Foreign Exchange

by Rachel Cade

  “True,” Tianna conceded.

  “Besides,” Lorna added, “anyone with any sense wouldn’t be looking for Mr. Right in a club.”

  And, her conscience scolded, anyone with good sense wouldn’t let some unfamiliar man stick his fingers up her snatch in public. No matter how long and tapered and acutely skilled they were.

  Tianna raised a brow. “So, he’s Mr. Right?

  “No!” Lorna’s response was instinctual. Her real answer was long-winded and tantamount to ‘I don’t know’.

  “Jeez, don’t bite my head off. So what’s he look like?”

  Another question she didn’t know how to answer. How could she describe him without gushing? You really wanna know, Tianna? He looks like a God—a Greek God, and I want to get down on my knees and worship him.

  This would either garner an eye roll or worse, a weird look. Not to mention she would have to divulge that said ghost was white. Not that Tianna had ever expressed appropriate adoration for the male sex and its variety of shades and nationalities, but Lorna had never known her friend to actually date someone outside of her race. And she wondered how she would react to find out that her own best friend, mousy mostly wisecracking and perpetually lonely Lorna was. And not just any white guy—a hot, rich, funny, Abercrombie, British—white guy.

  Oh yeah, and there was that pesky fact. She and Simon weren’t actually dating.

  “Hello?” Tianna waved her hand in front of Lorna’s face. “I just had like a ten minute conversation with you? Where were you? Thinking about Mr. Wonderful?”

  “Shut up.” Lorna instantly wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  Tianna laughed. “Lorna’s got a crush. Crush, crush, crushy.”

  “Oh God, Tianna, just shut up.”

  “Crushy.”

  Was a song coming too? Lorna slapped her own face when her friend began to sing off key.

  ****

  Since it was getting late, Tianna and Lorna had parted ways. Macy’s wasn’t particularly crowded today and most people were getting ready to leave. The store was closing early for renovations. That was what she’d read on the sign as she’d walked in the store.

  Lorna hadn’t purchased a thing and was staring at the various cosmetic displays as she headed out of the store. She looked through her purse for her bus change and headed for the main exit.

  Just as she made her way out of the door, the alarm sounded, making a loud whirring sound, and Lorna felt her heart fall into the pit of her stomach. She whirled around knowing she must have looked totally guilty in her paranoia, as a retail employee and security guard started walking toward her.

  She swallowed and licked her overwhelmingly dry lips. “Th--there must be some kind of mistake.”

  Neither of them smiled or tried to be polite.

  Lorna stepped back into the store as the security guard said, “Can you step back through ma’am. It might just be a malfunction.”

  Of course it was a malfunction, she thought frantically, she hadn’t stolen anything out of this store, and she wasn’t a thief. She had a purse of credit cards; if she wanted anything in here she would buy it.

  Lorna stepped back through and the alarm sounded again. She felt her heart lurch, and started to sweat under her coat. Could something have fallen in her pocket without her knowledge? Shit, if she looked in her pockets to check she would surely look guilty.

  Even if she found something, how would she explain it? They were going to pull out the cuffs any minute. She tried to hide her panting and remained cool as she stepped through a third time, and like clockwork the alarm sounded.

  Her eyes darted around searching for accusing eyes from other customers. Thankfully no one was around at the moment to watch the fray. Here she was, a black girl, shoplifting. Wait a second—wait! She hadn’t taken anything.

  “There must be some kind of mistake.” Her voice was shaking as she felt the tall security guard take her arm.

  “Can you come with me please, ma’am?”

  Her first instinct was to run. Just pull away and run out of the store. But where was she going to go? Just running through New York in the middle of the night? She’d get hit by two cars in a row, one of which would be the squad car sent to catch her.

  She licked her lips again as she was led to a back room. Her eyes felt as if they were detached, like she was just watching this from someone else’s eyes; Law and Order, not her own life.

  She was placed in small room where she expected to be strip-searched. Lorna wanted to cry, but she didn’t. She was going to keep a clear head. When these people didn’t find anything, she was going to tell them she was getting a lawyer, and she was going to own Macy’s when she was done.

  She sat down on a small uncomfortable chair in front of a dented metal table, that she was sure had seen its fair share of guilty thieves butts. But she was not one of them.

  “Listen,” she said to the stern-looking retail girl. “I shop here all the time. I know you. You’re usually at the Lancôme display trying to spray people with stuff. I would never take anything from this store.”

  “Do you know how long you can go to jail for shoplifting?” the security guard asked. “You know Macy’s will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”

  Lorna’s eyes widened. “I didn’t steal anything!”

  He didn’t even care. He wasn’t listening. “I’m going to get a female guard.”

  They were going to strip-search her! Oh God! Why hadn’t she left earlier with Tianna? She needed to call her mom. Oh, how was she going to call her mother and tell her this? Lorna leaned over in the chair and placed her face in her hands. She tried to take deep controlling breathes. Not to mention that she was tired of looking at the petite blond salesgirl who was leaning against the wall wearing a sullen expression like she was pissed she couldn’t go home. She should have just run when she had the chance. The security guard didn’t look like he would have chased her. He probably wouldn’t have called it in—

  “Gotcha!”

