by Cat Shinier
“Something is missing.”
Oops, I think. “What do you mean? What did I forget?” I cannot think of what I could have forgotten.
“I have everything that you could need right here, Miss Buchholz.” He grins at me boyishly and pulls a little velvet box from his pocket. It has a miniscule, ornate ribbon on it, and it almost looks too beautiful to unwrap.
“Is that for me?” I ask incredulously, and unnecessarily. Who else would the gift be for other than me, but I’m just so surprised. I was not expecting this. Not at all.
He smiles, baring a mouth full of immaculately white teeth. “Of course, darling. I hope you like it.”
I take the little package and start fiddling with the ribbon, and finally get the little box to open. Wow. There are a pair of ear-rings shaped like blossoms. Each blossom is encrusted with diamonds, and the center of each blossom holds a sapphire. They glitter and gleam. I’m shocked. They must have been really expensive. I don’t think I’ve ever had jewelry this expensive in my whole life.
“Oh no, Shamar. That’s crazy. They’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen earrings as beautiful as these in my life. Could you help me put them on?”
“I’m so glad you like them,” Shamar whispers into my ear. I can feel his warm breath on my ear, and it sends ripples down my back. He takes the earrings out of the box and hands them to me. I clip them on carefully, and walk over to the mirror to look at myself. They are so big that they completely cover my ear lobes. They glitter and gleam and look just stunning.
“Oh, they are just so beautiful, Shamar. But I can’t accept an expensive gift like this. I’ll probably keep touching my ears to check that they are still there.”
Shamar remains unflustered. “Darling, the earrings are yours, whether you want them or not. And secondly, you will probably forget them the second you put them on.”
He kisses the back of my neck and follows up the kiss with a gentle touch. I close my eyes and let my head drop towards his shoulder. Then I turn around and kiss him.
“Thank you for the gift. It is the most beautiful gift I have ever received.”
“My pleasure. Come on, let’s have some fun this evening.” His hand is on my hip while we leave the house and get into the Mercedes. Kieran drives us downtown – the skyline impressively lights up against the night sky.
I just let go and enjoy being in the moment. The landscape glides by noiselessly outside as we move toward downtown Houston through the evening traffic. About 45 minutes later we stop in front of a brightly lit complex. A large crowd has gathered there, and I see lots of limousines and very elegantly dressed guests getting out of them. Camera flashes keep flickering like lightning during a storm, briefly illuminating the people.
Why on earth didn’t I ask Shamar what I was getting into here, I think to myself. Our car lines up with the other cars.
“Shamar, is that where we are going? Do we get out here?” The crowd of people and all the flashing lights are making me nervous as hell. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
Shamar nods.
“What is this? I never expected that there would be so many people.” My hands get all clammy and sweaty and my throat constricts. I can’t swallow. I keep trying, but I just can’t.
“Don’t worry, honey. We’ll be getting out in a sec. Just don’t look at anybody straight in the face, then the camera flashes won’t bother you. If you feel safe, look around. Otherwise, I’m right there with you. I’m sorry that I did not forewarn you, but public scrutiny is something that I have gotten used to.”
That’s it. There is no more time for me to get used to it. Kieran stops in front of the entrance and one of the guards opens the door. For a moment things are quiet. Shamar exits first, and the first cameras start to flash. His facial expression is as blank as a mask. And he looks like a Greek God. He has a complete handle on the situation and is perfectly composed and calm. He reaches for my hand while I climb out of the car, squeezing my knees together and trying to look like Diana getting out of a limo. I look up at Shamar and smile.
He’s right. The camera flashes which light up the whole area as bright as a soccer field don’t blind my eyes if I don’t look in the direction of the photographers. Our eyes meet for just one brief second, but that second feels like an eternity and makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt before.
We are very close and moving in step. His hand is on my hip, signaling that we are a pair. His claim of ownership is apparent for everyone to see. As we move, questions are flung at me. Who I am, where we met. I don’t react. I just keep walking. Shamar strides towards the entrance and lets the photographers wait.
There is a lot of commotion inside. Servants and butlers and waitresses run around through the people who are standing in line. There is a place to hang your coats, but people don’t seem to be making use of it. The woman sitting there is watching the crowd while all sorts of people greet Shamar. He introduces me to everyone, and it feels like thousands of people. No way can I remember the names or the faces, let alone match name and face up. At some point, we reach a huge banquet hall. There are rows and rows of tables that have been set.
There is a stage in front of us. Shamar and I are shown to our seats, where we have a full view of the stage. We’ve been seated with six other people, all of them work for the oil industry, which becomes apparent as a discussion ensues almost immediately about Shamar’s upcoming purchase of an extraction area.
The jewelry of the wives at the table glitter like a Christmas tree, and judging from the conversation, they seem to know each other. Alas, I’m excluded. But that doesn’t matter. I’m having a good time just sitting there and observing things, because the people who have assembled here tonight to dedicate themselves to promoting a prestigious social project is completely engrossing.
