Daydreams

by Marcia Lynn McClure

“You’re not nervous, are you?” he asked.

  “Yeah!” she admitted. “You know all these people. I don’t know any of them.”

  “It’s no big deal,” he told her. “It’s just dinner and a dance. Aren’t you the one who once told me it was just like a bad prom?”

  Sayler smiled and then giggled, delighted he remembered something she’d said so long ago.

  “Yes. Yes, I did tell you that,” she said. “But that was different.”

  “Not really,” he said, nodding at the limo driver. The car pulled away from the curb, and Sayler’s stomach exploded with butterflies as Bo covered one of her hands with one of his. It was a simple gesture of reassurance, but it caused her to feel breathless, overheated. “You just stick close to me all night,” he said. “We’ll take care of each other and make it through just fine.”

  “If you say so,” she said, trying to calm her trembling nerves. He smiled at her, and she felt somewhat at ease. No matter what, she knew he would not abandon her. He hadn’t talked her into going with him, paid for the dress, and smiled at her the way he had if he’d meant to embarrass her.

  Sayler had felt certain the depth of her blush would cause her head to burst into flames. The way every set of eyes at the Bennett Ball had stared at her and Bo when they’d entered the banquet hall at the Bennett Center had nearly caused her to faint with self-consciousness. Bo must’ve sensed her anxiety, for he had immediately put a supportive arm at her waist and led her to their table. She’d been somewhat relieved to see Joey and his wife, Ashley, sitting at their table. There were two other couples with them whom she didn’t know, but Bo introduced them quickly, and they didn’t stare at her for too long.

  “Dad and Mom couldn’t make it this year,” Joey explained. “Had to have their thirtieth wedding anniversary trip this week. They’re in Vermont.”

  Sayler was only thankful Mr. and Mrs. Booker were out of town. She surely would not have been able to endure meeting them, considering the state of her nerves.

  Still, the meal went well. The food was fabulous, and Bo was the perfect hero, speaking almost exclusively with her and often patting and giving her hand a reassuring grasp.

  She was uncomfortable whenever their meal was interrupted by a photographer begging permission to take a photograph. There seemed to be droves of photographers. It was very unsettling.

  “Paparazzi,” Bo joked once, winking understandingly at her. “You just have to get used to it when you work at Booker.”

  “You mean, when you are a Booker,” one of the older ladies at the table teased.

  “I’m sure you’ll create quite a stir, Miss Christy,” the woman’s husband added. “Taking Bo Booker off the market the way you have.”

  “P-pardon me?” Sayler stammered. Did they really think she was with him in a more serious manner?

  “A lot of women have tried to capture Bo in the past, Miss Christy,” the older lady explained. “But it’s plain to see—you’ve entirely won him over.”

  “Me?” Sayler choked. She looked to Bo for assistance, but he only winked and smiled at her. Joey and Ashley simply smiled as well. “Oh, but he’s my…he’s my—”

  “Let’s dance, shall we?” Bo said, pushing his chair back, standing, and offering his hand to Sayler.

  “What?” Sayler breathed, still stunned at the realization people might think she was involved with Bo. Further, he seemed content to let them believe it!

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “They’re starting.” Sure enough, the orchestra began playing a familiar composition. Blindly, she followed him to the dance floor, still stunned by what the people at their dinner table were thinking.

  Adeptly, Bo took her in dance position, smiling down at her as her hand drifted to its place at his shoulder.

  “They all think you’re my girlfriend,” he said. A tantalizing, mischievous smile spread across his face.

  “I-I know. I’m so sorry,” Sayler stammered.

  “Why?” he asked. “It’s not your fault.” He winked at her and added, “Although…it might be that dress’s fault. You look ravishing!”

  “Ravishing?” she giggled. She felt an eyebrow quirk in disbelief.

  “Yes, ravishing,” he repeated. “Meaning every man in this room wishes he could—” Sayler gasped and raised her hand from Bo’s shoulder to cover his mouth. He chuckled, and she smiled. He’d relaxed her a bit, made her feel more comfortable with the gift of simple teasing.

