Simon Says...

by Donna Kauffman

  Having seen Tolliver at his less-than-commanding best, it was Sophie who did a double take when she finally spotted him, standing near one of the cases displaying part of his collection. In this instance, the tux definitely made the man. He stood out, even in a sea of custom-cut tuxedos. His gleaming silver hair was a far cry from the damp, stringy mess she’d seen, postshower. Instead, it was quite the elegantly styled, leonine mane, shown off to great distinction by the black-on-black perfectly tailored tux, with a single-button jacket, placard-front shirt and expertly knotted silk bow tie. His laughter was rich and melodic, and carried effortlessly over the conversational noise of the crowded room, naturally drawing people closer.

  Sophie was part of that wave, trying to look both conspicuous and inconspicuous at the same time and likely not pulling off either. As she approached, she could hear snippets of his conversation and marveled at how completely different he was here, in this setting, than he had been in the privacy of his suite. Granted, there he’d been quite upset, unlike here where he was making contacts and trying to impress people. But she’d have never thought the man she’d inadvertently met just out of the shower could ever transform himself into this charming, elegant leading man. Sean Connery could take lessons.

  She could only hope her change in appearance was equally dramatic, so there would be no chance he’d recognize her as the maid who’d trespassed into his room. And then the time to worry was over, as the ebb and flow of the crowd flowed more than it ebbed, literally pushing her directly into his immediate circle of sycophantic followers and hangers-on.

  Conversation stuttered to a halt as she barely righted herself with the help of someone’s hand on her elbow, then turned to thank them with what she hoped was a gracious, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry.”

  It was Tolliver’s hand on her elbow. She hoped she hadn’t gone completely pale. Her smile was frozen as she tried to swallow past the sudden tightness in her throat.

  “My, my,” he murmured. “I’m not remotely sorry. Good evening, Miss…?”

  How was it that the voice that had been so chilling, so soulless, so…dead, was now so warm and lively? She carefully withdrew her elbow from his light grasp, apologized to the gentleman next to Tolliver, whose foot she’d just missed puncturing with her heel, then turned to face him again with what she hoped was a natural-looking smile. “Maplethorpe. Sophie Maplethorpe.”

  She extended her hand, which he quite gallantly lifted as he bowed over it. Fortunately he’d stopped short of kissing the back, as she didn’t really want to find out exactly where Simon was quite yet. Nor did she need to add nausea to the list of things already making her supremely uncomfortable. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tolliver. Quite the collection you’ve put on display here. I’m sure my fellow Chicagoans agree that we’re fortunate to be the recipients of such generosity.”

  My, my, indeed. Wasn’t she suddenly just the chatty little socialite? Maybe Julia Roberts should watch out after all. She swallowed again and tried to maintain direct, easy eye contact.

  “Why, thank you. I’m so pleased to hear you think so. And, call me Langston.” He turned to the stunning brunette standing next to him, who was presently looking daggers at Sophie, but who smiled quite impressively when cued. “Please allow me to introduce my guest this evening, Marcelina Brand.”

  Look at her face, look at her face, Sophie schooled herself. Which shouldn’t have been all that difficult. Millions had before her, as Marcelina’s exquisite visage had graced numerous billboards and magazine covers. But it was almost an impossible assignment when she was wearing a huge, honking emerald necklace around her neck. Sophie tried to remember her as the giggling bimbo from the shower, but staring at Marcelina now, it was hard to believe she’d ever cracked a real smile, much less a laugh.

  Realizing she was gawking, though she assumed Marcelina was quite used to it, probably expected it, given the rather bored expression on her face, Sophie quickly extended her hand for a brief, feminine hand-clasp before giving up the battle entirely and simply staring at the stunning array of stones covering the full stretch of the supermodel’s neck and collarbones. “That is an amazing, amazing piece you’re wearing. Did you have it specially designed?”