  Lorna’s hands froze over her face as she heard that familiar British voice fill her ears.

  She pulled her hands down and slowly turned in her chair. Simon was leaning over her, smiling. She turned to look at the salesgirl and saw the blond giggling behind her hand.

  Lorna stiffened and looked from the girl to Simon. She gasped loud and slowly, heaving breath into her chest like she didn’t expect to take another one.

  “You—” she pointed at Simon. “You set this up? This was a trick?”

  Lorna slapped him hard against the shoulder, and he hollered.

  “Lorna, damn!”

  She jumped up from the chair. She was angry, but not very. She was glad to see him, and she loved and hated that feeling simultaneously. “You jerk! Do you know how long I stood out there and waited for you in the cold!”

  “You could have come inside.”

  “No, I couldn’t. I was scared that the Martha Stewart-looking chick would maul me!”

  Simon chuckled, and the smile made him look breathtaking.

  Lorna looked around and realized the salesgirl had left. “I can’t believe you did that to me.” She folded her arms over her chest. “How did you do this?”

  He wouldn’t answer her question. “You gave me no choice. You make me do these things.”

  “I make you—how?”

  “I wanted to watch you.”

  She swallowed, hating how the softness of his voice made her skin tingle. “Watch me?”

  “Yes. When you weren’t looking. I asked you where you would be and you wouldn’t tell me.”

  She only stared at him, and he looked away, almost shyly. “I figured if I didn’t show, you would have to go somewhere.”

  “Simon, are you insane?”

  He leaned against the wall out of her line of vision. She didn’t let her eyes follow him.

  “You don’t smile much when you’re out, do you? You look so brooding. But you did finally smile when you were with your
friend. And what a lovely smile it was, truly genuine. You would be surprised how many fake smiles I come across in a day.” He paused. “She must be a good friend; she makes you laugh quite often.”

  Lorna’s breath grew shallow with the thought that she had been out and about for the majority of the afternoon with Simon watching her, and she didn’t even know it. Was it right to be aroused by something like that? Anyhow she was.

  “And what does letting me think I was going to jail for shoplifting have to do with any of this?”

  He pushed away from the wall. “Oh, that was just fun. Besides,” he smiled at her incredulous expression. “I needed to distract you.”

  “Distract me? From what?”

  His blond head jutted toward the door. “Come on and see.”

  ****

  To her dismay, he forced her to let him cover her eyes with his hands. She walked blind down the hallway she assumed the guard had led her through. “It’s hard to walk behind you like this and not let my wiener touch you.”

  She giggled. “Wiener? Just take your hands off my eyes and let me walk.”

  “No, little Lorna. I will take my hands off when I am good and ready, now keep walking.”

  “Where are we—?”

  “Shh!”

  She continued moving until he said, “You have a step coming up.”

  “What?” She tried to turn her head as she questioned him.

  “Step or we’re going to fall over!”

  She lifted her foot on the step and gasped as she realized they were moving. “We’re on an escalator?”

  “One of those modern inventions, yes.” He kept his hands firmly over her eyes and leaned over so that his chin rested on top of her head. The cologne he wore was infectious. She had been so pissed earlier she didn’t have time to reflect on how he looked. Long blond hair parted down the middle, he was wearing a pink button-down shirt, with fitted gray slacks, and no jacket. Pink, if he wasn’t so damn hot she might have hated it. But how could she be anything but envious of anything wrapped so close to his skin.

  “Okay, we are almost at the end—and step.”

  They moved in quiet unison until he said, “Okay, you ready?”

  “Yes!” She all but shouted, a pent up breath leaving her chest.

  “Are you sure? I don’t know, I kind of like you like this—”

  “Simon—”

  He pulled his hand away from her eyes and she opened them. A low breath hissed from her mouth. They stood in front a Moroccan home display. In the center of a bevy of satin, purple, gold, and maroon pillows was a low candlelit table, beside it a cooling bottle of champagne. The light overhead cast a soft glow over the floor.

  “What is this?” she whispered. “Where is everyone?”

  “Home or somewhere I presume. Didn’t you see the sign? They closed early tonight.”

  Lorna felt her throat grow tight. “H--how did you do this?”

  “You insult me.” He slowly led her toward the table. “You expect the magician to give away all his secrets.”

  “Well excuse me, Harry Potter.”

  “Ha, ha.” He sat her down across from him.

  Lorna looked around in awe. “This is just so amazing. I have never seen this before.”

  “I know. They just put it up.”

  She stared at him, and a slow grin spread over his mouth. She covered her mouth with her hands and leaned forward. Inside she had to stifle her scream. She just wanted to jump up and scream and kick and whatever! She could not believe this was happening to her!

  “What?” he asked quietly.

  She pulled her hand from her mouth and took a quick breath. “Nothing.”

  “You like it?”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes I like it! I love it. You knew I would. No one has ever—” She cut off her own words as she shook her head again.

