04 - Shock and Awesome

by Camilla Chafer

  I don't know if it was because Justin looked so showy, or perhaps, his accent made the wait staff seem extra deferential. Maybe it was because I just looked utterly fabulous on his arm, but his chest seemed to puff out more and more as we went into the hotel. By the time we were seated at our table, next to full-length windows that overlooked a pretty courtyard garden, Justin's chest seemed to have increased in size by at least a half. If he started pumping weights, he'd probably look pretty good, but not as good as... no, I refused to think about him.

  "Again, I must say, you look divine," sighed Justin, as he ran his eyes over my top half... where they seemed to linger. Well, men were men no matter where they came from, I decided. Give them a title, and they still looked at your boobs. I shouldn't be surprised. "A true lady," he continued. "Just the type of female who would feel right at home in my family's country seat."

  "Do you have a big, er, seat?" I stuttered.

  "Enormous." Justin winked. I wondered if we were still talking houses, or if I'd gotten it all wrong and “seat” meant something else to an Englishman. "Acres and acres. We have three full-time gardeners for constant maintenance. The house has staff, too, of course," he added, like it was perfectly natural. I wondered if it was natural to keep mentioning it. Hadn't he tried to lure me in with stories about his wealth already? Not to mention the women I briefly met at the ball.

  He reached for my hand and held it in his own, examining my nails before running his thumb over my palm. "These are hands that haven't seen a day's work," he told me.

  What?! They'd seen days, nights, and weekends in all kinds of crappy jobs. There wasn't anything these hands hadn't done unfortunately, except, you know, anything illegal. Well, body-trading type of illegal. These hands had definitely done other illegal stuff, and they were about to do one other thing that might be viewed dimly in the eyes of the law. Fortunately, I wasn't too clear on that and pled ignorance as my defense. For most people, ignorance is the world's worst defense, but most people weren't related to a large chunk of MPD, several of whom wanted babysitting. Good babysitters were hard to find. Lucky me.

  However, I decided to appear affronted at the assertion that I might have to work. After all, wasn't I an heiress in Justin's eyes? "Of course not," I sniffed. "I'm rich!"

  Justin's eyes flashed. "Filthy rich, darling?"

  "Rolling in it." Before Justin asked just how much I had to roll in, the waiter approached and we spent a little time looking through the menu. Justin insisted we "partake" in the "traditional" champagne afternoon tea: tiny sandwiches, miniature cakes and all.

  While we waited, I reached into my purse for my cell phone before laying it on the table. "I hope you don't mind," I said, "but I'm waiting for a call from my jeweler. I decided I didn't like the ones I had at home when someone broke in, so he's showing me some new pieces. Diamonds," I added, watching his reaction carefully, "big ones."

  "Not at all," Justin replied with a shrug as if he didn't care, but something about the way his eyes widened at the suggestion of big diamonds told me he cared a lot. Again, I had the feeling that he wasn't quite as wealthy as he claimed. He was always just a little bit too interested in how much I supposedly had. On the other hand, maybe rich people were all nosy show-offs. I didn't know any personally, so I couldn't be sure. Justin took his cell from inside his breast pocket and laid it on the table. "My money guy said he'd call about some investments this afternoon."

  I looked at his phone. He looked at mine. Neither rang. But I did have his phone in the open, and that's exactly what I wanted. Problem was, how could I clone it without him noticing? It wasn't like I could point into the courtyard and shout, “There's an elephant!” to keep him looking for the few minutes it took to copy all his data.

  "So," said Justin, raising his eyebrows and blinking. "How do you feel about living in England? Or would you prefer the States after our wedding?"

  "I, uh, wha.." I started, almost jumping from my chair in surprise. I flapped my hands as my breath caught, and the next thing I knew, the approaching waiter tripped over my foot, sending the carafe of water he carried in slow motion over the table and onto... Justin's lap.

  Bull’s eye!

  "Argh!" yelled Justin, jumping up as if the water were hot tea. "You damned fool!"

  "Sir, I apologize," stuttered the waiter as the commotion drew glances from around the room. "Allow me..." He produced a cloth and made attempts at dabbing Justin's crotch while Justin tried to fend him off. Somehow, neither seemed to be enjoying the “Step-backwards-and-dry, step-forwards-and-flap-hands” dance. Except for me.

  "Lexi, I'll return shortly. Out of my way," snapped Justin, giving the waiter enough time to jump sideways as Justin stormed from the room.

  "I'm so sorry," said the waiter, with an apologetic look. He gave a nervous glance across the room toward the doors Justin just exited. Beyond it, loomed a suited presence, whom I could only assume was his boss.

  I pasted on a bright smile. "Don't worry about it," I told him, remembering my days as the world's most inefficient waitress. They were only a few days. Well, a week, really. Lily and I both got fired at the same time. She got another job the next week while I sulked. "He needed to cool his jets anyway. Would you replace his chair in case it's damp, and perhaps mop up the water?" I asked as pleasantly as I could. The poor guy's nerves were on edge, but he just did me a huge favor, even if he didn't know it. Plus, you could always judge someone by how they treated waiters, and I liked to put myself in a good light.