Gorgeous dresses parade by me and the jewelry the women are wearing could probably buy a medium-sized home where I come from. That thought reminds me of Susan, who is probably fast asleep and recuperating from her tests. I say a fervent little prayer for her and hope everything has gone well. I won’t be able to call her before tomorrow. But that’s fine. She’ll be able to tell me how everything went.
And suddenly the room goes quiet, and the stage is lit. A man appears and gives a short speech, describing what will be happening during the course of the evening. The program is varied. A comedian, acrobats and a magician. And the plan is to serve dinner during these acts. The master of ceremonies greets a number of people from the stage, including Shamar. And then he announces the first artist, which seems to be the signal for the waiters to appear in droves to serve the meal.
They look like acrobats themselves as they balance huge plates among the tables and chairs, without making a sound. The first course that is served is a shrimp cocktail with garlic bread. The sauce is beautiful, very different and sweet. It goes well with the garlic bread. While we eat, Shamar keeps giving me various pieces of information, which he whispers into my ear. He explains about the artists or the people in the audience, even the people we are sitting with. He has lots of anecdotes, and some of them are really funny. They make me laugh more than the comedian on stage sometimes.
After the shrimp cocktail, we are served an unusually fruity and creamy tomato soup that must have some secret ingredient. The women and men around us keep glaring at us, I can’t really understand why. Maybe they don’t think Shamar and I should be talking with each other, but Shamar does not seem to care. So I don’t either.
Then a group of lightly clad female dancers and acrobats come on stage to perform. The men at our table are mesmerized and seem completely focused on these skimpily clad ladies. Some of the men even stop eating altogether, which in turn displeases their wives. You can travel all over the world to see all sorts of performances, but some things never change. I’m amused by my own insight and smile.
“What’s up, darling?” Shamar is observing me.
“Oh, nothing,” I answer lightly. “I only real
ized that some things never change, no matter where you are.”
He glances around and notices what I mean. “That won’t happen to you with me, darling, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Well, if that isn’t balm for my soul. I’m on cloud nine, and he grabs my hand and squeezes it.
The main course is served, and it really is a dream. Steak and truffles, with a side dish of trout roe, carrot and coconut curry, creamed potato mousse, accompanied by a new Californian white wine that is crisp and delicious. It is sparkly and actually reminds me of champagne. Delicious. I can hardly manage the desert, but seeing the cake is so daintily arranged – quadruple chocolate mint pie, laced with vanilla icing – I cannot resist.
The rest of the dinner flies by. We watch the shows on stage. The desert and coffee have been cleared, when the MC steps out on stage again and announces that the band will be playing live, complete with dancers on stage. And they are really good. I keep moving to their beat, which amuses Shamar.
“Would you like to dance, Luna?” Shamar looks at me expectantly. I love to dance, but I have not really had the opportunity so far to learn standard dances, so I hesitate. But then the urge to see what it is like to dance with Shamar is overpowering, and I agree.
“I’d love to,” I say, and immediately he gets up and pulls me up to himself. We are the first couple on the dance floor, and I’m aware of the fact that hundreds of pairs of eyes are watching us. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed, I think to myself, because all of a sudden I’m afraid of tripping over my own feet and making a fool of myself.
But my fears are unfounded, and I should have known Shamar is a fantastic dancer. As if he’d done nothing but dance all his life. He leads me to the sounds of the music, and it is clear that he is very musical and rhythmical, so that I relax after a few steps and can really enjoy dancing with him. It is fun moving over the dance floor with him, where we are now surrounded by lots of other dancers. I don't really notice any of the dancers around us and my world is reduced to Shamar and myself. Shamar’s eyes return to that shade of black mother-of-pearl I adore so much.
“You are my emerald-eyed angel. You are the most beautiful woman in the room,” he says quietly and wistfully, and I can hear the hidden passion.
We look at each other, and the world around us is no longer something I perceive. We dance as if we were alone and not amidst a group of wealthy people willing to fork over huge charitable donations.
“I’m so looking forward to being alone with you again. There are too many people here I have to share you with,” Shamar says, once again lowering his voice. But at any rate no one could hear him, even if they wanted to because the music is excluding all other noise.
“I’m surprised that you have not uttered that wish before this evening. I would have no problem exchanging this room with our bedroom,” I answer.
He gives me one of his dazzling smiles.
“Ms. Buchholz, you are a really perceptive and extremely intelligent woman. Why don’t we head home after this dance?”
“Aren’t you going to make a donation?” I’m surprised.
“No, I took care of that already long ago,” he answers in an amused voice.
“How did you do that?”
“Well, when they wrote and sent the invitation, I sent my donation with the menu selection. And that is why we can leave whenever we want to,” he chuckles. “Well, then sir, how about we get going right now?” I say and laugh. The other pairs circle us, dancing. Shamar whips out his cell phone and tells Kieran to drive up to the door. We go back to our table and say goodbye. On our way out Shamar notices a few people he knows and exchanges a few words them. The guard outside nods in our direction and informs Shamar that our car is waiting for us. That’s really smart, I think to myself, because paparazzi are still hovering around and if it takes too long for our car to drive up, trying to find our way through all of those flashing lights will take forever.
