Safeword: Quinacridone

by Candace Blevins

  They pulled into the parking lot, where attendants pointed the line of cars towards the nearest parking spaces. He lowered his window and gave his name, and they were pointed another direction as the attendant reached for the radio at his belt. Within a half mile another employee pointed them towards an alley and moments later they rolled into a secluded parking area. By the time they exited the Ferrari, the last employee to direct their turn had caught up. They were given maps and a nice welcome, and shown to a gate where they entered the park from the side. Travis casually offered a tip and thanked the woman by name.

  “How’d you manage that?” Cara said, as she watched the woman walk away.

  He raised a shoulder and let it drop, looking at the various rides around them as if deciding on a plan of action. “Called ahead and paid for it. I’ve rented the entire park a few times, so I know the right people to call. Do you want to start riding first or get something to eat?”

  She had more questions about his renting the entire park but allowed him to change the subject by answering his question. “Food before roller coasters isn’t a good idea, so we should hold off on eating. Unless you’re hungry, then I can get something to drink while you grab a bite.”

  He pulled her towards one of the biggest rides as he said, “Nope, I’m good, just making sure you weren’t hungry.”

  Still stuck on his earlier comment, Cara remembered he’d been a millionaire many times over as a teenager, so of course he’d used his money to rent an entire amusement park. What teenage boy wouldn’t, if they could? Was that how the prostitutes started, too? It made sense — if you’re too shy to ask a girl out and have unlimited resources, just pay for someone. A sure thing.

  She mused how most boys were forced to learn basic social skills in order to get laid but Travis had conceivably skipped that step, negotiating million dollar business deals while his peers figured out how to treat a girl if they wanted to get lucky. Was it any wonder he did better when he took control but floundered at normal date-night conversation?

  They stepped into the line and she said, “After the parking lot I figured you’d pay someone so you don’t have to wait.”

  His brow furrowed. “I arranged it once but didn’t like the way it made me feel. Even with a park attendant walking you up and putting you in, all the negative energy from people waiting...” He shook his head, his expression solemn. “It’s not worth it. I don’t mind paying for special parking or to get in the side gate like we did, but I can’t be so in-your-face about it to break line all day on every ride. I try to come when they aren’t terribly busy so the wait isn’t long. Like today, Tuesday morning first thing.”

  Damn, back to the whole nice guy thing. He was such a contradiction.

  They rode, and laughed, and cut up for hours before he dragged her off to one of the restaurants. They took in a show after lunch to give their food time to digest and then started with the rides again. He didn’t complain when she stopped to shoot photos, and they had conversations about why she’d taken each picture, looking at the image on the camera’s screen together, head to head.

  One image reflected the happiness on people’s faces as they ate ice cream and talked, another showed the light filtering through the trees above, and yet another displayed the innocent joy of a child and the adoration of a doting father. Travis was a perfect gentleman all day, holding her hand, touching her shoulder, casually wrapping his arm around her and resting his hand on her hip, or gently pushing the hair from her face when it came loose from her ponytail.

  She’d tried to dampen her hair in the restroom, to smooth it back, but it was an uncontrollable mess. Most of the women around her had carefree windblown hair when they exited the rollercoasters, but she had wild and crazy hair, even pulled into a ponytail. Since it was hopeless she mostly ignored it, only pulling it loose and refastening when so much came free it blew into her eyes.

  They were winding down when he pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling as one would at an adorably mischievous toddler. “We’re close to the car if you’re about ready to go. I have a condo downtown, would you like to run by there and get showers so we can eat in Atlanta before we drive back? There’s a restaurant near my place I’d love to take you.”

  “I’m not dressed for a nice restaurant, though I have to admit a shower sounds tempting.” She scrunched her nose. “But I can’t wash my hair without the right kind of conditioner or it’ll really look like I stuck my finger in a light socket, and I have no makeup with me.”

