Behind the Blindfold: A Sexy Mystery Duet

by Natalie E. Wrye

  ***

  November 11

  Her spirits are down and I know it. But there are things that need to be taken care of first.

  I need to settle a few things before Saturday and I can focus on our life together. I’ve had to take a little break from her, but it won’t be for long. I’ll definitely make it up to her if she’ll just let me.

  I keep myself motivated by focusing on my end goal. It may not seem like it now, but everything is really going according to plan. I’ve got it figured out.

  When this is over, we’re going to be so happy together.

  ***

  Saturday didn’t see Mark again for the next two weeks, but she did see his “Forgive me” flowers… and letters… and gifts.

  Kara had extracted herself from James’s arms and her job long enough to have a late lunch with Saturday on Wednesday afternoon.

  “So, that’s it?” Kara said. “No more Mark?”

  “I don’t know,” Saturday shrugged sadly. “I just know that I can’t deal with him right now. I need to put things into perspective. I thought I needed time, but I’ve had plenty of that while he was gone. And now I just don’t know what I want.” She sat her head on the table.

  “Well, hand over this last note that you said he sent,” Kara remarked, holding a hand out.

  Saturday passed her Mark’s latest handwritten letter, only one of many he had sent in the past few weeks.

  You said not to call or come by. This is me…not calling or coming by. Please forgive me. Please agree to see me. I want to explain.

  I miss you.

  The card had come with 10 dozen roses outside of Saturday’s door. She woke up two mornings ago to this… explosion of red. They were magnificent. She certainly hoped the neighbors thought so, too. She spent the better part of Monday evening passing out bouquets to any neighbor willing to take one.

  Three mornings before that, Saturday walked into Clairvoyage to find an over-the-top display of another type of flower.

  What other type of flower, you may ask?

  Daisies. 172 of them.

  For every day, since the one that you came into my life.

  When she saw them, she wiped at the tears that started to form at the corners of her eyes. Vicky stopped by where she stood at the time, marveling at the arrangement. Saturday was tempted to tell Vicky all about the Mark saga, especially in the past few months. Cristiano had ceased showing up at the gallery altogether since the “bar incident.” Any fear or awkwardness that she once felt around Vicky had dissipated with his absence.

  In reality… the two of them had actually grown closer. Recently, Saturday finally made the harrowing move of requesting that the gallery feature her artwork… and Vicky accepted.

  Once she showed Vicky some of her paintings, the gentle woman was sold and had become even more of a dutiful mentor and confidant ever since.

  That morning, Vicky’s concern when she saw Saturday’s face was almost palpable, but Saturday wasn’t ready to share that piece of herself yet nor was she prepared to relive some of the best and worst days of her life. Roses are traditional and most certainly beautiful, but to Saturday, the daisies meant so much more…. which made them so much more dangerous.

  She went to the dumpster behind the gallery and dumped in every single bouquet.

  What hurt the most was that she could throw the daisies away all she wanted to, but she couldn’t discard her memory of them. The gesture was too thoughtful; it hit too close to her heart. Saturday couldn’t even find the strength to tell Kara about them.

  She was jolted back to present-time by Kara’s voice. Kara handed the note back to Saturday. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that,” she quipped. “My thoughts? Nix the bastard. Anyone who could leave a hot tamale like you doesn’t deserve you, Daze.” Kara’s phone beeped on the table. She picked it up, looking at the screen.

  She pushed back her chair. “Gotta go, sweets. Fashion ‘emergency.’ Ugh. What would this line do without me?” She opened her purse up, throwing money on the table.

  “Lunch is on me. Listen, before you leave, try the Crème Brulee, order a stiff drink and trash everything that Mark sent you. I guarantee you: it’ll do a world of good. I’ll call you tonight.” Kara gave Saturday a kiss on the cheek and scurried out. Saturday despondently watched her go.

  Great. Can’t keep anyone around these days, can I?