  The waiter heaved a grateful breath. "Of course, Madam," he said, grabbing the chair and racing from the room. As heads returned to their own conversations, I carefully extracted the small cloning device from my purse, reached for Justin's phone, and mated the two. Almost immediately, the red glow appeared, then "1%."

  "Come on," I urged it softly. "Let's do this!"

  ”5%, 10%,” the little device carried on. As the waiter changed the chair and a busboy cleared away the damp mess, I held Justin's cell phone in my lap, smiling nicely at anyone who looked my way. With the table put to rights, I focused my attention on the courtyard windows, ideal for checking the reflection of an approaching angry lord.

  Uncovering the device, I peeked into my lap. ”75%.” Nearly there. My heart began to beat faster, and my nerves began to tingle. Surely, Justin would be dry by now? So close. All I needed were a few more minutes.

  ”85%.”

  ”90%.”

  I checked the window and saw the reflection of the waiter as he entered with a tiered, cake stand laden with an assortment of goodies. Immediately behind him was Justin, glowering still, but considerably dryer.

  ”94%.”

  My heart thudded. I wasn't going to make it.

  The waiter stepped forward. Justin stepped forward. They stepped together. Justin narrowed his eyes. The waiter grimaced. They both prepared to step forward again.

  ”96%.”

  "Come on, come on," I urged the gadget.

  Justin signaled to the waiter to move with an angry cut of his hand, and the waiter slunk forward. He fussed over the presentation of the stand, while a pretty little waitress approached next, adding a champagne bucket and two delicate, long-stemmed flutes. Justin stood behind them, his route blocked. I could not care less. He was rude, slightly stupid, and, I remembered all of a sudden, a bill evader. I wondered if he planned to stick me with this one too; or did he think I didn't know that he slunk out of Alessandro's with a bad card?

  ”98%.”

  "Thank you," I murmured, beaming at the servers as they shrank away from Justin. He eyed the champagne bucket suspiciously then dramatically went about testing the chair, presumably so his effort of drying his lap was not in vain. His back was turned to me.

  ”100%.”

  I detached the cloning gadget, letting it drop into the folds of my skirt, and returned the phone to the table, moving my hand to pick up a finger sandwich as Justin turned to face me. He sat down with a roll of his eyes as
if he were extremely put out.

  "Mmm," I smiled. "These look delicious." With my heart beating faster than normal after my close call and lucky escape, I took a satisfied bite. Another bite, and the tiny, crustless sandwich was gone. Damn, crazy English sandwiches.

  I didn't have to talk much over tea. Justin droned on and on about the family estate and how he would take over soon, but only after his father passed. For now, he was content to look after his business dealings here in Montgomery. As to why he picked our large town over other cities not so far away, or what his businesses were, remained a mystery, and Justin evaded those questions like a pro. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for the city," he said eventually with a casual wave of his hand as he reached for a tiny cake. "Just like you," he added, which was a fair point, given our location. "Do you ever see yourself as a country girl?"

  "I haven't really thought about it," I admitted, which was true. "I, er, like walks in the country and, um, nature." What else was there in the country? "Not bears or coyotes or opossums though."

  "We don't have any of those." Justin paused and frowned. "I think. Lots of sheep. And cows. Oh yes, many cows. I'll show you a photo." He picked up his cell phone, pressed a few buttons and turned the screen to face me. I wasn't all that enthusiastic about seeing a photo of cows, but I was pretty amazed by the size of the house in the background of the lovely pastoral scene.

  "Lovely cows," I squeaked. What else does one say about cows? Having never been asked to admire any before, I had no idea of the proper protocol for speaking about them. I only got through the section on greetings in the etiquette handbook, and that was complicated enough. "Is that your home?"

  "Oh yes, that's our old house," said Justin.

  "It looks very old." And by old, I meant enormous. Well, old too. It also looked very familiar. Perhaps I'd seen it in a magazine or on television. It was the type of quintessential country house that would be proudly featured.

  "It is. Been in the family for years. All we need now is a new lady at my side when I take over." Justin gave me a knowing look. I looked at the house again. Wowsers. I could live there.

  That dream, however, was dashed when I remembered it would involve living with Justin. He just didn't do it for me. I took a third look at the house and sighed. Damn it, he still didn't do it for me. The situation I was in should have been in the urban dictionary under the definition for “tragedy.”

  Justin sipped the last of his champagne before retrieving the phone just as it rang. He spoke monosyllabically for less than a minute before hanging up. "Must dash," he said, rising. "Crisis with one of my investments needs my immediate attention. I would escort you to your car..."

  "Don't worry about me," I assured him. "I need to, uh, dash too. Urgent appointments."