  He asked her what hair products she used and with a bit of coaxing she told him. When they reached the car he put her into the passenger seat, fastened her seatbelt again, and made a quick phone call as he walked to the driver’s side, opening the door as he thanked someone and dropped himself into the driver’s seat with a happy smile.

  Twenty minutes later they pulled up to a skyscraper in downtown Atlanta. Someone opened Cara’s door and she looked at Travis, not sure what to do. He nodded for her to get out and he exited on his side, leaving the car running. A uniformed attendant drove it off as they stepped through an impressive arched entrance.

  The gentleman in the lobby spoke to Travis by name, and he answered with, “Good evening to you also, Edward. I trust you’re doing well?”

  Cara wondered at the familiarity, and as they neared a wall of elevators, the doors opened automatically. She felt way out of her league as they stepped into a well-appointed elevator, the marble and smoked glass and directional lighting making her want to paint the effect. There were no floor buttons to push on the inside, though the doors closed and they began rising. Cara eyed the wall and looked at him, and he explained. “They operate the elevators from the lobby. On the rare occurrence no one’s on duty, I have a key card programmed to call one of the cars and take me to my floor.”

  “Do you have a business in Atlanta, too? Why do you keep a second residence here?”

  “I spend a lot of my...” he hesitated, started again. “I spend a lot of leisure time here. The nightlife makes Chattanooga pale by comparison.”

  Only two doors faced them when they exited the elevator. Wow, he owned half of this floor. Impressive.

  Travis turned to her. “I had two dresses delivered in your size earlier today. I hope you like one of them enough to wear. If you don’t there’s a dress shop on this block and you can pick something you like.” A fancy shopping bag stood on the floor beside one of the doors and he stooped to retrieve it, folding the top down so she could see the contents. Shampoo and conditioner. Not her brand, but the smoothing and extra conditioning version of a more expensive brand. A much more expensive brand. He swiped his key card and when the door swung open her eyes went past the living area and landed on the spectacular view.

  “How high are we?”

  “Forty-seventh and forty-eighth floors.”

  Okay, so he owned half of two floors and doing it this way gave the primary entertainment areas a cathedral ceiling with two levels of rooms to the side. She turned in a circle, admiring the majestic interior, and walked to the window to see a magnificent panorama of the city. “Are we on top?”

  “No, the floors above have considerably larger units and I didn’t need or want so much space. This is four bedrooms, living room, den, kitchen, dining, and too many bathrooms. Let’s head upstairs, your dresses should be in one of the guest rooms and you can use the attached bathroom to get ready.” He paused, but she didn’t turn from the view, and he continued. “You’ll find a drawer with new hairbrushes still in the package, along with a hair dryer and various sizes of curling and flat irons. There should also be new toothbrushes and several brands of toothpaste; feel free to help yourself to whatever you need. Someone will arrive in about thirty minutes to do your makeup, if it’s okay with you.”

  She was still at the wall of windows, and kept her back turned to him. “You’re used to entertaining females here, I take it?”

  His voice was formal, almost businesslike. “I th
row a lot of parties and like to see to the comfort of all my guests, no matter their gender.” He took a breath, and when he spoke again his tone relaxed. “I have an entertainment organizer who comes once a month to do an inventory and restock — unless I have a big party, and then she checks before and after. She also keeps my liquor and wine stash stocked, and hires the maids.”

  Cara sighed and turned to face him. “When you looked at my pants last night, you were looking at the size? You planned all this as you invited me?”

  He suddenly didn’t look at all confident, more like a scared little boy afraid he’d just messed up. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  “A little. Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention. I want to take you to a nearby restaurant I love. There’s a dress code so I thought...” He stopped and didn’t start again, and she could see he wasn’t sure what to do next. The contradiction of this Travis versus the ultra-confident man of a few minutes before brought to mind her speculation earlier in the day, and she said, “I think I’ve figured a few things out.”

