She knew it wouldn’t last, though. She realized that like a football career, the average model’s time on the runway was short—three to six years. She determined she’d make the most of her time, but also make smart investments.
Fawna made so much money in the five years she spent modeling, she was able to buy the agency when the owner’s husband died suddenly and she decided she wanted to get out of the business to retire. Now Fawna spent her time growing her modeling agency—The Glam Squad. She’d added her own line of skin care and cosmetics to her brand. Her line thrived—keeping Fawna plenty busy.
Chapter Four
Gazing at Chicago’s twinkling lights below, she thought about how her business had flourished in ways she’d never have imagined.
She found the cultural diversity part of her business as rewarding as growing her make up and modeling brand. She remembered speaking out against a group of bullies throwing rocks and calling a Black child vile names when she was 10 or 11 years old. She stood with him as they both faced up to them—risking getting a rock in the face.
She was so angry at his tormenters that when she got home that day and washed her face after rinsing her tears, she could’ve sworn the face looking back at her in the bathroom mirror was an older Black girl whom she’d never seen before.
She closed her eyes, shook her head and looked again. Her own face stared back. A few days later on the playground, she saw a pretty Black girl looking at her.
The girl walked over to Fawna and said, “Thank you. My brother told me what you did on the playground the other day. Thanks for helping him.” Then she walked away. What baffled Fawna about the occurrence was the face she’d seen in her mirror after the incident, was that of the boy’s sister. And somehow, she could feel her pain. She knew even before she walked over to her, who she was and what she felt.
Whenever she encountered or spoke out against something she didn’t like, it was more than just words for her. She had a powerful voice she knew lived inside her, but deep in her heart, she felt it was much more. It terrified her. So much so she didn’t tell anyone about the visions she sometimes had. One reason it was so easy for Fawna to work 24/7 on her business was that she didn’t have much of a social life. She felt uncomfortable around other people. She didn’t like feeling their pain.
****
Fawna was proud of the way her business had turned out—though she still missed being able to become a pilot at times. She continued looking out at the breathtaking landscape, absorbed into her own little dreamworld until the pilot’s voice broke in to remind her she couldn’t remain in the cockpit.
“I’m sorry, Miss Zanobia-Walker, but I’ve got to radio in my descent into this electronic eavesdropper. We’ll be landing soon.”
“Please call me Fawna.”
“Ok, Fawna. but if they discover you’re in the co-pilot seat, it’ll be curtains for me. Please belt yourself in back in the cabin. It was sure nice having you join me up here.” He smiled at her, no hint of flirt in his eyes, just a friendly smile of a happily married man.
She thought about him, his wife and two little kids he’d told her about while she chatted with him earlier. He’d even shown her pictures. Such a happy family. As she walked back to the creamy white plush designer leather chair closest to the window and sat down and clinched her seat belt parts together until she heard the click, she thought about her husband, Stephen Walker, and wondered how he smiled at women he met casually. Did he flirt, or was he like Captain Chavez?
While the plane was landing, she daydreamed beyond the view of her window and pondered their lackluster sex life. Of late, it was almost non-existent. She had to practically beg him for sex. With her running her international business and him traveling the globe as President of Pace, one of the leading international limo and town car rental companies, they were lucky if they spent a week and a half a month together in their home in Lincoln Park.
On the outside looking in, people thought they were the perfect couple living in a big mansion with its expansive columns, cosmopolitan furnishings, marble floors and rooms as big as small islands. But she often felt a hole in her heart as large as that huge, rumbling mansion. How could she still be lonely on the nights the man she loved was sleeping right beside her? More and more she found herself working 16 to 18 hours a day and being lonely 24/7.
She thought maybe he was creeping on her with another woman. But she saw no signs—no lipstick on his collar—no late night phone calls—no calling out another woman’s name while they were fucking. Hell, she could barely get him to call out her name during sex.
He almost acted as if he could be eating an apple or watching television while he was screwing her—he didn’t make love to her anymore. Didn’t seem that engaged. It was a struggle for her to get him to do any foreplay. More like noplay. She made sure she put on skimpy lingerie, she even tried doing a little strip tease for him once.
He had an odd look on his face when she’d showcase herself to him in sexy get-ups. Hell, the night she’d walked the runway wearing the famous Victoria’s Secret Angel Wings, the crowd had gone wild!
One of the absolute highlights of her life was getting tips from Naomi Campbell on how to sashay down the runway. Everyone knows Naomi’s catwalk is utterly unbeatable.
Now the only one I want to show off my lingerie to acts as if he could care less, she heaved a heavy sigh while noticing the plane had landed and was taxi-ing onto the runway. I don’t want a room full of strangers applauding—I just want the one man I love to think I’m sexy.
“We’re here, Mrs. Zanobia-Walker, the flight attendant told her, breaking into her thoughts the way the captain had done earlier. She bid the small crew farewell and thanked both of them for being radio silent on her getting to sit in the cockpit during the landing. Her thoughts continued once she got into the back of the limo and the car began heading to her home in Lincoln Park.