Shamar looks at me questioningly. “Ready for the mob?”
I look at him and say, “Yes, sure, let’s go.”
The guard opens the door, and the lights go off again, like little explosions. The constant clicking is horrific, but I remember not to look at anyone. I focus on the car waiting for us. Shamar leads me to the car, suave as always, and Kieran opens the door for us to get in. The door closes, and immediately the outside world is shut out and the world inside is peaceful and quiet.
Kieran runs around to the front, gets in and we leave while Shamar puts his arm around me.
At this time of night, the traffic has really died down, compared to when we drove here, and in no time we have reached Shamar’s house. Matthew is up waiting for us to open the door for us. Shamar heads to the kitchen to get something to drink from the refrigerator. Turns out it is a bottle of Moet & Chandon Rosé Imperial. As usual, in this household, the glasses are already on the table and waiting for us. Waterford crystal.
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“Your presence” he answers somberly.
I laugh and then Shamar laughs, too. When we reach the bedroom, we open the bottle of champagne. It hisses quietly. It’s pink and bubbles vivaciously in our glasses.
“To us, sweetheart.”
“To us, darling.”
The champagne is delicious. The meal was pretty salty, and so I’m thirsty and drink my champagne quite fast. We settle down on the bed. Shamar is sitting at the head of the bed, and I lean against him with my back. All the lights in the room have been dimmed except for a small lamp. I close my eyes and enjoy his closeness. The warmth of his skin penetrates the thin material of my dress. It is such a beautiful moment that I fall right asleep and don’t even notice that Shamar has taken off my dress and covered me.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning I’m awakened by Shamar’s showering. The room is bright, the shutters have been opened, and the sun is shining in. Looks like it is going to another scorcher today. Shamar returns to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, walks over to me and gently kisses me. He looks so hot that I’d love to snatch that towel away from him. I ogle him while he dresses. I watch him put on a shirt and pants.
“So would you like to drive over and see my horses?” he asks, while he shrugs on his jacket.
“Horses?” I ask. I didn’t know he had horses here. “Does that mean we can go horseback riding together again?”
He blinks. “Absolutely. I’d love to.” He smiles. “But you have to wait, because I have to go to the office, as there’s a meeting I cannot postpone. But I’ll be back after lunch and then we can drive over there together.”
I beam. I’m already looking forward to our outing. “If you could wait just a moment, I’ll wash up real fast and join you for breakfast.”
So while Shamar heads downstairs for breakfast, I get washed, dressed and ready in a record-breaking ten minutes, head downstairs and have a nice leisurely breakfast with Shamar. After that Kieran drives him to his office.
I head back to the bedroom to complete getting ready. And since it will take hours for Shamar to return, I decide to inspect the property. I don’t meet up with anyone while I head downstairs.
A few noises are coming from the kitchen, where Annie is probably busy at work preparing the next meal. Since I don’t intend to leave the estate, I don’t leave a message or tell anyone where I am going. I head out the door and head up the drive, which surrounds the house.
I reach the back of the house and find a huge garage. The door is open. There’s a Porsche Cayenne and a dark blue Audi Q3 in the garage. The Mercedes is missing, but probably because Kieran’s driven Shamar to work in it. Behind the garage, I see bushes that have been pruned and shaped beautifully. A real landscape artist has been at work here. I suspect I have almost reached the pool, the one that we swam in yesterday.
So I continue along the bushes, which go on for quite a while, until I reach a lawn. The lawn is bright green, well cared for – almost manicur
ed - and I can hear the sound of tiny sprinklers watering the lawn. The lot is huge, and it really takes me quite a while until I have walked around and inspected everything. There is a big fence at the back of the property, but it is hard to see because it is covered with trees that are not pruned, and thus quite thick. The lush green of the lawn and the bright blue of the sky are quite a contrast. I’ll have to come back here with my camera to take some pictures for Susan, as I know she’d love seeing what this place looks like. And although it is quite hot outside I enjoy being outside and relishing the silence. There’s nothing to be heard except birds singing and the tinkly little noise the sprinklers are making. As I head back, I get a good look at the house from behind. From where I’m standing I cannot see the pool, only the first floor of the house.
From in front the house looks big and impressive, but not until you stand behind the house can you notice how much has been added and integrated over the course of the years. The house looks like it was built in several layers, yet still all the parts complement each other and look quite harmonious. When I peek into the garage again to check and see if Shamar is back I see that the Mercedes is there again. So they are back, and I run around the house to the entrance.
I don’t have a key, so I just ring the doorbell, and the door is opened almost immediately. I look into Matthew’s and Annie’s faces, and they appear very worried. Behind them I see Shamar, who also seems to be nervous.
“Did something happen?” I ask.
Matthew and Annie leave right away, and Shamar walks towards me. He looks very strained. He puts his arms around me and holds me tight. It feels like he is never going to let go of me again.
“You were gone and I did not know where you were. We looked all over for you and even tried to call you on your cell phone, but then we realized you hadn’t taken it along.”
