“You need to sit down,” Jonathon directs me to a booth in the back of the diner. I feel other people staring at us and I’m grateful to get out of their direct line of vision.
He goes and gets a glass of water from the waitress and comes back to the booth, handing it to me. I gulp half it down and watch the police stride in the front door.
“I’ll have to tell them what happened. Will you be okay, Tess?”
I nod.
“Good. They’ll want to talk with you too.” He continues, “I’ll stall them as long as I can.” He gives me a reassuring smile and walks up over to the cops.
I watch the police handcuff the thief, march him out and place him the back of the police cruiser all from the safety of the booth. I finish the water and wonder when I’ll get my purse back. I find myself calming down and getting better control of myself as the minutes pass. I yawn. I figure my adrenaline is in short supply—all used up in reacting to the danger.
Jonathon turns and gestures for me to join him.
I hurry over to Jonathon and the two police officers. One is making notes on his iPad. He asks my name.
“Heavenly Tess Summerlin.” I also give my address and tell him about my part in stopping the robbery. He asks a few more questions as I give my spiel.
“Good. Well, I’m relieved this went as well as it did. We don’t advocate vigilante actions—they can be dangerous, but I’m glad to get this suspect. He’s been terrorizing the smaller restaurants and businesses in the area for a number of weeks. Okay then, we’ll be calling you both for a more formal statement in the next day or two. Either of you planning to leave the country?”
I shake my head as Jonathon replies in the negative.
“Good.” He nods and they leave.
From my vantage point I can see the man in the back seat of the cruiser. He’s quickly driven away by one of the officers, but not before I register how sad and resigned he looks. I find no pleasure in that. Just relieved no one was hurt.
A large, middle-aged man comes up to us as we are retrieving my purse and Jonathon’s wallet from a table where all the belongings of the customers have been dumped. In a warm tone he says, “Thank you for what you did today. In appreciation for helping us, I want to offer you a reward. It’s the least I can do. You’ve saved my business a lot of headaches.” The man is profuse in his emotions and I blush at the attention.
“No reward necessary. I’m just glad no one was hurt,” Jonathon responds.
“Well then,” the man smiles broadly with gratitude, “please accept my card. Your meal is on me anytime you want.”
Jonathon takes the card with a quick smile and ushers me out of the diner, taking my hand as we walk toward his car. The touch is once more electrifying and I just want to throw myself into his arms. So much has happened I feel unbalanced, needing something I cannot define. I sense a shift in the mood as he helps me into the Porsche. The shared experience has brought us closer together, I think. At least I feel closer to him. Fear can do that.
Getting behind the wheel he turns to me, “Would you prefer to go straight home or would you like to see the apartment?”
“Home, please.” It’s the right choice, I reassure myself, though what I really want to do is go home with Jonathon.
He nods and soon he’s pulling up in front of my building.
“You handled yourself very well today, Tess,” he compliments me, placing the car in park.
“Thanks,” I manage, feeling bereft in a sea of confusion. I just need to hold myself together a few minutes longer, I tell myself, just a few minutes longer…
“I’ll call you later to check on how you’re doing, okay?”
He reaches out a hand and gently tucks a lock of hair back behind my ear. I’m afraid to look at him, at how very much I want to touch him also, but I just nod, right out of words, and blindly try to get out of the car. He scrambles out of his seat and comes around to open the door for me. I dash past him and race for the door. He lets me go unhindered and I’m grateful.
Chapter Six
Safely inside, I hurry up the stairs and struggle with my keys to open the apartment. And then finally I’m alone and I burst into tears. Throwing myself on the single bed in my small bedroom I cry my heart out. I’m not sure if I’m crying more for the events of the robbery or for the crazy choices I’ve made lately.
Finally, I drift off to sleep. I dream that eyes are watching me everywhere I turn. I awake in a sweat. Sitting up, I realize that hours have passed. Someone is moving around in the living room and by the loud off-key singing I know my roommate Sally is home.
Smoothing the cheap chenille bedspread, I put on a brave face and join her in the kitchen. She looks her usual buoyant self. Her shoulder-length hair is pulled up in a perky ponytail with soft tendrils floating around her face. Her blonde hair is pink-streaked tonight and she looks adorable.
“Hey, Sunshine!” she chirps and then catches sight of my hair. “You changed it back!” she accuses me, her eyebrows rising with surprise.
“Yes, well, I don’t think blonde is right for me.” I smooth my hair down. “But it was good to find that out. No hard feelings?”
“Nah, red suits you better. And better for your hair. I’ve got to slow down on all the changes too—my hair’s fried!” she says and the awkward moment passes.
“So I’m cooking up tacos.” She goes back to her cooking. I join her and help tear up the salad greens. As we take our supper to the table, she asks the question I’ve been dreading.