  “No one has ever what?” he coaxed gently.

  She looked up at him, his eyes looked like a mixed pool of sky and grass, and she felt her heart flip over in her chest. How corny and crazy, and yet wonderful.

  “No one has ever done—” Anything like this, worthwhile, or tried to impress me. “Anything like this for me.”

  “There is a first time for everything isn’t there?”

  For a time she didn’t say anything, she just watched him watch her until finally she let her eyes lower to the table. “I guess so.”

  He cleared his throat before leaning forward. “When plotting this I realized I didn’t know what you liked. So I got Italian,” he lifted one silver top to reveal piping hot lasagna, “Chinese,” he lifted another tray to reveal an authentic Pu-Pu platter complete with wooden spinning tray. “And American.” The last tray revealed two large steaks cooked to perfection.

  Lorna laughed, sending her head back as she leaned against the soft cushions under her.

  “You realize I have thought of everything, so you’ve got no choice but to give into my magic.”

  “Yes,” she answered softly, “a grand magician you are.” She tipped her head forward. “Should I bow?”

  “Later,” he tapped his chin, “What was it that some smart American once said? Ah yes,” he winked, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, trying to stifle her grin as she stared across at him.

  “If I told you, what kind of a surprise would that be?”

  “Even more surprises?” Her eyebrows rose. “What could you possibly have in mind?”

  “Well, my dear, I suppose you will just have to endure the evening and find out.”

  Chapter Six

  In the middle of dinner Lorna let her fork hit the side of the square plate. She doubted she could eat another bite, but it was all so delicious. She had a little bit of everything and couldn’t recall eating so well. To her dismay, Simon downed more than her, and he didn’t have an ounce of fat anywhere. For the love of Pete, where did it all go?

  “So are you crazy or what?” She leaned forward as she peered at him.

  He had been chewing, and coughed before swallowing. “Excuse me?”

  “You,” she repeated. “You know, crazy, not wrapped to tight. You’re elevator doesn’t go to the top floor. Do you need any more—?”

  He shook his head. “No, those examples suffice. Of course, now I am wondering why you asked me a question like that.”

  Part of Lorna screamed in her head that she should just shut up and enjoy the evening. But her more cynical grounded self was still suspicious. Fear loomed through her and underlay everything she felt about him. She just could not help it. At that point she just started talking. “I just…don’t really get what someone like you is doing with someone like me. You just…we don’t really fit.”

  He slowly wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on the table. She was looking away from him although aware that his eyes were intensely on her. “What are you talking about?”

  Could she bring herself to say it? That she didn’t understand why someone so unbelievably attractive was going out of his way to impress her—to want her.

  “I know you’re not that stupid.” She shook her head still not looking at him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Would you be referring to the fact that you’re black or full figured?”

  Lorna’s eyes widened. “Both!”

  She had almost shouted at him. And instantly felt so stupid. But she was scared out of her mind. She liked Simon. She more than liked him, and nothing like that had happened for her in a very long time. And everything he was doing, just seemed too good to be true.

  Maybe subconsciously she wanted to end things before he did. Wasn’t that the way it was going to go? To end badly; isn’t that the way things always went?

  He remained quiet for a while and so did she.

  “Why are you so scared?” he asked finally.

  She squirmed in her seat. When she looked up at him, she felt her heart sink in her chest. And her
heart began to hurt. He looked so damn good, and so perfect, it was scary.

  What was she going to do when he was gone? And her life just went back to the way it used to be. Dull, boring, and lifeless, compared to the way it was now being with him.

  “You don’t know anything about me,” he spoke suddenly, and she lurched out of her dire thoughts.

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “Then ask me something.” He rested back on his hands getting comfortable. “I promise to tell the truth.”

  She licked her lip and sucked in a long quiet breath. An image of herself climbing over the table and plastering her lips to his, broadcast itself in her head. Her pleasure spots throbbed with the idea and her pulse quickened.

  “Make it good.” His expression was flat except for his eyes. They had a special twinkle in them that suggested he knew the direction of her thoughts. Had her eyes given them away?

  She cleared her throat. “Okay. How old are you?”

  “Let’s see. I turned thirty-two, July twenty-fifth.”

  “Get out! Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “You look younger.”

  “Botox.”

  “So you’re a Leo then, I should have known.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re into all that Astrology stuff. Do you have a psychic too?”

  She rolled her eyes. “How many girlfriends have you had?”

  “Ten. Counting since I was eleven.”

  Her mouth folded down. She had a warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach, more from being with him than the small amount of champagne she had consumed. No one would ever believe this if she dared repeat it. “Serious girlfriends.”

  “Wouldn’t a more logical question be ‘how many women have I slept with’?” he quirked a brow. “That’s what you really want to know after all.”

  It was. “Fine, smart-ass. How many women have you slept with?”

  He grimaced slightly, and then sat up. “I don’t know. That’s just so personal, Lorna.”

  He was already smirking when she yelled. “You bastard. You told me to ask you!”

  “And you do everything I say?” he questioned. “If so then—”