  “You’re a teaser,” she told him, removing her hand from his mouth.

  “Yeah…but I’m not teasing,” he told her, pulling her against him. He leaned down a little, pressing his chin to her temple.

  Sayler forced herself to breathe evenly, hoped he couldn’t hear or feel the mad pounding of her heart. She was intoxicated by his touch, the scent of his cologne. The moisture in her mouth was increasing, and she swallowed hard, trying not to swoon in his arms.

  After a few moments, he pulled back from her a bit and asked, “Did I ever tell you that Diane thought you were a stripper when you first came to work for me?”

  “What?” Sayler exclaimed. She blushed when she realized how loudly she responded to his question and noticed several couples dancing nearby looking at her.

  Bo chuckled and explained, “She heard Joey call you ‘the candy stripper’ that first day he saw you in the office.” He laughed. “She didn’t say anything for a long, long time. But just a couple of weeks ago, Joey and I took her to lunch, and she asked us where we’d met you and if you were really a stripper. She thought your alias was ‘Candy.’”

  “Oh my heck, Bo!” Sayler exclaimed, more quietly this time. “How awful! How embarrassing!”

  “Naw, it’s funny,” he assured her. Yet Sayler felt tears gathering in her eyes, felt her cheeks flush with the crimson of a humiliated blush.

  “I…I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “I’m so…I’m horrified!”

  “No, no, no!” he said, taking her face in his hands and studying her face. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Sayler. Please…I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s all right,” she breathed, hoping no one was witnessing her emotional tenderness. “It…it is funny.”

  “No. Not to you,” he whispered, taking her in dance position once more. “Maybe someday. But not yet, huh? I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she told him. She smiled at him. His concern was very real. “It…it is pretty funny, I guess.” He smiled, obviously relieved.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I thought about calling you Candy a couple of times in front of her just to make her wonder.”

  Sayler was over it now. So what if Diane had harbored a misconception for a couple of weeks? Diane knew her now and knew the truth. It was kind of funny.

  The song ended, and Sayler smiled at Bo as she applauded the orchestra with him. Another song began, one with an upbeat tempo, and Sayler felt her smile broaden as she watched Bo begin to move to it. He had a very appealing, entirely cool way of dancing—a sort of laid-back, super cool rock-star style. Sayler began to move too, feeling more and more comfortable with him.

  They danced eight numbers in a row before Joey finally approached and asked Sayler if he could dance with her.

  “One dance,” Bo had said, taking his sister-in-law, Ashley, in his arms.

  The music began, and Sayler felt a little nervous as Joey smiled at her.

  “Are you Booker men just naturally gifted dancers? Or did your mother have something to do with it?” Sayler asked Joey as he led her in a perfect waltz.

  “Both, I think,” he said. He smiled at her and asked, “So…how do you like working for us?”

  “I like it very much,” Sayler admitted. She nodded and added, “I can honestly say it’s the best job I’ve ever had.”

  “Good. It’s what we like to hear,” Joey said. He chuckled for a moment. “I still can’t believe you­—looking like you do—that you were Bo’s little candy strip
er a few years ago.”

  Sayler smiled. “I’ve changed a lot, I suppose.”

  “Not really,” Joey said. “I’d say you’re just a little more…a little more…legal now.” He chuckled again. “I thought Bo was heading straight for jail that day I picked him up at your rehab center. I didn’t know you were eighteen. I thought you were maybe sixteen or seventeen…and there he was, all over you like honey on a biscuit.” Sayler blushed, and he chuckled again. “But he explained to me you were old enough. Swore to me he’d tricked you into showing him your driver’s license so he’d be sure.”

  “Really?” Sayler asked. It was a very intriguing revelation. He’d wanted to know her age? Had he wanted to know it so he could kiss her that day he left?

  “Yes, really,” Joey said, smiling down at her. His smile faded a bit then. “Sayler, I know Bo’s…well he’s…he can be a little intimidating if you just take him strictly on his looks.” Sayler glanced away. Of course his looks were intimidating. “And he puts on a pretty good act of confidence. But he’s as mushy as the other guy. Do you know what I mean?”