“Do you have a job yet? Because Norma at the salon says she could use a shampoo girl. It doesn’t pay much above minimum wage but you would get lots of hours and tips. What do you think?”
“I already have a job.”
“Oh? Where?”
I decide I can live with telling a version of the truth. “I took a modeling job with an agency.”
“Really! That’s great. Hey, aren’t you a little short for modeling?”
I take a sip of my drink before saying, “They need models for their petite lines as well.”
“Right, that makes sense.” She nods, managing to deftly catch a chunk of taco shell with her fingers before it hits the table.
“This is messy shit to eat,” she says before asking, “Do they pay well? Are they looking for regular taller models do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I stammer. “I don’t think so, at least not at this agency. Maybe each agency specializes in different types of models,” I finish lamely, hoping she doesn’t see how I’m trying to dissuade her from further discussion on the subject.
“Well, let me know if they have an opening for tall blondes that change their hair color frequently,” she jokes and we laugh together.
“I’m going with Sarah and Jane to Shenanigans for drinks. What to come?” she asks as we finish the last of the meal.
“No, I think I’ll stay in tonight and study. I have an exam soon, remember.”
“Cheez, you’re always studying! But after next week you can’t get off the hook that easy. You need to spread those wings, girlfriend, and fly.”
If only you knew. I change the subject by telling her about the events at the diner this afternoon. I’m calmer now so it’s easier to say the words, “Like Icarus, I think I flew too close to the sun today.”
She looks quizzically at me.
I fill her in with all the details.
She reacts with the horror and relief I expected from her. “I’m so glad no one was hurt!” She hugs me.
“There’s something else I need to tell you as well,” I begin, going for broke and knowing this is going to be an even harder conversation. “I think I may be moving out soon. The agency pays their models well and I can afford a place of my own.”
She looks surprised and hurt all at once and I feel terrible.
“Well, that’s a fine fare thee well, then.” She gets up from the table abruptly and starts banging the dinnerware around as she puts it in the sink in pre
paration for washing. I don’t blame her. I’ve loved having her as a roommate and I hate that I’ve sprung it on her so suddenly.
“Nothing’s settled yet, Sally. I won’t leave you in the lurch. I’ll pay my share until you find another roommate. I was just thinking about it.”
“It’s just that I’ll miss you like crazy. We get along so well and it’s hard to find someone compatible.”
I get up and give her a hug, understanding exactly how she feels. Maybe it’s a huge mistake—my moving out. But something stops me from taking back the words.
Her cell phone’s ringing is a reprieve and I start washing the dishes as she answers. I can tell by the change of tone that it’s her boyfriend Mike. They’ve become a heavy item of late and I’m happy for her. She deserves a great guy and Mike looks to be the real deal.
She’s still on the phone when I finish in the kitchen.
Back in my room, I check my phone to see if I’ve missed any messages. There’s one from Jonathon and my heart stills.
Hope you’re feeling better. You were amazing today. When can I see you again?
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s asking me for a date. I call him back.
“Heavenly Tess,” he answers on the first ring.
“Guilty as charged,” I respond flippantly, feeling giddy at the sound of his voice.
“How are you? Feeling better?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Stuffed with tacos prepared by my thoughtful roommate. You?”
“Fine also. Would you like to come over this evening?” Again, he makes it sound like a date.
“Sure, I could do that.”
“I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
I’m feeling buoyed by the call until I see another message from him with an encrypted attachment. My fingers shaking slightly, I open it to see a job that pays one thousand dollars an hour—and that’s after the agency gets its cut—that comes highly recommended by Jonathon.
He writes: This is an easy one, Tess. Just a client that wants a little light dusting done around his house for an hour a day, three times a week. He’s been a client with us for many years but has recently asked for a new girl. You just need to play dress-up. See the photo attached for what he wants as a uniform. You won’t ever have to meet him or speak with him. This is the best job I can offer you.
I take a deep breath and open the attached photo. Whoa! Sexy maid’s costume, buddy! But nothing I haven’t seen at mall stores every Halloween. I do the mental math. Twelve thousand a month. Wow! Just for looking sexy doing pretend housework? You’d think there was a catch.
I swallow hard. Don’t do it, my conscience rises up. Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s a no-brainer, another part of me responds. I type my reply, accepting the job and click “send” before I can have second thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, I put down my cell phone on my night stand. I have just enough time to freshen up before Jonathon arrives.
Chapter Seven
“You look lovely, Tess,” Jonathon smiles with what looks like real delight as I let him in the apartment. Sally has already gone out so I see no harm in having him there. He looks good enough to eat, I think, eyeing his faded jeans and white linen shirt. Nice. The jeans hang off his hips and his open collar reveals a light dusting of golden hair. He’s so charismatic that I feel myself vibrating just looking at him. Why does this man have to be the man that’s out of reach? What possible good is it for me to be around him if I’m going to be fighting myself tooth and nail not to be with him?
