The Blush Factor

by Gun Brooke

  “I’m such an idiot!” Hissing at herself, she finally changed dresses. The blue dress wasn’t as thin when it came to the fabric, but it was decidedly shorter. Not so much that she looked indecent, or at least she didn’t think so, but schexy, to quote Stacey. Holding her breath, she returned to her bedroom.

  *

  Eleanor tried to calm down her speeding pulse. Addison’s impulsive nature and the way she was used to being on camera were obvious. When she’d walked up to the computer and bent forward to show off the fabric, Eleanor had gotten more of a view of satin-skinned cleavage than she bargained for. Flawless in high-definition, Addison’s chest had been far too close and made Eleanor’s throat dry up and her heart pound with painful contractions.

  Now the door at the far end of Addison’s bedroom opened and she emerged in a dark-blue dress that simply stole the last breath Eleanor had counted on keeping. Short, but not sleazy, it hugged every beautiful curve of Addison’s body. It was as if it were tailor made for her, and even if this dress meant trouble—because Addison would have to fight both men and women to keep them off her—Eleanor knew this was the one.

  Addison pivoted slowly, her hands raised. “What do you think?”

  “I think…that’s it.”

  “Really?” Addison’s mouth fell open. “It’s kind of short.”

  “Are you uncomfortable with that?”

  “No, well, not really. It’s rather forgiving. Stretchy. I think I’ll be okay. I have black pumps to wear with—”

  “No. I have to object. This dress needs a statement when it comes to the shoes. You need some in the same color. Give Susan your size and I’ll have some sent over.” She could tell Addison was about to disagree; her hands were back on those curvaceous hips. Eleanor held up her right hand, forestalling the words. “Non-negotiable. If you wear this with the wrong shoes, it’ll cheapen it. It’s a designer dress, right?”

  “Calvin Klein,” Addison said, her voice barely more than a murmur.

  “I rest my case.” Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll have several pairs to choose from. I’ll make sure my personal shopper delivers them in time for you to get used to them.”

  Addison sat down with a thud on the bed. “Personal shopper?” she asked weakly.

  “Yes. A very efficient use of my time, not having to browse through stores when Yvette does it ten times as fast and knows just what I want.” Eleanor checked her watch. “It’s getting late. I have work to do and I’m sure you do too.” She hesitated for a moment, feeling rather silly. “Did you post the new video to your channel?”

  “Yup,” Addison said, and came over to the desk, looking a little more relaxed. “It should be ready to be viewed now. It’s actually a hair tutorial and a mini haul of affordable makeup from Walmart and Target.”

  Eleanor enjoyed those types of videos, as she got to view Addison and see her personality shine through. Like now, she realized. Now that Addison didn’t act so self-conscious, the sparkle was back in her eyes and her smile was bright enough to light up half of Newark.

  “Well. If I have time, I’ll watch it later.” Eleanor knew she was such a fraud. She had several important dossiers to go through and contracts to read, but she’d watch Addison’s video first.

  “Oh, great. Well, I suppose I’ll run into you at the cocktail party?”

  “Yes. Good night.” Eleanor clicked the red button and closed the video call. With embarrassing eagerness, she clicked over to The Blush Factor’s YouTube channel and then hovered with the cursor over the link to the newest video. She wasn’t ready to analyze why she was like a trembling schoolgirl at the prospect of having a few minutes more of Addison, but she would have to sooner rather than later.

  Now that she knew more about Addison and would be seeing her on a regular basis at Face Exquisite, she needed to get this…this damn infatuation under control. Watching Addison parade in sexy cocktail dresses certainly hadn’t helped. Despite her reasoning, Eleanor clicked on the link and pushed back as Addison came into view. Dressed in a soft-looking blue cardigan set, her auburn hair flowing down across her left shoulder, she smiled and waved with that familiar flick of the fingertips again.

  “Hello, everybody. You like the Rita Hayworth waves? You can easily make them with a flat iron. Yes, a flat iron, I’m not joking.” Addison giggled. “All you have to remember is to use some heat-protective spray in your hair to protect it…”

  The clip lasted fifteen minutes, and when Eleanor refreshed the web browser, she saw that more than 175,000 people had viewed Addison’s tutorial and haul. She couldn’t say she was surprised. Whatever quality Addison possessed to generate such interest, clearly it worked on middle-aged business tycoons as well.