  Honestly, Saturday couldn’t blame Kara for being M.I.A. It was just a hectic time for Kara right now with her job going through multiple mergers, and her falling for a new guy. Saturday had seen Kara in these modes before. Things would eventually die down and the calmer Kara would return. Saturday took Kara’s advice and ordered the dessert.

  As she walked home, she got a call from Kara.

  “Hey, Saturday. On another note, don’t throw out that Tiffany box that Mark sent you. I know you didn’t open the box yet, but it has to be something good. And remember…if you don’t want it, I will happily take it off of your hands. ‘K? ‘K.”

  Saturday chuckled. “Yes, Kara. Bye.” She ended the call.

  Two more minutes of walking, and Saturday’s phone rang again.

  “On second thought,” Kara postulated, “we can put the damn thing on E-Bay. Make some money instead… because who needs a constant reminder of Mark around their wrist or neck all of the time? So, that’s the plan. Sound good?”

  Saturday shook her head at Kara’s scheming. “YES, Kara. Byeeee.” Saturday hung up again, laughing.

  Five minutes later, the phone sounded off… again. Saturday answered it without looking at the screen.

  “Jeez, Kara. Just forget the damn Tiffany’s box!”

  “OH... well… honey, who could blame her? Tiffany’s is pretty fabulous,” said a sophisticated voice on the other end.

  Saturday glanced at her phone screen, dumbfounded. She didn’t recognize the number. There was a woman on the line. A woman she didn’t know.

  “Ummm, I think you have the wrong number, ma’am,” Saturday replied to the voice.

  “I certainly hope not, dear. I’m looking for Miss Saturday Blake.”

  Saturday’s stopped walking at the mention of her name. “This is she,” she responded. “May I ask who is speaking?”

  The woman’s voice pepped up considerably. “Hi, Saturday! Oh, thank goodness. I had hoped that it was you. This is Nancy Rich… Mark’s mother.”

  In mere seconds, all of the color drained from Saturday’s face.

  I think I need that stiff drink now, too.

  The voice kept talking. “I know that this is sudden and undoubtedly unexpected… but I called because… well, I just had to,” she prattled. “Mark’s father and I are renewing our wedding vows and we would absolutely love to have you at our house for the ceremony. We would love to meet you. You seem to mean a lot to my son…”

  Saturday’s eyes widened in surprise, but she kept quiet.

  “…and that means a lot to me. I’d love it if you could join us this weekend. The festivities begin tomorrow and will last through Sunday.”

  The voice stopped, waiting…obviously for an answer from Saturday.

  “Well… I… uh…have to check my schedule because of work…but I will definitely try to come.” Saturday had tried her best to sound earnest in her response.

  “Oh, please do, darling. We can’t wait to meet you. We hope that we’ll have the chance this weekend.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Rich,” Saturday answered. “Of course.”

  “Wonderful. I actually made this call with my cell phone so if you’d like to reach out to me, for any reason, please don’t hesitate to call me at this number.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you so much… for the invitation.”

  “You’re so welcome. Hope to see you soon, dear. Have a good afternoon!”

  “Yes, you too. Goodbye… Mrs. Rich.” The words felt thick coming off of Saturday’s tongue.

  Mrs. Rich. Saturday clenched her fists in frustration. You son of a
bitch.

  She dialed Mark’s phone number with shaky fingers. She had blocked Mark’s number again, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know it by heart. He picked up after the first ring.

  “Really low of you to use your mother to get to me,” Saturday snarled.

  “I’m sorry… what?” Mark replied, perplexed.

  “Your mother. Having her reach out to me. You’ve sunk to new depths with this.”

  “Wait, wait, Saturday. I haven’t had my mother do anything. Hold on… did you speak to her?

  Now, it was Saturday’s turn to be confused. She hesitated before continuing.

  “Yes. I did,” Saturday answered. “She invited me to her vow renewals with your father.”

  “Saturday… shit…” Saturday heard rustling on the other end. “I didn’t have her do that. I don’t know how she got your number… but I have to say that I’m glad she did.” He paused for a lull.