Maybe he’d been cheating on her while he was away on business. The few times she’d purposely connected with him to catch him at anything—when she would surprise him by showing up in New York or Paris when he was away on business—she saw no signs of another woman. She knew he was a workaholic. Maybe that was all it was. He gave everything to his work. She wished he had a little more left over for her.
She’d met him almost four years ago and if she was to believe in love at first sight, that’s what happened. She loved telling their story to friends and family. “He literally swept me off my feet—no really!
“When I turned around in the rental car agency to look up and feast my eyes on the 6’ 4” hunk with some of the hypnotic bluest eyes I’d ever seen and a thick, sexy-as-hell mustache staring at me—he smiled and that was it! Well, it was a little more to it than that,” she’d confess with a gleam in her eyes.
“While we were in line, I remember the joke he told me when he admitted how he hated being in New York when the weather resembled Chicago’s.
“In Chicago there are four seasons,” he’d told me. “Winter, Winter, Winter and the Fourth of July.”
“Of course, I agreed, and I flashed a big grin.”
“As I walked away after I’d paid for my car, I sat down in the waiting area to gather my receipts and put them into my briefcase.
“I barely looked up when I heard someone gasp. Out of nowhere, this pair of big arms swept me out of my chair. I had no idea why. When I caught my breath, I looked at my seat to see large mop handle plunked down onto the back of the chair. If Stephen hadn’t been so quick with his reflexes the blunt of that mop handle would’ve probably given me a good goose egg. So you see, I’m totally not lying when I say he swept me off my feet.
“The custodian went to drink from the nearby water fountain and failed to secure the mop into the bucket firmly enough to keep it from slipping. He apologized profusely, but,” she remembered how she chuckled whenever she told the story, “I think I owe him a big thank you. As soon as I realized who’d grabbed me, I was a goner.”
/> She remembered whenever she’d told that story and Stephen was there, he would blush, then smile down at her and kiss her cheek or the tip of her nose. People looked at them as being head over heels in love. When they first met and got married, she would have agreed.
“She tells the story as if it was love at first sight,” he’d continue. “However—it took six dozen Rhapsody of Roses delivered to her hotel suite at the Waldorf to persuade her to go out with me.”
She’d pick the story back up from Stephen. “I remembered what I said after he rescued me. Thanks for taking me out of harm’s way. I’m sure that mop would’ve smarted—I’m Fawna Zanobia, I stood, set down my briefcase, straightened my clothes, then held my hand out. I was trying to remain professional.
“He shook my hand and said, It was my distinct pleasure, ma’am,” When he beamed that grand piano of a smile at me, I could hear my heart thumping. Then he introduced himself and couldn’t resist teasing me a little.”
“I’m Stephen Walker, may I see you to your rental? I’d like to be on the lookout for anymore mop handles that just may fall out of this chill-filled sky and hit you on the head.”
“I laughed, nodded and followed him out of the office as he took my carry-on bag in his hand and held the door open for me. As he waited for the chauffeur to bring the car to the entryway, we continued talking.
“Are you here on business?” He’d asked me.
“Yes, I am. I opened my purse and handed him one of my business cards. “I own the company. I’m here speaking at the New York Woman’s Expo tomorrow.”
“Then he whistled,” then said,
“I’m impressed. Where are you staying?”
“At the Waldorf Astoria on Park Avenue. That’s when the car pulled up and the driver got out and greeted us both then opened the back passenger door and grabbed my luggage from Stephen.
“The driver popped open the trunk and slipped my carry-on bag inside while I pushed my briefcase in the passenger seat next to where I’d be sitting.
“Thanks again, I told Stephen before I got ready to get in the car. And thanks for helping me with my things. It’s pretty cold, I’d better go.” I slid into the seat while the driver got back behind the wheel, ready to take off once he saw we were done talking.”
“He held the car door open and asked me if I had any plans for the evening.”
“I’m sorry, I’m busy tonight,” I remember telling him—I was trying to gently turn him down even though I thought he was hot as hell.”
He told me, “I’ll be here on business for the rest of the week.”
“Then he pulled his card out of his suit pocket and handed it to me. “Don’t hesitate to call me,” his smile was intoxicating. I was a goner.”
“OK, take care,” I said, still trying to sound coy.
“Take care, nice meeting you, Ms. Zanobia.”
“He closed the door to my rental and signaled the driver to take off.” “That’s when the chauffeur rolled the window down and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Walker.”
“Stephen nodded and walked back into the rental office.”
I asked him, “Is he a regular customer at the company?”
“He’s my boss. He owns Pace, Ms. Zanobia.”
“Wow. So how is he to work for?”
“The best. He treats us employees like gold. Even though he’s a bachelor, he’s a real family man.”
“At the time, I knew Pace was one of the leading car rental companies in the world. They have offices in every airport I’ve ever been in.
“I was impressed, and it sure didn’t hurt that he was luscious,” she’d giggle. “Course, I was sure I’d never see him again.
“Of course I didn’t have plans for dinner, but a girls gotta be careful these days. I never say yes to a stranger—just in case he turns out to be a serial killer.