  A small voice in the back of her mind insisted that this interest could very well be her undoing.

  Chapter Six

  “A limo? A freaking limo?” Stacey’s voice cracked as she glanced behind the woman at the door. “What—I mean, did your Eleanor arrange this?” She turned to Addison.

  “First of all, she’s not my Eleanor, but yes, so it would seem.” Addison shook her head as she greeted the woman waiting patiently to be acknowledged. “I’m so sorry. Forgive our less than sophisticated squealing. I’m Addison. This is my sister, Stacey.”

  “I’m Gina Gallo, Gallo’s Limo Service,” the compact brunette said. She wore her hair in a ponytail under her chauffeur’s cap, and her black uniform was flawless. “The Ashcroft Group has an account with us, and I’m to drive Ms. Stacey Garr to a party at a locale in Midtown. I’ll wait for her until midnight, or if she wants to go home sooner, and also stay with her if nobody is home.”

  “God, you’re a babysitter too?” Stacey clearly was torn between awe and outrage.

  “So it would seem.”

  “No offense, but I can’t let a stranger into our home to ‘babysit’ Stacey, even if it’s a nice idea.”

  “I’m not a stranger, per se. I’m the president of Gallo’s Limo Service, and Ms. Ashcroft has known my family and me for more than a decade. You can verify this if you need to.” Gina looked friendly and calm. “In about an hour, Piotr, one of my employees, will arrive to drive you to the function, Ms. Garr. He will pick up Ms. Ashcroft on the way also.”

  “Ah. I see.” Addison really didn’t, but she had to concede that Eleanor had thought of everything.

  “Very well. Do you have my cell number in case you need to get ahold of me?” Addison looked pointedly at Gina, who nodded.

  “I have that and, of course, Ms. Ashcroft’s details.”

  “Okay, sweetie-girl.” Addison hugged Stacey quickly. “You have your medication?” she whispered in her ear.

  “Yeah, yeah. You asked me twice already.”

  “And you know—”

  “If I need to, I’ll go home early. I know that too.”

  Stacey meant what she said. If she got one of her migraines, she wouldn’t be able to tolerate the sound levels of a party full of teenagers. “Good. Now go have fun. You look fantastic.”

  “Thanks.” Going a little pink, Stacey motioned toward the white limousine. “Guess I should at least try the bar in this thing.”

  “She’s kidding,” Addison said to Gina, who flinched. “Aren’t you, Stace?”

  “Of course I am. I don’t drink.”

  “That’s a relief,” Gina said, and began walking toward curb.

  Addison watched as Stacey stepped inside the vehicle and grinned as she heard yet another squeal from Stacey. “Whoa, there are freaking stars on the ceiling!”

  Gina pulled out into the street, and even if Addison couldn’t see Stacey through the tinted windows, she stood in the open doorway until the limousine was out of sight. She sighed deeply, feeling happy for her sister but also strangely unnerved. This wasn’t the first party Addison had ever attended, but it was the first time she’d gone to such a huge event. The fact that it was held in Manhattan wasn’t making it easier. “At least I’ll be in the same area, more
or less,” she murmured to herself.

  She closed the door and walked inside. She’d already put on her makeup but had to dry her hair and get dressed before the next Gallo limo arrived.

  *

  Eleanor adjusted the spaghetti straps of her black Chanel cocktail dress. As it was cut just above the knees, she was grateful for having youthful skin, not to mention the means to indulge in massages and facials. Though not very vain, she knew attractive looks were part of being successful in business, which was even truer for women. She sprayed her hair once more to lock the perfect waves in place. With little patience for having stylists and makeup artists poke and prod her, Eleanor had learned to perfect her signature look by herself. She had also picked up several tips from Addison via YouTube, and she wondered briefly what it would be like to have the young woman do her makeup. She pressed a hand to her midsection and forced the thought away. Checking the time, she donned her black faux-mink fur coat. Reaching to her hips, it gave her a nice silhouette.

