I should have had the patience to coax my body into completion, but the events in my past were too monumental to overcome. There was no use. No hope.
My muscles succumbed to fatigue from holding me up and I fell back onto the bottom of the tub with a pitiful splash.
I would never be able to come because I was repulsive. Repulsive and Ugly. And dirty. The nasty words slithered around in my brain. I would never forget them. I would never forget him. I would never forget the laughing. The laughter and the words fought for space in my head, winning over everything else.
Though my hands were trembling and my legs shaking, I managed to flick off the faucet. With a bitter cry of frustration, my soaking wet head fell back against the rim of the tub.
My release wouldn’t come today.
Chapter Five
I spent the entire day working on my painting of the little blonde girl from the lobby. I envied her for seeing the world as she did with fresh eyes. I wanted the painting to symbolize that bright-eyed innocence of youth. She would be delicate and lovely and the light would hit her just right. With all my heart, I wished the image on my canvas would match the one in my head.
First, I sketched her face to get an idea of exactly how I would capture her. Pencil didn’t do justice to her little cherub face and I was actually excited when it came time to choose my colorful paints. I squeezed paint on a palette, selected a brush and went to work.
Her hair would be golden, the color of daffodils in spring. A fringe of black lashes would fan over those cornflower blue eyes and she’d have pinchable peachy flushed cheeks.
From the moment I first dipped my brush onto my palette until I finished my first application, I was excited to see how she would turn out. With each dab and stroke, I could feel her purity leap off the canvas and fill my soul with happiness.
There would be no debating the painting’s symbolism. No doubts about meaning or hidden mermaids. There was no question about it. She was pure light.
After countless hours, I set my brush down for the day and took a break from Princess. There wasn’t much more I could do until the first application dried. I cleaned my brushes, scrubbed the paint from my hands and fingernails and went into the kitchen for a drink of water. I chugged down half the bottle and it hit me how tired I was. I rotated my neck to ease some of the tension and eyed the room service menu.
When I plopped down on my couch, I noticed I had two new messages. The first one was from my father to tell me he had a wonderful time at the dinner and was glad I came and brought Dillon. I smiled and made a mental note to call him in the morning.
The second message was from Cornelia Davenport.
“It was so lovely to see you and your friend Dillon last night,” her sticky sweet voice purred out from my machine. “I look forward to seeing you at the Cocktails and Cars event next Friday. It starts at seven. Also, there will be a silent auction with all proceeds going to our childhood cancers charity. So bring your checkbook!”
I leaned my head back on the cushion and sighed. It would be difficult, but I knew then that my Princess wouldn’t be staying with me for long.
I vaguely remembered Cornelia mentioning the event at the charity dinner, but everything from the night before was somewhat of a blur, thanks to Dillon’s pheromones. I was glad Cornelia called and reminded me because I’d tossed the invitation aside as soon as it came in the mail weeks ago.
After some digging, I found it under a pile of fashion magazines and art books. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I stared at the invitation.
Cocktails and Cars for a Cure
Please join us for a night of exotic cars and fine wine and spirits
Featuring a silent auction to benefit children with leukemia.
I nibbled on my bottom lip and thought about it. If Princess was ready to make an appearance into the world by next Friday, then I just might feel up to it too.
Each time I called Dillon, it got a little easier. The first time I called, it was for my father and the second time was for me.
He answered his phone on the third ring and I felt a jolt at hearing his voice again.
“Hi, Dillon. It’s Olivia.”
“Hey! How are you?”
He actually sounded happy to hear from me.
“Good. Great, actually. Hey, I know its last minute, but I wondered if you were up for another charity event.” What was I doing asking if he was “up” for it? I wiped my sweaty palm on my pants.
“Definitely,” he said and I smiled into the phone.
No matter how many times I’d spoken to Cornelia Davenport, I was still a nervous wreck doing it on the phone. But I did it anyway. For Princess. And for children everywhere who were fighting for their lives, battling against a disease with no cure.
“Olivia! Thanks so much for calling. The charity dinner was fabulous, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I think everyone enjoyed themselves. Listen, Cornelia, I’d like to donate a painting for the auction on Friday.”
Even though I’d already made the decision, I still cringed at the thought of my art going out into the harsh world. But I knew without a doubt it was the right decision.
“That’s marvelous!” Cornelia squealed.
“And I also…I also wanted to RSVP for the car show event,” I said, laying all my cards out on the table. This was Vegas, baby. Go big or go home.
“Oh, this is such good news. Howard and I look forward to seeing you. Will you be bringing Dillon along?” she asked hopefully.
I couldn’t help but grin. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am. It turns out he’s free on Friday after all.”
“Splendid.”
“Great, I’ll have the painting sent over when it’s finished.”
Chapter Six
On Friday afternoon, Michelle stocked fresh towels in my bathroom while I perched on the edge of the tub. Princess was finished and had already been delivered to Cornelia and I had a few hours before I needed to start getting ready for my next huge embarrassing failure.
“So how was the charity ball?” Michelle asked.