  He met her gaze and Cara was struck by the lost look in his eyes. She was sorry she’d said anything but didn’t see a way to back out, now that she’d started. “It came to me when you said you’d rented Six Flags and invited a couple hundred of your friends for a party.”

  She stepped a bit closer and gave what she hoped was a friendly smile. “You were a millionaire as a teenager. What adolescent boy wouldn’t rent an amusement park if he had unlimited resources? You were emancipated at 16 and had little parental guidance and an inexhaustible stream of money. But you were shy around girls. My guess is you figured if you couldn’t get a girlfriend the normal way you’d hire someone. Pay for sex. Am I really the first girl you haven’t had to pay to spend time with you?”

  Shoulders drooping, he walked through the large open space they were standing in, and Cara noticed the huge chandelier reflecting the light as it passed through the wall of windows behind her and danced on the walls, floor, and furniture. Travis sank to a sleek black leather sofa and put his head in his hands, oblivious to the sunbeams dancing across him.

  Cara followed, sitting on another sofa, facing him. “I’m sorry. I probably could’ve said that a nicer way.”

  He raised his eyes to meet hers and dropped his hands as he sat up, obviously uncomfortable but trying to play it off as if he weren’t. “I’ve gone out with a few women, but it didn’t work. We didn’t date long enough to call them a girlfriend but you’re not the first person I haven’t had to pay to spend time with me.” He sighed and sank a little farther into the sofa. “I’m sorry, too. Let me try again. For the most part, yes, it’s easier to pay someone. It kind of cuts out the...sometimes it seems everyone wants me for my money, so it’s simpler to be honest about the money aspects from the beginning, without subterfuge. Plus, when I hire them I can be clear on my expectations. Which sounds cold but it’s worked for me.”

  His face looked like he’d just bared his soul and was prepared to have it gravely injured. Cara’s heart broke a little for him and she decided it’d be easier to shift the conversation, rather than respond directly. Besides, there was a question she still wanted answered.

  “So why am I here?”

  His mouth turned up into not quite a smile but enough she knew he was thinking good thoughts now, instead of bad. “I saw you working on the zoomed in layer, changing it at the pixel level with such focus, and I could see what it was doing to the larger image in the other window, and something inside me shifted. You have this way of viewing the world, as if you’re seeing it through a different lens than the rest of us mere humans. Even zoomed in to the individual pixels, your perception was unique. Suddenly, if I have to use my money to impress you, I don’t mind. And then to discover you want, or possibly need, your sex rough.” He hesitated, as if deciding whether to say something, and his smile turned shy. “It seems we’re meant for each other.”

  Caught off guard by his honestly, her heart warmed, but she wasn’t sure how to respond so she changed the subject. “What did you plan to do about shoes for me?”

  He visibly relaxed and gave happy smile. A question he could easily answer. “There’s a neutral pair of shoes with gold trim, to match either dress, in seven sizes.” He rolled his eyes in an embarrassed grin. “Since I forgot to look at your shoes.”

  “You’ve done this before. A lot.”

  He nodded and she took a deep breath and let it out. She appreciated his honesty but this was foreign territory. They did better without clothes.

  “I don’t suppose you have a large bathtub in here, somewhere?”

  He nodded again and she said, “Any problem with us taking a bath together? We can sit on opposite sides and give each other foot massages. My feet are killing me.”

  * * * *

  Travis called the makeup guy as they climbed the steps, telling him to hold off. He led her into a majestic forest green and deep gold bathroom and used a keypad to draw water into the huge tub. The faucet was flat so the water fell in a wide curtain, and she wanted to comment on it but was afraid of sounding like a country bumpkin.

  His voice interrupted her thoughts. “I’m going down to get a beer. Want me to bring you anything?”

  She tore her eyes away from the bathtub, turning to him. “I’m not a big beer drinker, what else do you have?”

  “Pretty much every kind of alcohol and cola. Probably no milk or cream but we should have anything else you’d need for a mixed drink.”