  "Of course you do, darling." Justin reached for my hand and drew it to his lips, giving my knuckles a lingering kiss. "Until next time."

  "Until then." I fluttered my lashes a little and Justin left, but not before giving the waiter another narrowed-eye look. Behind Justin's back, I smiled at the waiter and he left me alone to finish the last of the delicious, little cakes. As I gathered my things, dropping the cloning device into my purse and pulling on my jacket, the waiter approached. "Shall I clear, Madam?"

  "Yes, please. And I'm sorry about my friend being a little touchy."

  "Not at all, Madam."

  "Thanks anyway." I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile as I navigated my way between the tables to the exit. Just as I crossed the lobby, I heard someone calling me in visible distress. Turning, I saw the waiter hurrying towards me. "Madam," he exhaled, waving a slip at me. His nose and cheeks were starting to pink, but not with anger like before. This time it looked more like... embarrassment.

  "Yes?" I waited, wondering what on earth I left. My purse was in my hand and I'd already checked my cell phone and wallet were inside.

  "The bill, Madam," the waiter said in a low voice.

  "Pardon?"

  "The bill has not been paid, Madam."

  "There must be a mistake." I frowned. "My friend didn't pay?" The waiter colored a deeper pink, giving me my answer. The rat! Justin, not the waiter. How rude. "Of course, I forgot. Silly me. Let me give you my card," I said, rummaging in my purse for my wallet. Finding it, I took the slip and winced. Of all the bills to land me with! And just how much did teeny, weeny sandwiches and itty, bitty cakes cost? Thank God we didn't order full-sized ones! With a thudding, and not particularly full, stomach, I handed my card to the waiter and waited as he processed it. If Solomon didn't consider this a work expense, I couldn’t eat for the next month.

  "All done, Madam," the waiter assured me, handing me the receipt. "Have a wonderful day."

  Not likely, I decided, as I left, giving my ticket to the valet. Climbing into my car, all I could think about was what a jerk Justin was to stiff me with the bill and how I hoped the cloning device snagged some dirt on him for payback. Also, I was really hungry.

  ~

  "You smell like fries," said Solomon when I pulled into the agency parking lot a half hour later and wound down the window. He waited for me by the elevator, just as I asked him to. He didn't give an indication how long he'd been standing there, so it could have been seconds, minutes, or hours.

  "Whatever," I snipped, running my tongue over my teeth.

  "I didn't say I didn't like it. You got any leftovers?" He stooped to look through the window, his eyes searching my car for telltale wrappers.

  "Nope, sorry."

  He sniffed. "I thought you went for afternoon tea?"

  "I did. Have you seen how small those sandwiches are? I just ate a Big Mac and large fries. Speaking of which..." I pulled the bill from my purse. "Lord Justin stuck me with the bill. Again."

  "Really? Jerk." Solomon looked at the bill. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly with distaste. I wouldn't like to be Justin when Solomon decided he wanted to have words about the bill. "I'll take care of it. Add the fries to your expenses too. You clone his phone?"

  "Yep." I dropped the gadget into his outstretched palm. "Hope there's something juicy on it. I know I'm a heiress and all, right now, but seriously, where's this guy’s manners?"

  "Don't worry about it. Lucas will find out the situation with Justin. You coming in?"

  "No, sorry, I have to meet Ben. I'm kind of running late and I need to change."

  "Have a shower too. Burgers are fine, but they aren't the best scent on you."

  "Thanks a bundle. And you wanted some!"

  Solomon gave me a look. It wasn't an “I want a burger look,” but he definitely wanted something tasty. Before I started to salivate at the thought of being his “objet de nibble,” I stuck my tongue out at him and hit the electric window. "Let me know what you find," I yelled as the window rolled shut. Then I hit the gas, leaving Solomon in the parking garage with the lingering scent of my burger and fries.

  ~

  After the disastrous date with Justin, I was ready for a pleasant evening with Ben. Even better, I couldn’t wait until Lucas got back to me with some dirt on Justin. There was something wrong with the lord, but only a real intrusion of his personal life could uncover what. Unfortunately, I hated waiting.

  "You look distracted, honey," said Ben, taking my hand as we left the restaurant. The night had fallen, leaving the sky inky black, and a silvery half moon hung over us. All we needed was a shooting star to highlight the evening. That, and maybe to clear Ben of any wrongdoing, and for me to become the person he thought I was. It was a shame we didn't meet in another life. I could have really liked Ben. I did really like Ben. Unfortunately, my world would eventually return to normal soon, and that would be that.

  "I'm sorry, I am a little distracted," I admitted, wondering what I could add to that. Happily, Ben beat me to it.

  "It must be the burglary. So, no one saw a thing?" he asked, for what was probably the third time. "You didn't even get a glimpse of this guy on security footage?"

  I shook my head.
"Nothing."

  "Was anyone hurt?"

  I paused. How could he have possibly known that? Wait, he didn't ask “How was the person who got hurt?” but “if anyone was hurt.” That was different.