The fact that Michelle called the dinner a “ball” had me thinking of Cinderella.
“It was nice,” I told her. “My father told me the dinner raised over two hundred thousand dollars for the foundation.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “That’s wonderful.”
I could tell she was debating whether or not to ask me if I’d used the website, so I decided to throw her a bone. “Thanks for your help with…everything. I ended up going with a friend.”
The lie didn’t come easy, but I couldn’t hand that kind of juicy information over to her to use at her own discretion.
“Well that’s good. Did you have fun?”
I thought back to the dinner and the dancing and smiled. “We did.”
“I’m glad.”
“Well,” I said, getting up from the tub. “I’d better get back to painting while the vision is still fresh in my mind,” I said tapping my temple.
There was no painting, but Michelle didn’t know that. There was the small matter of deciding what to wear to the Davenport event, though.
Silently, I wished Michelle would hurry up so she didn’t run into Dillon in the elevator. One look at him and she would know my dirty little secret for sure.
“You must find a lot of inspiration from the city,” Michelle said thoughtfully.
“Yeah,” I answered somberly, resting my head against the doorjamb. “There’s a lot going on down there.”
In fact, I’d never painted Las Vegas in all the time I’d lived here. There was no shortage of subject matter and a plethora of colors, but I’d never once captured any of it on canvas. Maybe it was time I did.
But first, I had to get ready for Dillon.
At precisely 6:30, Dillon arrived and I waved him inside the suite. He was wearing an exquisite suit, shiny shoes and an ultramarine blue tie that matched his eyes. It was incredible how he always showed up wearing exactly w
hat he needed to be. Then again, at his rate of three hundred bucks an hour, I guess he’d show up on my doorstep wearing a Superman costume if I wanted him to.
As for me, I had chosen a classic little black dress and Dillon noticed it right away.
“Great dress, Livi.” He pulled me in for a quick hug and then held me at arm’s length to look me over. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I still wasn’t used to receiving so many compliments, but Dillon really seemed to enjoy doling them out. I scrunched up my nose and gnawed at the inside of my cheek. “I’m kind of having second thoughts about this whole thing.”
“Why?” he asked, concern replacing the excitement on his face.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I started pacing the floor. “It seemed like a good idea at the time because we had so much fun the other night.”
He took my hand to keep me from pacing and warm bolts of electricity shimmied up my arm. “What’s wrong, Livi?”
I blew out a nervous breath, but didn’t tell him about Princess. “I don’t even have to go to this thing tonight. My father isn’t even going to be there. It’s just for the Davenport’s stupid charity.”
He brought my hand to his lips and lightly kissed my knuckles. How was it that he could turn the simplest things into pure eroticism?
“Tell ya what,” he said rubbing his thumb over where he’d just kissed my hand. “Let’s go and mingle for a little bit and then duck out and go to a club or something.”
Panic swirled through my belly and the tender kiss was forgotten. “Oh, God, Dillon. I can’t go to a club.” Just the thought of that many people crammed into one small space sent my anxiety into a tailspin. “The first part sounds good, though.”
“Okay. We’ll go and make an appearance at Mr. and Mrs. D’s, then come back here.”
I took a deep breath. “All right.” I could do that.
“So, what kind of shindig are we going to anyway?”
I handed Dillon the invitation along with his envelope and sat down to put my shoes on. “I promise I won’t drag you to anymore charity events after tonight.”
“That’s all right.” He pocketed the envelope and read over the invitation. “This thing sounds kinda cool. Fast cars, free booze.”
“Just be careful you don’t let Mr. D talk you into buying some fancy race car.”
Inside the limousine, I tried to relax. Somehow, I’d talked myself into another stressful situation. That was two in the last two weeks. It must have been a full moon or a solar solstice or something. Or maybe I was even more out of my mind than I originally thought.
Dillon scooted close to me on the seat and I could feel his thigh touching mine. Warmth leapt from his body and through my thin dress.
“Do you wanna make out on the way there?” he asked, his voice low and sexy.
“No!” I squeaked.
His grin was contagious and I elbowed him.
“Have you ever made out in a limo before?” I asked, immediately regretting the stupid question.
“Sure,” he shrugged. “Lots of times.”
Then it dawned on me that he’d probably done a lot more than kiss in a limo. I tried to imagine myself as the type of woman who could have sex in a car. I couldn’t.
He eyed me and then winked. “You haven’t lived until you’ve made out in a moving vehicle.”
Davenport Imports of Las Vegas had literally rolled out the red carpet for the Cocktails and Cars for a Cure event. The atmosphere was more in keeping with a Hollywood film premiere than a charity event.
The front of the dealership was floor to ceiling gleaming windows and through them, the bright lights of the showroom illuminated the shiny colorful cars.
Female models as exotic and beautiful as the cars themselves circulated with trays of sparkling champagne. The skinny models had sleek hair and short clingy dresses. The supercars were extraordinary and exorbitantly expensive.
Howard Davenport greeted us warmly at the door and even remembered Dillon from the charity dinner the week before.