  “Can I have a margarita?”

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips and heading downstairs.

  Cara set the shampoo and conditioner on the tub’s ledge before searching for a guest bedroom with clothes and shoes. The dresses were exquisite, one a pale pink and the other a pearl white. Both were classy and beautiful, and would be form fitting without making her look like a slut. They probably cost a fortune.

  Opening the shoebox, she was dismayed to see high heels — she’d break an ankle if she even attempted walking in them. She spotted a pale green mid-thigh length robe on a hook and grabbed it before returning to the other bathroom, where Travis was looking through a cabinet, his back to her.

  “The dresses are gorgeous but my feet aren’t going near those shoes.”

  He turned his head, startled, as if he hadn’t heard her return. “Why not?”

  She smirked. “Tell you what, you put the biggest size on and walk up and down the steps for ten minutes without twisting an ankle, and I’ll consider it.”

  He grinned and said, “Ummm, no thanks,” before reaching for the giant margarita on the counter and handing it to her. “I could get more shoes delivered but it sounds like you’d be happiest if I order something to eat here before driving you home.”

  She shook her head. “I can put my clothes back on and we can stop at a Cracker Barrel or Applebee’s. We don’t have to eat somewhere with a dress code, you know.”

  “But,” he said, moving closer and caressing her cheek. “I want to treat you to something special.”

  Her insides fluttered at the way his eyes focused on her, and when she didn’t respond he said, “Let me order us something good. I can have it here in forty-five minutes or an hour, plenty of time for us to do foot massages and get clean. I’ll have a buyer bring something casual for you to wear home so you don’t have to put your sweaty clothes back on. Just, please let me take care of you while you’re with me.”

  She turned away and stripped as quickly as possible, stepping into the tub and sinking into the water before saying, “Okay. I’ll try not to be too difficult.”

  Travis pulled a bottle of massage oil from the cabinet before shucking his clothes and followed her into the tub. He brought his phone and made the call to order their food, asking for the daily special and checking with her before ordering on her behalf, and then called downstairs to let Edward know food was expected.

  When he click
ed off he turned the jets on and watched quietly as she shampooed and rinsed her hair, then put conditioner on and piled it up, leaving it to sit. He didn’t make her feel self-conscious and she noted again how much better they did with each other when naked.

  He caught her off guard when he reached for her foot, propping it on his leg and dribbling oil over it. His hands felt like heaven as strong, agile fingers probed spots she hadn’t known needed attention. She oiled one of his feet, massaging in her own way, and became lost in the process of learning what he seemed to like and not like, the feel of the muscles in his feet and how they reacted as she manipulated them.

  They were both finishing the second foot when Cara heard a soft chime and looked up. Travis did so at the same time and their gazes collided, leaving them speechless for the few moments it took resurface.

  He smiled. “It’s okay, Edward will walk the delivery person in and see everything’s set up, and will ding when they leave. It’ll take them five or ten minutes, so we have time to finish.”

  Cara’s legs felt like jelly all the way to her thighs even though he’d only massaged her feet and ankles. She gently placed his foot back on the tub’s bottom before rinsing the conditioner from her hair with the handheld sprayer.

  * * * *

  When they sat down to eat, Cara was wearing the robe with her towel-dried hair clipped neatly away from her face; and Travis wore loose navy silk pajama pants. The food was artfully displayed on beautiful dishes. It felt incredibly decadent.

  She held up an over-sized fork, simultaneously graceful and masculine. “Did you buy any of this? I mean, I know your money paid for it but did you pick it out or did others choose it for you?”

  “Here? People bought it for me. My home in Chattanooga is a mixture of my tastes and professional advisers keeping me from looking like an idiot. I had the designers walk through to get an idea of my style and then they decided how to furnish the condo, though I approved via pictures and layouts before they did anything.” He shrugged. “I like it well enough but it’s their doing, not mine. Are you going to get mad at me again if I ask more personal questions?”