  What was he trying to say? Was he trying to warn her of something?

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Just don’t judge him too harshly if he bumbles around a bit first,” Joey said.

  “I wouldn’t judge him too harshly about anything,” Sayler told him. She still didn’t understand what Joey was trying to convey.

  “Good,” he said as the song ended. “Make sure he keeps his hands to himself too.”

  “What?” Sayler asked. She was completely perplexed. Why would she need to make sure Bo kept his hands to himself? For a moment, the thought entered her mind that perhaps Joey thought Bo might be pursuing her in some regard—that perhaps he was worried Bo would try to take advantage of her somehow. She brushed aside any thoughts—actually, hopes—of the kind. Men like Bo Booker didn’t offer to pay women overtime if they were interested in them on any personal level.

  Sayler smiled as she saw Bo kiss Ashley’s hand and thank her for the dance. He smiled at her then, reaching out and taking hers.

  “I could use some water,” he said. “You?”

  “Oh, yes,” Sayler said. He smiled, linked her arm through his, and led her toward a table laden with beverages and refreshments.

  Bo held up two fingers to the man serving the beverages. “Water,” he said. The man poured water into two flutes and handed them to Bo.

  Sayler drank hers far more quickly than was proper. It was refreshing, and she looked around her. The room seemed renewed somehow, and she was momentarily dazzled by the crystal chandeliers and otherwise sparkling decor.

  “You wanna have some fun?” Bo asked, winking at her.

  “I’ve been having fun,” Sayler told him.

  “Me too,” Bo said. “But do you want to have some real fun?”

  “How?” Sayler asked. She had a vision of him asking her to be an accomplice in some sort of juvenile prank.

  “Well, you haven’t been noticing the flashes,” he said, linking her arm through his again.

  “What flashes?” she asked. She was truly innocent of his statement.

  He smiled and led her back toward the dance floor.

  “The millions of flashes from the photographers’ cameras,” he explained. “The Bennett Ball is one of the biggest events for the local gossip columns. Do you have a thick skin?”

  “I guess,” she said, shrugging. “I mean, I’ve worked with a woman for a month now who, for most of that month, thought I was a stripper.”

  Bo laughed and pulled her into dance position. The song the orchestra was playing was a slow jazz number, and Sayler loved the way Bo moved with her. He was intoxicating, like some decadent, alluring substance.

  “Okay then,” he said. “Let’s have some fun with this.”

  She gasped as both his hands suddenly encircled her waist, pulling her flush with his body.

  Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “Come on, Sayler. You remember high school, don’t you?” Sayler wasn’t quite sure what he meant until he whispered, “Back and forth, back and forth. Just like those stupid boys in high school.”

  Two things happened in that moment. Realizing once again Bo was referring to the conversation they’d had in his room at the Center three years previous, Sayler sighed and melted against him. He remembered! He seemed to remember it all almost as vividly as she did, and it caused her to tremble with delight for a time. Further, it caused her to understand what he’d meant by have some fun with this. He meant the local gossips to have something to really gossip about.

  He’d set the pretense for it only an hour before when he hadn’t explained things to the other couples at their table. He’d let them believe he was involved with Sayler in far more than a working relationship. She got it now. As she let her hands slide up his arms to his shoulders, as she folded her hands at the back of his neck and saw the quick flashes of light going off around her, she got it.

  “And so…the scandal begins,” he whispered. She felt him chuckle quietly.

  “I can see it now,” she whispered. “City’s most eligible bachelor—”

  “Satisfies his sweet tooth with Candy—” he interrupted, chuckling.

  “The Rawlins Rehabilitation Center stripper,” Sayler finished, bursting into giggles.

  Bo laughed too. Suddenly they were both trying desperately to restrain their laughter.

  “Shhh,” he whispered. “We’ll give it away.”

  Sayler closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she tried to calm herself. In the next moment, the song ended. She and Bo applauded, the moisture of excessive mirth evident in both their eyes.