  “Thank you,” Marcelina said, managing to sound all breathless sex-kitteny, even as her green-eyed gaze said careful-or-I’ll-cut-you-bitch. “For some reason, Langston thought I was the one to showcase them.”

  Sophie had heard the word cooed used to describe a tone of speech, but, until now, she’d never heard it in action.

  Marcelina slid her arm possessively through Tolliver’s and Sophie wanted to reassure the supermodel that she was quite safe from any attempt at poaching her date. As if Sophie had a prayer. In fact, that Marcelina felt the need to make a public show of claiming him at all was rather unbelievable. Like any sane man would switch partners while she was on his arm.

  “I don’t see how he could have chosen anyone better,” Sophie said, part of her marveling at how well she was maintaining the flow of conversation in such a surreal situation, even as her mouth continued to move and words continued to come out. “I can’t imagine how it feels to wear something like that.”

  “Priceless,” Tolliver interjected. “The feeling of wearing the Shay emerald is as priceless as the piece itself.” He covered Marcelina’s hand with his own, but his gaze was focused purely on Sophie. “I believe it would turn any woman into a piece of art.”

  Marcelina frowned slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure if she’d been properly complimented—Sophie doubted she’d ever even consider she’d been insulted—but then must have realized she was wrinkling her perfect skin and immediately smoothed her expression to one of bored tolerance.

  “You look quite familiar, my dear,” Tolliver was saying. “Where would our paths have crossed?”

  Sophie’s heart came to a full stop, then raced ahead like a rabbit. “I beg your pardon?” she managed, as if she hadn’t properly heard the question, still so taken with the radiance of the necklace. She smiled brightly. Well, mostly, she tried not to throw up on the man’s shiny black leather shoes.

  “I don’t recall meeting her,” Marcelina was saying.

  “Darling, I meet people every day,” he said dismissively, still gazing at Sophie.

  “We haven’t met,” Sophie assured her quickly, before Marcelina could stab her with a hairpin, which, if the look in her blazing green eyes was any indication, she was a heartbeat away from doing. “I work for the Wingate. In fact, I helped with the new security detail you requested. But we didn’t meet.”

  “Perhaps that’s it then,” he said, smiling quite congenially. “I’m quite certain I’d have remembered specifics had we met face-to-face.” He took her hand again, and bowed. “A woman who could put a work of art to shame with just her smile.”

  My, my, Sophie thought, wanting desperately to press a hand to her stomach. He really was quite the smooth one.

  “So, you’re here in some kind of professional capacity, then?” Marcelina asked, her interest clearly feigned, as if she was being hard-pressed to be nice to the help, but managing all the same for the sake of appearances.

  Sophie assumed she’d had tons of practice with that. “Why no,” she said, slipping her hand from Tolliver’s once again and turning her brightest smile toward the model. “Why do you ask?”

  Marcelina lifted a slender shoulder, as if she could hardly be bothered to respond, now bored with the conversation. “I assumed the Wingate must be catering the affair or some such. After all, the guest list is quite…” She ran her gaze over Sophie, from her self-styled hair to her store-bought heels. “…exclusive.”

  “Actually, she’s with me,” came a feminine voice from behind Sophie. “Us, I should say.”

  Delia. Sophie turned with the first honest smile she’d had all night. “And Adam,” she finished out loud, surprised to see him, though she couldn’t have said why. Mrs. Wingate was nothing if not clever in her campaign
to earn as much media attention as possible. If she couldn’t get the Art Institute to change the date, she’d simply make sure the Wingate family was represented at the gala and garnered some of the spotlight away from the event, during the event.

  Still it was a surprise that Arlene had employed her about-to-be-married son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law in the battle, considering the packed calendar of duties that Sophie knew firsthand from her friend was dominating literally every second of her waking hours until the wedding began. In fact, Sophie wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Arlene had ordered instructional subliminal recordings to be played while Delia slept.

  “What a pleasure to meet the happy couple,” Tolliver said, his charm not ebbing for so much as a millisecond. “I’ve heard so much about you both. I trust everything is moving along smoothly with the upcoming nuptials?”

