by Freda, Paula
"You've only tasted chocolate once?" he asked, bewildered. Where the Hades did she come from?
Their turn approached and the teenage boy in the uniformed cap and apron, serving behind the counter, asked, "What's your pleasure, sir?"
Ben ordered, then escorted Jessica to a booth in the corner while they waited for their number to be called to pick up their meals.
Jessica stood in front of the booth, fascinated by the upholstery. When she gave no indication of sitting, Ben motioned her to slide into the booth. He wondered if the girl had been locked up somewhere all her young life.
"They don't have restaurants, or a luncheonette, in your home town?"
Jessica shook her head.
He tried again. "Where are you from?"
"I-I told you, the northeast."
"What's the name of the state?"
No reply.
"What town?" he asked, unable to restrain, any longer the thread of impatience in his voice.
"It's a small, nondescript town," she replied.
"What's its name?" he repeated.
Must it have a name?" she asked, childlike.
"Yeah, it does."
Again the hesitation. Finally, "Dodge City."
"What?" Had he heard right. "Dodge City?" He had never heard of a Dodge City up north. Of course, that did not mean there wasn't one. There were millions of cities, many not on the map.
At his incredulous look, Jessica said, "Well, at least that's what it translates to." A voice from the counter called their number.
"Excuse me," Ben said, and returned to the counter to pick up their meals.
To learn more about Jessica, he would have to ask Fiona to show him the contract. She normally printed out the contracts assigned by Lester for his hard copy files. Lester had learned long ago that it is best to have a printed copy of important documents in case of internet failure or blackouts. The required contracts contained all pertinent information about the model and his or her agreement to abide by the fashion magazine's standard terms of employment. Ben was sure to find her background info, such as her present address or at least her former one; a reference or two, and her date of birth. The Personnel Department double-checked to make sure the applicant's info was true and that the model was not under contract to another fashion magazine with restrictions necessitating release or permission. Ben was not familiar with all the legalities or jargon involved, but he was sure he'd learn something about Jessica's past from her paperwork.
He returned to the table with the tray of food and removed the items and placed her veggie burger and chocolate milkshake in front of her, along with her napkins. He sat down to eat his beef burger and drink his vanilla milkshake, but waited gentleman-like for her to begin eating. He watched her quizzically as she stared at the food as if deciding which to consume first. At last, she pursed her lips with determination and went for the veggie burger. After savoring a couple of bites, she gazed up at Ben, smiling. "Not too bad. And I am famished."
"Try the milkshake," he said. Again the hesitation, the determination, and the deed. The chocolate milkshake was an instant success. She licked her lips. "That's so good. Not at all like the one they—" She broke off. Ben saw a wary semblance pass quickly over her face and as quickly disappear.
"Not at all like the one you tasted before?" he finished for her.
"Yeah, that's right," she said, definite relief in the tone of her voice.
"But didn't you say you never tasted chocolate before?" he asked, trying to catch her in a lie.
"No, I didn't say that," she retorted. "But what I tasted was ... artificial cocoa."
Ben shook his head, exasperated. "Jessica, why are you so unwilling to talk about yourself?" he finally had to ask.
"Ben, I much prefer eating this tasty meal. I am famished. Please, could you let up on the interrogation?"
One moment sweet, simple-minded, eyes-wide in amazement, he thought. Next moment devious, stubborn, tight-lipped.
"No problem," he answered, back stiffening. The thought ran through his mind, possibly split-personality. He dug into his burger. He had several assignments waiting to be finished by the cut-off date. The magazine paid him well to work both at the office and at home. Lester Edwards wasn't stupid. And Ben had always found him a good judge of character. As soon as they finished their meal and returned to the office, he would have nothing more to do with her, whoever she was, and wherever the Hades in the northeast she came from.
Or so he thought... A corner of Jessica's mouth rose with the hint of a smile, and her dark blue eyes shone with the tiniest wicked gleam.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ben barely spoke to Jessica on their walk back to the main office. He left her at Fiona's desk. "See if you can find her somewhere to stay."
Fiona regarded him askance.
Ben explained, "From the little she's told me, I believe she only arrived in town early yesterday morning, without a cent on her. See if you can find her a place to stay — maybe the Y, or if one of the other models can put her up, at least until she gets her first paycheck. If worst comes to worst, book her into a hotel and debit my salary. I brought her in. It's the least I can do."
Fiona nodded. "Will do. I'll get her settled. Lucky girl."