“I shudder whenever I think about The Craig’s List Killer. Hell, the man was charming, handsome as all get out, but went on a seven day rampage—killing one woman and robbing another, she’d tell her friends.
“Once I’d made it through the stand-still traffic in Manhattan, checked in and took the elevator up to the room, I walked in and there were two dozen huge red roses sitting in the center of the mahogany and glass entryway table waiting for me. I was dazzled.
“The attached card read—You’re the one. Will you marry me? Stephen.
“The roses were in a large clear crystal vase and looked as if they were sitting on a cloud of white baby’s breath with a big red bow—the flower shop they came from even had a name on the envelope the card was in with the name of the design—Rhapsody of Roses. I’ll never forget that name.
“I couldn’t believe it!” She mused. “It’s one of the most romantic things that has ever happened to me. To this day I still don’t know how he’d done it—but I gotta tell ya—I was impressed.”
Chapter Five
“After two more fabulous flower deliveries to my room at the Waldorf, the next and and the next, and three phone calls that lasted deep into the night—I was convinced.
“I’m not exactly a ‘see-him-sex-him kind of gal’, she’d explain, but we made love all weekend,” they’d both blush and look seductively at each other whenever she told that part of their story.
Those were the days, she was wistful while she noticed the limo was getting close to her house. She remembered how attentive he’d once been. He’d caressed her skin. He’d planted deep romantic kisses on her lips and on her breast and on her nipples. He’d sent her shivering with excitement the first time he kissed the pearl between her legs.
He’d even fingered her until he’d tickled her G-spot. They both broke up when she’d just about squirted her juices across the room. She’d never felt anything so orgasmic.
For the next three months, they spent as many weekends together as they could. Each time he’d made love to her as if she were the last woman alive and he couldn’t get enough. When they married six months later, she thought that was the kind of romantic relationship they’d enjoy for a lifetime. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Soon after they said their vows, he stopped wooing her. He seemed to be more interested in the chase and less in the catch.
She clung to the bottle of champagne she’d had tucked away in her briefcase. She’d already taken a few sips to steel her courage, determined they’d get back to that kind of loving—starting tonight.
She smoothed her red corset—the one she’d had delivered from Paris from the Abuade Lingerie Boutique. She’d been looking over their ‘lessons in seduction’ advertisements and thought the small intimate boutique had just what she needed to sex up their love life again, so she invested in several sensual garments the last time she visited 22 Rue Du Vieux Colombier.
She’d had several pieces boxed and sitting in her office for a couple of months, unsure of what to do about their lackluster love life. Stephen kept insisting he was just as in love with her as the day they met—he just had some business deals on his mind of late. “I love you as much as the day I first laid eyes on you,” he’d tell her then he’d kiss the tip of her nose and walk away.
She thought their time apart and the fact that they hadn’t made love in almost a month would make him as horny as she, so she determined to make her move tonight. Expensive champagne, a sexy red corset, black high heels and a sexy garter belt ought to do it.
After the limo parked in her circular driveway at her house, she gave the chauffeur instructions to wait.
“We’ll be out in a few minutes.” She thought it would be romantic to go for a late night limo ride. Fawna hoped she could loosen Stephen up with the champagne and turn him on with her sexy outfit.
She turned her key into the mansion and made her way up the stairs. She didn’t call Stephen to let him know her business had concluded a day early, so she knew she’d be surprising him. At this hour, she knew he’d be in bed. Fawna crept up the stairs and walked down the large hallway to their bedroom and turned the knob to open the
master bedroom door and flipped on the light.
Her lips, as scarlet as peonies, parted tragically. A dull horror gathered in her wide eyes. Her slender face framed in a mass of jet-black curls turned ash-white from the sight. She leaned forward, her trembling tense hands clasped her neck, her gaze never leaving the shocked face of the man who, dressed in lingerie much like she had had delivered to her office to surprise him, lie in her bed locked in an impassioned kiss with one of his younger staff members—Jeffery Clark.
They both jerked up and away from their embrace once the light flooded in and showcased them. Fawna stood in the doorway—unable to move. Puffed languid spirals of smoke rode toward the ceiling from the ashtray Jeffrey had on her side of the bed atop her nightstand.
He jumped up, grabbed his cigarette, flicked the ash from it, and glanced at its glowing tip. “At last,” he drawled. “She knows. Better call Saul,” he snarked. He grabbed some clothing, rolled his eyes toward Fawna and walked into the bathroom.
Chapter Six
“Ok, boys. said Tory, still in the deep of the Magic forest. I’m going to shrink both of them so we can all pitch in and help. They’re going to need some powerful spells cast—especially him.” She pointed her eyes onto the one who was unconscious. Blink. The humans shrunk—fitting in one of her palms.
“Now, you take your brother’s hand, Jonah, and you take mine, Joseph.” She blinked them all back to her mom and dad’s abode.
****
Tory had they boys make a bed with soft face cloths to lie the humans on until she could make up one of the unused rooms. She wove magical spells, making brooms sweep cobwebs out corners and mops polish the floors. Fresh linens brought themselves out of the closet nearby and plunked themselves neatly on each bed.
Flying Fawna Page 2