  “Come with me,” he said. “I don’t have a date for the ceremony. Be my date, Saturday… please.”

  For the first time since she met Mark, she could hear pleading in his voice. Despite her better judgment, her stomach did tumbles upon hearing the yearning in his tone.

  She didn’t know what to do. And it was clear that Mark had no intention of going away any time soon. And as much as she hated to admit it… she had missed him.

  Furthermore, Thursday was Thanksgiving. She had already told her parents that she would accept a ticket back home to Washington to spend it with them. Not that she was dying to spend another potentially awkward holiday around her mom and dad, but…

  “I’ll think about it,” Saturday blurted abruptly. “Please don’t call me. I’ll call you when I decide.” She hung up, suddenly needing the distance. It was dark outside so Saturday caught a cab for the rest of her trip home. She changed into her Greenhouse uniform and rushed out. Saturday made it to the restaurant in time for her evening shift as bartender, but she might as well had not gone. She couldn’t remember a thing from the entire shift. She floated through the motions like a zombie until it was time to go home.

  At 3:30 AM, Saturday lay on her bed, finally, thinking of daisies. She picked up the phone and dialed.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to manage getting out of work,” she said into the phone.

  “Don’t worry,” Mark responded sleepily. “We’ll come up with something.”

  Chapter Eight

  All that glitters “is” gold

  Early Thursday afternoon, Saturday stood on the curb outside of her apartment, awaiting Mark’s arrival.

  She told herself that she could easily handle being in the close quarters of a car with Mark again just for a few hours. But when he pulled up with his black leather jacket on and a small smile on his face, she clammed up immediately, putting her earphones in and staring out of her window as soon as they hit the highway. Mark didn’t push her to talk, keeping his eyes on the road.

  Her duffel bag in the trunk, she sat silently in the passenger seat of Mark’s black Range Rover as they made their way to Mark’s parents’ Connecticut home.

  When they arrived at his parents’ driveway, Saturday’s eyebrows shot skyward. This wasn’t just a home; this was a waterfront ESTATE. They circled the roundabout in front of the grand house before parking in its multi-car garage. They hadn’t made it to the door before they were face-to-face with a very blonde and attractive, older couple. The woman stood at Saturday’s height in an outfit of pale peaches and pinks next to a man decked out in navy and deep grey. Before she could speak, Saturday was being pulled into the blonde woman’s arms.

  Ahhhh, Mrs. Rich, of course. We meet at last.

  Mrs. Rich cooed over Saturday, complimenting, welcoming and thanking her all in the same breath. Saturday was finally extricated from Mrs. Rich’s warm embrace when Mr. Rich stepped forward.

  “Now that you have some space to breathe,” he said, winking at his wife. “Let me introduce myself to you, Saturday. I’m Christopher, Mark’s father.” He gave Saturday a hearty handshake. Saturday shook his hand with enthusiasm and stepped back. Mark was right; they were warm and loving. She was already a fan.

  When they entered the home, Saturday nearly tripped over her own feet. If she thought the outside was striking, she was clearly mistaken. The front foyer had marble floors and two winding staircases that sat beneath a beautiful gold chandelier. Grandiose did not begin to describe the magnificence of their house. Saturday’s father was a doctor; her family was by no means hurting for money, but this? THIS was exquisite.

  The Rich family name lives on in more ways than one.

  It was only when Saturday and Mark’s bags were taken by attendants that Saturday got a true look at their surroundings. The house was beautiful and large…and quite chaotic. There were guests going in and out of rooms and attendants carrying large trays and chairs.

  Mark leaned in, his breath on Saturday’s ear. “Everything’s being prepared for the ceremony on Sunday. In addition to that, we’ve probably got every family member and friend that we could fit in here.” Saturday nodded, their reason for coming actually hitting her for the first time since they arrived.

  As Mark took a step back, Saturday caught sight of someone walking towards them from one of the side rooms. He was Mark’s height with sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. And when he smiled, Saturday swore the room got a little brighter.