  Delia stepped forward and gave Marcelina a direct snub by taking Tolliver’s hand and favoring him with a smile, while appearing not to notice that he was there with a guest. Much less a guest of such international acclaim. Sophie wanted to applaud, but she felt it would be in poor taste.

  “Why yes, thank you, Mr. Tolliver. It’s been a true fairy tale, from beginning to end.”

  Sophie’s urge to applaud continued, but now it was for the complete transformation of her best friend. She’d sounded so…sincere. And she truly looked like Cinderella at the ball. Her blond hair in a perfectly coiffed chignon, elegant, shimmering blue gown, diamonds and sapphires on her ears and around her neck. Who was this perfect princess? Certainly not the same woman Sophie had consumed copious amounts of almond rocca and Chunky Monkey ice cream with after yet another bad date or failed relationship.

  “Not that there will be an end,” Adam so perfectly interjected, smiling his handsome Prince Charming smile as he reached out to pump Tolliver’s hand.

  “Well, and who wouldn’t live happily-ever-after with such a stunning bride on his arm,” Tolliver said. “I wish you both the best.”

  “Thank you,” Delia said. “So, Mr. Tolliver, tell us about your collection. Very impressive. And it’s all from your personal ancestry?”

  “You must call me Langston,” he said, before launching into a detailed description of the various pieces.

  Sophie took a much needed moment to regroup and step out of the immediate spotlight, listening with half an ear, but privately scanning the crowd to see if she could spot Simon.

  Then Marcelina, apparently upset with not being the center of attention for more than thirty seconds, took possession of Tolliver once more by leaning closer and saying, quite petulantly, “I’m still waiting on my drink, darling.”

  “Come with me,” Adam said, jumping in like a man rescued, then winked at Tolliver. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I steal your stunning date away for a moment.” He laughed then, and added, “I’ve only another night as a free man, so it will be the last time I can be seen with such a lovely woman on my arm who isn’t my wife without raising a scandal.”

  Everyone smiled and laughed, because Adam’s golden boy good looks and beaming confidence—not to mention his bank account—demanded it, but Sophie could only look at Delia, who did a remarkable job of hiding her disappointment in once again being ignored by her fiancé and left standing without so much as a backward glance, much less a drink order, as he took off with Marcelina. Sophie imagined Delia hadn’t missed the fact that Adam took the time to work the room with the supermodel on his arm, as he traveled a very circuitous route to one of the several bars that had been set up for the night’s event.

  Unfortunately, Sophie was so caught up watching her friend attempting to mask her disappointment, that she missed spying on Tolliver to see if he’d sent any kind of signal to anyone to follow Marcelina. Maybe he felt she was in safe hands, given Adam’s superstar status in the room. The entire event, for that matter, was heavily, and quite visibly secure, making her wonder how Simon planned on removing the piece from the premises even if he could get it away from the model.

  “Yes, there has been a lot of attention. People magazine will be doing a spread,” Delia was saying. “We just confirmed today.”

  Sophie turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, wishing she could follow Marcelina and Adam—or, more to the point, the necklace. But with Tolliver’s date and Delia’s date abandoning them, it rather forced them to remain and make small talk. Sophie could have likely come up with some reason to excuse herself before she lost sight of the couple, and might have, if it weren’t for the death grip Delia now had on her arm.

  “You must be so thrilled,” exclaimed a female member of the small throng enveloping Tolliver, Delia and Sophie in a circle of attention.

  “Yes, it’s all very exciting,” Delia responded, sounding slightly less authentically enthused than she had moments before.

  “You know,” Sophie said brightly, sliding her arm through Delia’s, “with the whirlwind of events, we’ve barely been able to get two seconds alone.” She beamed at the group, then looked at Tolliver. “Would it be horribly rude if I stole her away for a few moments?”

