although the window overlooked his porch twenty yards to the left, he was not there anymore. Isabelle opened the top drawer of her nightstand and pulled out his business card.
“Let’s see how your voice sounds over the phone, Mr. Marshall.
Isabelle began to dial Dean’s number, sensing her pulse rising.
“Hello?”
“Dean? It’s Isabelle…”
“Oh. Hey…” he sounded relieved.
“Hope I’m not bothering you. You weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“No, I’m just glad it’s you. What’s up?”
Isabelle remained silent.
“It’s alright. I like your voice. It’s pretty sweet. Listen; you ran off so fast that I didn’t get a chance to invite you to my spa. It’s called Feminine; it’s less than two miles north. You can bring your friends. All services are on the house. Say, 10:30am?”
“I’ll tell them in the morning. I don’t think it will take me long to convince ‘em. Thanks a lot, that’s very sweet of you.”
“Don’t mention it. Goodnight…”
“Goodnight.”
Isabelle was ecstatic. She would see Dean again in a few hours and would probably discover why Kate did not like him, should they run into each other. Nevertheless, she could not stop speculating on the reasons why her friend advised her to stay away from him. After a day full of surprises, Isabelle preferred to sleep on a happy thought. Soon afterward, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, eagerly anticipating the moment she would meet with Dean again.
The next morning, as expected, both Monica and Kate loved the idea of a free spa. They thanked Isabelle for it and at 10:05am, they all met in the kitchen, ready to go. Kate wore black leggings and a tight red t-shirt along with her red Converse All-Stars. Monica had on a gray sweatshirt, dark blue yoga bottoms and wore white trainers, whereas Isabelle preferred to put on a pink hoodie, purple lounge pants, and red sneakers. The three friends would need to take a few things to the spa such as bathrobes, flip flops, and a change of clothes, so they all had to carry backpacks. Isabelle’s was blue, Monica’s was black, and Kate’s was yellow.
Upon opening the door, Kate saw a large flower basket on her doorstep. It contained more than 20 lilies. She looked around before she sat on her knees and tried to pick it up. It could hardly fit in her embrace. Soon enough, she discovered the recipient. A small envelope was in the middle with Isabelle’s name on it.
“Hey, Izzy! This one’s for you…” Kate turned to her right and murmured.
“Dunno what you did to the guy last night, but you sure as hell made a great impression on him.” Monica was happy for Isabelle.
“You’re kidding me…” Isabelle was at a loss for words. But then she noticed the same envelope Kate had seen and took it in her right hand. It read:
“Last night was fun.
Hope you can make it today.
I look forward to seeing you
D.M.
“Yep. Looks like your neighbor is a big fan of our Izzy, Kate.” Monica could not resist the temptation of reading the letter with Isabelle.
“Girl, take that basket inside and lock the door behind you. We’ll be waiting in the car. Come on, Mon.” Kate handed the keys to her house to Isabelle.
Within a few minutes, the three friends were in Kate’s black, luxurious Mercedes C-Class. Dean’s romantic gesture had added to Isabelle’s excitement.
“Normally I’m not impressed so easily. But, he seems perfect so far. He’s a hero, he’s handsome, rich, a great kisser, and thoughtful enough to send
me flowers. And to think we haven’t been on a date yet… I wonder what he would do then.
Lost in her thoughts, Isabelle stared into a void in the passenger’s seat. The ten minutes it took them to arrive to Feminine seemed to fly by—it was a clear, sunny day after all. However, when they reached the small hill it was located on, the three women were amazed by the sheer beauty of it. It was huge and on the edge of an oak tree forest. The outer walls were made of various colors of stone: purple, green, orange and blue. In the middle of the half-acre lawn there was a pathway lined with small, white stones. On each side of the lawn there was a fountain with water pouring out of the mouths of two lions which sat across from one another. It also featured a massive, 45ft-long glass façade. Right above that, there was a sign with the name of the spa, in red letters:
“Feminine
“We should totally find your big fan and thank him, Isabelle.” Staring at the fountain on the left side of the lawn, Monica voiced her opinion.
“Yeah. I just hope he doesn’t ask me to kiss him…” Kate was quick to respond.
“Nope. Those lips of his are mine now, my ladies.” Between her two friends, Isabelle bragged about herself. Less than ten yards away from the entrance, a small, elderly man in a black tuxedo welcomed them. He spoke with a British accent.
“Good morning, ladies. My name is George Harrison. Which one of you is Ms. Miles?”
“That would be me,” Isabelle chirped, raising her right at chest height. A second after she spoke a woman emerged. She was in her early thirties and was dressed in purple spandex. She also had ginger, shoulder-length hair.
“Hi, girls. I’m Gina. I’ve been assigned to you.” She extended her right hand for a polite handshake. Then, the elderly man spoke again:
Ms. Miles, I have been ordered to escort you to our VIP area in the basement. Please, follow me.” He smiled at Isabelle and showed her the way inside. Monica and Kate followed Gina after Isabelle and the man entered the lobby. It was very luxurious. It featured marble floors and a 30-ft tall ceiling painted light pink on the left and fuchsia on the right. Three massive chandeliers were beautifully lighting it up. To the left, there was a somewhat short, but very long, scarlet, u-shaped counter. A thin brunette in her mid-thirties was behind it, talking on the phone, wearing a yellow pantsuit. Down the hall, there were two elevators. Isabelle and George entered the one on the left while Monica and Kate followed Gina into the second.