  The elevator down to the foyer played experimental jazz as usual, clearly meant to sound classy, but Eleanor thought it was ridiculously snobbish. Making a mental note to have Susan file a complaint, she stepped out to the foyer. The doorman held the door for her.

  “I believe your car is here, Ms. Ashcroft.” He smiled, which made his white mustache curl. A former homicide detective, he had worked as a guard and doorman for as long as Eleanor had lived in the penthouse.

  “Thank you, Bernard.” Eleanor nodded in passing.

  Outside, the wind had picked up and the streetlight swayed above her. The chauffeur, a young man with white-blond hair, held the door open. Cursing under her breath, Eleanor hurriedly stepped inside before the wind completely destroyed her hair.

  “Good evening,” Addison said softly from the other end of the backseat. “Looks like we’re in for a storm.”

  “Addison.” Eleanor let her gaze travel from the rich, auburn hair that billowed around Addison’s shoulders. The Calvin Klein dress looked even more spectacular as Addison was sitting down, thus making the hemline ride up and display more of those shapely thighs. She was wearing a simple dark-gray wool coat, making Eleanor wish she’d thought to ask about that. She glanced down at Addison’s feet and was pleased to see blue four-inch Jimmy Choo pumps.

  “Do I pass inspection?” Addison tilted her head and her shiny hair slipped forward over her left shoulder, a pose with which Eleanor was already only too familiar.

  “Of course.” Eleanor settled in, enjoying the heated seat.

  “You, on the other hand, look amazing. It’s just—” Addison broke off and colored faintly. She gestured at Eleanor’s hair. “The wind…”

  “What?” Eleanor heard herself bark in that low growl that normally sent her minions scurrying.

  Not Addison. Instead, she opened her clutch purse and pulled out a compact. Opening it, she handed it to Eleanor. “Look. Want me to fix it?”

  Eleanor checked her appearance and frowned when she saw how the wind had wreaked havoc with her hair. Clearly the hair spray she’d used before she left her penthouse hadn’t had time to set before she stepped outside. “Damn,” she muttered. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Okay.” Pulling out a mini hair spray of a different brand and the tiniest hairbrush Eleanor had ever seen, Addison scooted closer.

  “You have to lean in a bit, or I might end up on your lap.” Addison chuckled, a nervous sound, but her hands were steady as she angled Eleanor’s head. “Like so. Yes.”

  Addison’s fingers worked quickly as she rearranged the errant tresses, and all Eleanor could do was focus on her breathing. She really wanted to close her eyes, to avoid the visual impression of the beautiful creature sitting so close. She could smell Addison’s perfume, discreet and mixed with something else, something decidedly more innocent. Baby oil? Baby shampoo? The vision of Addison was certainly not innocent. In an attempt to avoid looking straight at her, Eleanor let her glance sweep past Addison’s neck, down to her chest. The plunging décolleté was enough to make her tremble. What the hell was going on? In all her forty-nine years, Eleanor couldn’t remember ever before having this type of physical reaction to another woman.

  Yes, she worked in a business normally dominated by men in dark suits. At her level, women were still not well represented. As she closed her eyes, her mind leaped between different memories of different female friends and colleagues, some of them perhaps even more physically beautiful than Addison. None of the images elicited any reaction whatsoever. Not one. She opened her eyes and found Addison closer than she had been just moments ago. Eleanor tightened her abdominal muscles so as not to lean in closer to inhale more of that sensational mix of scents.

  “There. Much better. I like it when you fix your bangs like this. It shows off your eyebrows, which in turn makes you look even younger.”

  “Even younger?” Eleanor echoed, and her words seemed to color Addison’s cheeks again.

  “Yeah. Well, you look impossibly young, Eleanor. Surely you realize that.”

  “I—I didn’t. Um. Thank you.” Eleanor raised the compact mirror and scrutinized her appearance. Her hair looked bigger and, well, fluffier, than normal, but Addison was correct. She did look rejuvenated. Handing back the mirror, she nodded and glanced out the tinted side window. “We’re almost there.”