  Sayler gasped as the orchestra began another song, a very familiar song. “Oh my heck,” she breathed, wondering if Bo had noticed it too. The orchestra had begun playing “Ooh Baby Baby.” There was not a vocalist, so a saxophone’s smooth air took the melody. It was an incredibly good rendition.

  “It’s our song,” Bo said, eyebrows raised in happy surprise. Instantly, his hands were at her waist as he began leading her to dance with him.

  “I…I can’t believe you remember that,” Sayler ventured, her hands resting tentatively at his broad shoulders.

  “Why not?” he asked. “It was great.” His smile was genuine. It seemed he really did hold it as a good memory. “Here,” he said then. “Sing to me all romantic-like.”

  “What?” Sayler giggled.

  “You know,” he instructed. “Sing it to me. You have a great voice…I remember.”

  “So do you,” she told him.

  “Fine,” he said. “Ooh baby, baby,” he sang quietly as the chorus began. He nodded at her, and she joined him during the repeats.

  “Ooh baby, baby,” she whispered.

  As they sang softly to the music, sang in unison to one another, Sayler found it increasingly difficult to breathe normally. Each time their mouths would round into the shape necessary to sing the word ooh, Bo would let his mouth hover a breath from her own. It was everything she could do to restrain herself from moving just enough to evaporate the space between them. It would be so easy to kiss him, and something in her told her he wouldn’t refuse her. Whether it was the onlooking photographers or something else, Sayler knew if she kissed Bo Booker at that moment, he would accept it.

  As the song ended, Sayler’s heart was beating with such a wild rhythm she thought she might pass out. Bo’s eyes seemed to smolder with some sort of withheld emotion as he looked at her. Sayler blinked as a flash went off nearby.

  “Let’s go,” Bo said abruptly. “I’ve had enough of the public eye for now.”

  He seemed angry, and Sayler was confused. He took hold of her hand tightly, pulling her along behind him.

  He said quick goodbyes to Joey and Ashley, only nodding at a few others as they left the ballroom.

  Sayler was upset. They’d been having fun, hadn’t they? Yet he seemed irritated, determined to leave as quickly as pos
sible.

  Before she knew it, they were back in the limo. Bo had said something to the driver before sitting down next to her. He definitely seemed agitated. Sayler went over every moment of the evening. Had she done something wrong? She couldn’t put her finger on anything.

  When Bo didn’t speak to her for the next ten minutes, her anxiety increased. Surely he was angry with her. He’d probably told the limo driver to take her back to her house. But when the car pulled into an unfamiliar development, she wasn’t certain.

  The car stopped before a large house, surrounded by tall pine trees. Even for the dark of the late hour of the evening, the house and grounds were well lit. Sayler could see it was a beautiful and very isolated home.

  Bo opened his door and got out of the limo. He said something to the driver and then went around, opening Sayler’s door and offered her his hand.

  “Come on,” he said when she hesitated. Tentatively, Sayler put her hand in his. Instantly, however, she felt less filled with dread as he helped her out of the car, slipping one arm around her waist.

  “Is…is this your house?” she asked.

  “Yep,” came his simple response. He did not take her into the house, however. Rather, he led her along a path around one side of the house to a wooded area in the back.

  Leading her to a small clearing just behind the house, he said, “Wait here a minute.” Quickly, he stepped up onto the deck and entered the house through a sliding glass door.

  “All right,” Sayler said as she stood perplexed. What else could she say? He’d rushed her from the Bennett Ball and into the limo. At first, she thought she had done something wrong. Now, however, she had no idea what to think.

  A light from the back deck had lit the clearing brightly, but all at once it dimmed. Sayler looked around. She wasn’t cold at all. The summer night was warm and fragrant. Cedar and pine soothed her senses as she inhaled. She looked up into the house, through the back sliding glass doors. She could see Bo pressing buttons on some sort of control panel.

  “Probably an alarm system,” she muttered to herself. She frowned as the heel of her shoe suddenly sunk into the soft grass beneath her feet. Looking up to see Bo still working with the control panel, she bent and removed her shoes.