Once inside, Dillon and I perused the massive showroom. It was laid out in museum fashion with interactive touch screens to learn more about the cars. There were over forty cars on display in the veritable shrine to high-end luxury vehicles.
As an artist, I could appreciate the sleek lines, mechanical engineering and sexy aesthetic designs, but cars weren’t really my thing. Dillon, on the other hand, was like a kid in a candy store.
I couldn’t necessarily blame him. The cars did have the ability to notch up your heart rate without even starting the engine. They had the power to make you feel the wind in your hair and feel the rumble of the finely tuned engine just by looking at them. It was a strangely erotic experience and I was glad to be sharing it with Dillon.
We saw a yellow Lamborghini Murcielago with its upswing scissor doors. A Lamborghini Reventon painted an eerie flat black. It looked like a cross between a stealth bomber jet and a concept car from the future. Of course, there was a sexy classic red Ferrari 458. A Porsche 911 GT3, an Audi R8, an Aston Martin Vantage v12 and a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren.
There were so many makes, models and numbers I didn’t know how car enthusiasts kept them all straight.
There were also cars I’d never even heard of like a Bugatti Veyron, a Pagani Zonda and something called a Koenigsegg.
Howard caught up to us as Dillon and I stood admiring the silver Koenigsegg.
“This is the Koenigsegg CCX,” he said.
I stifled a giggle and Dillon looked at me with a frown. “What’s so funny?”
“It sounded like you said Conan’s Egg,” I said to Howard.
“It is an unusual name. It’s Swedish for ‘knife’s edge’.”
“It’s incredible.” Dillon sighed.
Howard agreed. “CCX stands for Competition Coupe X. It has a supercharged V8 engine and can reach from zero-60 in 3.2 seconds. This baby has a top speed of 245 mph.”
Dillon whistled and I silently wondered why anyone would ever have the need to go that fast.
Howard opened the driver’s side door. It opened in the same sort of scissor-like way a Lamborghini’s doors opened, but not really the same at all. The doors rotated vertically in a unique way I‘d never seen before. This thing really was as much a piece of art as it was a car.
“It has dihedral synchro-helix actuation doors,” Howard explained. “It’s just a fancy way of saying the doors pull out, then up.”
“Very cool,” Dillon purred.
“Would you like to get behind the wheel?”
Dillon’s face lit up like a child being given a balloon and cotton candy at the county fair. “Sure.”
I looked around and didn’t see any of the other guests being allowed to sit in the cars, or even touch them for that matter. It must have been Dillon’s charm. Either that or my father had instructed Howard to dote on my “boyfriend” and me.
After Howard opened the equally incredible and extraordinary passenger door, I slid into the belly of the beast to join Dillon. Inside, it smelled like a million dollars wrapped in leather. Which wasn’t too far off.
Howard closed the door and left Dillon and me alone.
Dillon gripped the wheel and looked over at me with a goofy grin. “This is awesome!”
“This car looks good on you,” I told him.
He didn’t say anything in return; he just looked at me with that smile and ran his hands over the steering wheel, almost caressing it.
I imagined us as a couple on holiday driving through the English countryside in the spring. The car’s powerful engine would rumble beneath us. Dillon would pull over on the side of the road near the cliffs and we’d get frisky while the salty air blew in from the ocean. It would be tough to maneuver around the steering wheel and center console, but I’d manage to straddle him so our bodies could mesh together, hot and throbbing. Need would overtake us and we wouldn’t care about cars passing by on the road. Dillon would grab a fistful of my hair as I
lowered onto his---
“Livi?” Dillon was asking.
“Huh?” I shook away the daydream and focused on Dillon’s beautiful face.
“I asked if you wanted to walk around some more.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” It was getting too hot inside the car anyway.
The image of us writhing together in the seat fogged up my mind and I walked around the rest of the cars in a bit of a daze.
After we’d seen every car there was to see, I started to get restless. I put my hand up to the side of my mouth to shield it from any nearby lip readers. “This is getting boring,” I whispered.
“What would you rather be doing?” Dillon asked with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
I looked at him over my champagne glass, deciding which answer to give him. My body’s answer or my mind’s? I went with the safest. “Honestly? I’d rather be up in my room watching a movie and eating microwave popcorn.”
“Well let’s go then,” he said, starting for the door.
“We can’t leave now,” I insisted with a sigh, pulling him back.
“Why not? Is there some rule that says we have to stay?”
“I guess not,” I answered, feeling like an eighth grader being coerced into cutting class.
“We made our appearance. And you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night anyway.”
“Oh, poor me.”
The idea of being “stuck” in my room with Dillon didn’t sound so bad at all. I looked around for the exit.
“There you two are!” Just then, Cornelia Davenport sauntered up to us with a sticky sweet smile and fused herself to Dillon’s side. “It’s so wonderful to see you made it. Have you had a chance to visit the auction area?”
“No, we haven’t,” Dillon replied.
If we had been sitting at a table, I would’ve kicked Dillon underneath it.
“Come on, I’ll walk over with you.” Cornelia possessively weaved her arm through Dillon’s.
Submersed Page 5