  “Good timing then.” Addison smiled broadly, but her grip on her clutch made her knuckles go white.

  Realizing Addison was deeply anxious, in fact she looked ready to bolt, Eleanor placed her hand on top of one of the tight fists. “You’ll be fine,” she said in a low voice, meaning it.

  “Thank you.” Addison turned her hand around and clasped Eleanor’s tightly for a few moments.

  “Here goes, then.” Eleanor watched the door open and their chauffeur extend a hand to her. She gracefully stepped outside with a practiced maneuver. Before the chauffeur could do so, Eleanor turned around and reached for Addison’s hand. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do this, and she knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed as the photographers’ cameras went off as if they were celebrating the Fourth of July.

  “Who’s the girl, Ms. Ashcroft?” several voices called out.

  “That your girlfriend, Eleanor?”

  “Look this way, pretty lady!”

  “Oh, my God.” Addison stood rigid next to Eleanor, holding on tight to her hand. “What the hell are they doing?”

  “Smile.” Eleanor knew she sounded gruff, but it seemed to work. Addison did smile, broadly and blindingly. If the cameras had rattled before, they were now going off in an ear-deafening cacophony.

  “Gorgeous, darling!” some paparazzo close to them yelled. “Closer together. Closer!”

  “Let’s go.” Eleanor moved her hand and placed it at the small of Addison’s back, hoping she would follow without falling on her face. This was baptism by fire, and if she failed this, Addison’s involvement with Face Exquisite might come to an end.

  “Oh! Look. Look! Blush! It’s Blush!” a shrill girl’s voice called out. “I swear it’s her. Blush! I love your vids.”

  Eleanor turned to find the origin of the voice behind the unexpected words. Just behind the band of paparazzi she spotted a group of adolescent girls, maybe high-school juniors or seniors. The two closest girls were jumping up and down while holding hands, calling out, “Blush,” over and over.

  “Holy crap.” Addison gasped at Eleanor’s side, stepping closer to her. “They know me?”

  “You have half a million followers. Don’t tell me you’ve never been recognized in public?”

  “I haven’t. I look different when I’m not all made up. Plain.”

  Eleanor nearly guffawed at that last remark. Plain? Addison? Not likely. “Time for you to step out of your shell then.” She nudged Addison toward the girls. “Go on. Sign some autographs.” This would definitely get the photographers’ attention. Standing back at first, she watched Addison walk toward the girls, broad smile in place but with slig
htly faltering steps. For reasons not quite clear to herself, she took two quick steps forward and once again placed her hand on the small of Addison’s back.

  *

  Addison slowed her steps, feeling dizzy. Facing the photographers and these screaming girls, most of them Stacey’s age, was too much, too soon. Then, that hand. Eleanor’s presence radiating through her hand against her back. She sighed in relief and felt her smile turn genuine.

  “Hi there. You enjoy the YouTube videos?” Addison paid no attention to the paparazzi going nuts around her. She saw the adoration in these girls’ eyes and suddenly they were all Stacey.

  “Oh, yeah. We watch you, all of us. I bought all that Revlon stuff you recommended.” A tall African-American girl held out a small writing pad. “Can I have your autograph?”

  Hesitating, Addison accepted the item and took a deep breath as she signed The Blush Factor across the page, making sure “Blush” was underlined. So far she hadn’t shared her real name on YouTube or any of the other social media.

  It was beyond surreal, but after a few moments, Addison had signed at least twenty autographs, some of them to people she was pretty sure had no idea who Blush was.

  “Time to go.” Eleanor guided her back to the red carpet and they entered the hotel. Inside, their coats magically disappeared into the hands of Eleanor’s assistant Susan. They rode in the elevator with two men and one woman. It seemed odd and perhaps she was imagining it, but it looked like they were careful not to meet Eleanor’s gaze and gave her and Addison a wide berth.

  The room where the cocktail party was being held was enormous. Addison had never seen so many people dressed so well in one place. She was now grateful that she’d remembered she had the Calvin Klein dress. Had she arrived in the Forever 21 dress, she would’ve felt even more out of place. Ridiculous, but true.