I shake my head and he looks inquiringly at me.
“Nothing,” I mutter and pick up my purse. It vividly reminds me of the events of the afternoon and I shake this thought away too. “I’m ready,” I announce.
“You seem preoccupied, Tess,” Jonathon observes as he helps me into the car.
“It’s been quite a day,” I say, giving him a small smile. Keep your cards close to your vest, I remind myself.
He slides behind the wheel.
“Well, let’s hope the evening is less eventful,” he says wryly, steering into a break in traffic.
Twenty small-talk minutes later and we are in the parking garage of Excelsior Place. The high rise houses top end condos with a spectacular view of the city, at least according to the ads I’ve seen on TV.
“Is this your building?” I blurt out, blown completely away by the luxury.
“Yes, and don’t worry, it’s not as expensive as it looks.”
“Yeah, and pigs can fly!” I retort unthinkingly.
He looks at me and then breaks into peals of laughter.
“You know, spending time with you is never boring. I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than just a couple of days.”
“Yeah, well we’ve been through a few things together,” I reply, “but I would go for a case of old-fashioned boredom right now.”
“Just come up and take a look, Tess. The place I’m going to show you is just a small apartment and only costs thirty-five hundred dollars a month. You’ll be able to afford it easily, I promise you.”
My heart sinks. “I will not pay that much for a place to live!” With Gran and her situation, no way will I consider such an outrageous proposition. I have been working so diligently to keep all the costs down on this outrageous venture.
He sighs, looking exasperated by my position, but I’m not budging. I glare out the window, not knowing if the anger is directed more at him or myself.
“Okay, how much would you be willing to pay?” he asks in a reasonable tone after a few silent minutes.
“As little as I can get away with.”
“You said you needed this job. If it’s not for living better, than what is it for?”
“It’s personal,” I retort.
“Okay.” Out of the corner of my eye I see him run his hands through his hair in that already familiar way he has and I know he’s upset.
“How about I see what I can do about the cost? Have it reduced if possible?”
I keep staring belligerently ahead.
“Listen, you need to be safe. This is not a game we’re playing here. Even with all the safety precautions the agency puts in place, sometimes things go wrong. Maybe someone finds out where you live. This building has excellent security. That’s a big part of why I want you here. I can’t have your safety jeopardized by your pigheadedness. If not here, then somewhere equivalent. You pick.”
His words would normally make me react in anger, but the suggestion of living where I want keeps it a bay.
“Okay.” I say the word very quietly. I can’t afford to lose this job and I do need to think of my own safety. He has a valid point. And I would only have to pay for a couple of months anyway. Soon as the auction is over I’m out of here, I promise myself, crossing my fingers hidden under my purse.
“Good.” He looks relieved and jumps out of the car to come around and open my door.
We enter the elevator and stand side-by-side for the trip up. He’s giving off that tantalizing odor of soap and pure man fragrance that alerts something primeval within me. I squirm in my underwear realizing it’s damp from the journey over and our too-close proximity. Get a grip.
The elevator finally deposits us on the top floor.
“I thought I’d show you mine first.”
“Well, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” I wisecrack without thinking and I like the way his eyes heat up with a flash of interest.
“Careful, Tess, a man can only take so much before he throws away the rule book.”
“But then your company wouldn’t get the best price for me,” I counter and am immediately sorry when the desire freezes in his eyes and his lips thin. He doesn’t like being reminded of what’s really at work here. I thought his being the man who was orchestrating things, he would appreciate it.
“How far along is your sister’s pregnancy?”
“She’s seven months, why?”
“Just wondering how long you’ll be running the agen
cy.”
We’ve reached the door to his penthouse and he opens it for me. I precede him inside. Impressive. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the gathering twilight. The room showcases a white baby grand piano elegantly displayed on a dais near the bank of windows. I instantly imagine sitting there, playing one of Mozart’s sonatas. I’m drawn to the piano as if tethered to it. I don’t recall travelling across the room and find I’m standing right in front of it. It’s magnificent.
Jonathon has followed me and gives me a quizzical look, “Do you play, Tess?”
“Yes, it was considered essential at our house. Do you?”
“Not as much as I would like. Would you care to try it?”
“Would I?” He didn’t have to invite me twice.
I sit down. Lightly caressing the keyboard cover, I lift it up and away from the playing area. I lay my hands on the cool keys, close my eyes, and begin to play from memory. The extraordinary resonance of the instrument fills the room with such perfection my body responds with yearning for something more. The music resonates deep inside my belly and I feel its upward flow through me and into the air around us.
“One of Mozart’s sonatas,” he announces as I finish the movement. I dreamily look up at him, still feeling the effects. Music has always connected me to something I cannot put into words.
“Yes, number five in G major.”
The Power of Tess Page 4