  “So, this is where all of the action is. And I see we have a new guest to the house.”

  He kissed Mrs. Rich’s cheek and shook Mr. Rich’s hand before reaching out to hold Saturday’s. When Saturday extended her hand, Mark extended his in front of hers, grabbing the hand of the man before he could even touch Saturday.

  The man smirked at Mark. “So, this must be Saturday.” He beamed at Saturday. “Hi, Saturday. I’m Jonathan, Mark’s better looking cousin.”

  Saturday chuckled at his introduction. “Well, hello there, Jonathan. Nice to meet you.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine. It’s going to be a great weekend, Saturday. I’m glad that you’re here to join us. It’s a big house, and there’s a lot going on so if you need help navigating your way around, I can be your tour guide.”

  “She’s fine,” Mark barked before giving Jonathan a light shove. Well, a shove that started out light before almost sending Jonathan halfway across the room.

  “Okaaay, boys, “ Mrs. Rich cautioned. “Play nice.” She shooed Jonathan away, who then made his exit after giving Saturday a quick bow at the waist.

  Mrs. Rich turned towards them with open arms.

  “Well, darlings, we are having dinner in about an hour and a half now. Six o’clock. I hope that works for you. If you’re available, I’ll have someone come to your rooms to retrieve you around that time. I’m having the bags sent to your rooms and then you can both head there and freshen up. Mark…please show Saturday to her room. Hope you’re hungry. I’ll see you both shortly in the dining room.”

  At that, Mrs. Rich turned away, taking the arm of Mr. Rich and walking in the direction of the kitchen.

  Now that Saturday and Mark were alone, the former awkwardness had returned. Mark reached out, almost as if to place a hand on the small of her back before retracting the gesture. He motioned toward the stairs, allowing Saturday to head up first with him trailing a few steps behind.

  He gestured to the far end of the hall, directing Saturday to the door of an elegant room decorated in rich rustic beige and cream.

  “Your bag will be here shortly,” he said, before turning away to head back down the hallway.

  Saturday was tempted to watch him leave, but decided against it. She walked into the room, flopping backwards onto the bed.

  Oh, boy. What have I gotten myself into?

  Meeting Mark’s parents was actually great, and she was sure that she wouldn’t mind a weekend of luxury in this mini-mansion the Riches called home, but still. Would she have to field questions about her and Mark? Would things get awkward? She and Mark
barely knew how to approach each other as it was. How could she be his date if she couldn’t even be fully comfortable around him at the moment?

  Shower. That’s what you need. Nice. Long. And hot.

  Mmm, thoughts like that were leading her to thoughts about Mark. Saturday figured it was best to re-route her attention elsewhere. She shed her clothes hoping to also shed her reflections about Mark’s long, hot… well, everything.

  When Saturday stepped into the shower, she moaned from the heat of the steam and the softness of the water. She could finally understand what her ex-roommate Kristen felt in the bath that night. Saturday washed her hair, lathered her body and came out of the bathroom feeling cleaner in more ways than one. The bedside drawer had a clean, fluffy bathrobe on it, and Saturday placed the robe on her body before reaching for her newly delivered bag.

  She rummaged through the bag, grabbing an outfit and some make-up for tonight’s dinner. After sitting those on the bed, she meandered around the large room, inspecting its contents. Beautiful drawers and tables flanked the outskirts of the room with an impossibly soft-looking armchair in the far left corner.

  Saturday’s bare feet traversed the length of the room as she strolled, touching things with her fingertips until she reached what looked to be a closet. She walked into the closet, finding herself staring into the toned backside of Mark’s bare figure.

  He half-turned, his front still concealed as he held a towel in his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Saturday blurted, almost running out before Mark’s voice stopped her.

  “Wait!” he requested laughingly. “Saturday, it’s ok. The rooms are adjacent to each other: joined. I should have told you before.” He wrapped the towel around his waist. Mark’s hair and torso were still damp, droplets of water still running down the trenches of his abs.