  “No, no,” Tolliver assured her, already turning his attentions to another twentysomething ingénue who had joined their circle. “It was a pleasure making both of your acquaintances,” he said with a brief smile, then was fully engaged in his new conversation, bowing over another slender hand, before they’d even broken the sycophant circle.

  “Thank God,” Sophie breathed, as they cleared the group. She immediately scanned the room, but had completely lost sight of Adam and Marcelina. A quick look back at the cluster around Tolliver didn’t show any obvious muscle lurking about. She’d been too stunned by the change in his appearance and demeanor to make note of that earlier when she’d first approached the group.

  Then Delia was all but dragging her off to the side of the room they were in, ducking them both around behind another display. “I was so surprised to see you here. Why didn’t you tell me? And where in the world did you get that dress? You look really amazing. I can’t believe it’s you.”

  “Thanks,” Sophie said dryly, “I think.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just had no idea you’d be here. Why are you here? And who are you with? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “Ditto. Although you making the guest list is far less surprising than me making it. Still, I’m amazed Arlene let you two out of her evil clutches for so much as five minutes. I figured she’d have you both in shackles until you were standing in front of clergy.”

  “We weren’t supposed to be here, but she decided it was an ‘advantageous opportunity’ to talk about the People magazine spread and—”

  “Steal the spotlight away from the very worthy cause the benefit is promoting and hog the media wherever possible?” Sophie finished brightly, then immediately recanted when her friend’s expression wobbled. “I’m sorry. But, come on, it’s not like we haven’t both bashed Arlene before when we’ve had the chance. You and I both know she’s a barracuda, but I shouldn’t have been so thoughtless with everything you must be going through. It’s almost over,” she said, rubbing her arm. “Day after tomorrow.”

  “I know,” Delia said, but she clearly wasn’t really paying attention to Sophie.

  “What? What is it, Dee? What’s wrong?”

  Dee pulled her farther into the shadows, leaving Sophie to pray that Simon had somehow seen Marcelina and Adam’s defection and was, right this very second, hot on their trail. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” Delia’s eyes grew suspiciously glassy. “I don’t know.”

  “Is there a problem? Did something happen?”

  “Remember how I told you earlier this week that I’d decided to just fully commit myself to becoming a full-fledged Wingate wife, that my goal was to be the partner Adam truly needed and desired?”

  Uh-oh. “Yes, of course I remember. Why, is Arlene giving you a hard time again? Did his sisters say something? Bec
ause, if you truly love him and want to support him, you’re going to have to find a way to develop a thick skin with them. In fact, I think it’s high time you considered standing up a little for yourself where they are concerned. Otherwise I’m afraid they’re going to make your life miserable forever.”

  Dee’s eyes went from glassy to teary. She dabbed at the corners as first one tear escaped, then another. “Oh God,” she said, “I can’t cry. Not here, not now. If anyone sees me crying, it will be a spectacle. Arlene hates spectacles, and so does Adam. Unless, of course, they’re the ones creating the spectacle, then all bets are off.”

  It was the first time in a while that Sophie had heard that particular tone in her friend’s voice. “Come on, we’ll find the ladies’ room, do a quick repair.”

  “There is no quick repair that will fix this,” Dee said, sniffing.

  Sophie could spy the imminent collapse of whatever reserve of strength her friend still had left. “Let’s get out of here. Some fresh air and privacy. Just for a few moments.” She took her hand. “Come on. We’ll figure this out.”

  Delia sniffled behind her as Sophie looked for the most direct but private exit. She sent a steady stream of silent apologies to Simon, wherever he was, for once again screwing up her assignment. Clearly she was not cut out for the job, but that didn’t keep her from feeling horrible about it. “Here,” she said, spying an exit door in the rear of the room. Praying it didn’t set off alarms, she pushed through it, and a few seconds later, spied another door leading to a side exit from the building. This one was guarded, but the uniformed gentleman took one look at the obvious distress on Delia’s face and opened the door for them. “Ladies,” he said, nodding. “You’ll have to re-enter at the front.”