Ben eyed her quizzically. Funny turn of phrase. "She's all yours," Ben said, and headed for the art department and his drawing board.
Fiona motioned to Jessica to sit on the chair next to her desk. "You've got your work cut out for you," she said.
"Don't I know it," Jessica replied. "They don't teach us the half of it." She settled comfortably in the carved wood chair. "Nice," she remarked, running her hand over the curved armrest.
"I can't complain,” Fiona remarked. Lester Edwards is a good man. He does the best for his employees. Expects a lot, but he gives a lot as well."
"So what's taking him so long," Jessica asked.
"He was hurt once, badly. As a result, he keeps a tight hold on his heart. He's smart, good-natured, sensitive, and totally oblivious to anything not human."
Jessica replied, surprised, "All these years? At least does he know how you feel about him?"
Fiona shook her head. "Not an inkling. If he suspects, he's never let on. I'm not surprised he never married. He doesn't even date."
"Is he—?"
Fiona shook her head adamantly. No, he's straight. I did the research when I first realized I was attracted to him."
Aren't his thoughts clear to you?" Jessica asked,
"I don't read his mind. You know the rules — invasion of privacy."
"Yes, I know," Jessica commiserated. "Only when absolutely necessary — like at first meeting, to inspect character, or when in danger of harm or a life threatening situation. Maybe you should tell him how you feel."
"I can't. I won't chance it. He might feel threatened. He confides in me, considers me a best friend. I won't risk loosing that. I'm allowed the remainder of his years. Besides, I'm not as young as you. In the end, his years and mine will time together. I stalled for a long time before joining the program. If Lester should fall for someone else, then I will go back."
"Fiona, I know I'm fresh out of school, but my instinct tells me you should let him know how you feel, before it gets too late. Face the risk. Better now than when essence and corpus are so fused together, that both suffer, and the memories can never be erased."
Fiona smiled warmly. "You may be just out of school, but you're quite intelligent and sensitive. My instinct tells me that Ben Jameson is already attracted to you."
"Yes, he is. He just hasn't accepted it yet. He's fighting the feelings. And he won't admit to himself how wrong he is. I read his thoughts," Jessica said, with a wicked smile.
Fiona frowned. Jessica added quickly, "Okay, I won't do so again. The rules are there for a reason. Privacy is very important to humans. I understand and respect the principle."
Fiona's frown lifted, and she patted Jessica's arm. "Well, Ben is right about finding you a plac
e to stay. So, how about staying with me? I have a large apartment with a den that can easily be turned into a bedroom."
"Yes, I like. With you I don't have to hide who I really am. If you don't mind."
"Not at all, dear. We're ... confrères ... colleagues. We have the same goal ... the human heart."
CHAPTER FIVE
For a couple of days Ben heard nothing more about Jessica. His other assignments took precedence and he blindsided himself to all else. Unhappily, when he entered the editorial department, holding the rolled up sketches inside cardboard tubes under his arm, he saw Jessica, attired in the Blue Velvet dress, seated beside Fiona's desk, and the two were involved in a quiet conversation. Once again he noted how much she resembled the girl in his sketch, and how lovely she was. His initial attraction to her again bombarded his senses, and he wished that her character was less quirky.
He waited for Fiona to address him.
"Good morning, Ben. Lester is expecting you. He always looks forward to seeing your work." She smiled warmly and buzzed her boss. "Jameson's here."
"Send him right in," Lester responded and clicked off.
"Ben ... Ben ... Yoo-hoo,” Fiona waved to him.
"Oh, right." Ben said, startled by her voice. He had been staring at Jessica.
Fiona exchanged a knowing glance with her confrère.
Ben entered his boss's office.
Lester beamed, "Just the man I want to see! That girl you brought in is the envy of all our models put together. I've shown the flats of her shoots to the designer, and she can't stop praising them, and your background. She wants more. Parts of the City and more of the moon itself. And she wants Jessica to model more of her designs. She even suggested doing an article about her alien surroundings ... to complement her line.
Ben sighed deeply. "It was only a one-time idea. Where—"
"Oh, come on, the background image sprung from your head; it's one of a myriad of related ideas hiding in your subconscious." He read the hesitation on Ben's face. "I don't want to ask any of the other artists in our department. It's your creation. Anyone else's additions might impair the continuity of the backdrops."
Ben's jaw tightened. He wished he'd never drawn the sketch in the first place. But his boss was right. It was his creation, and it was his place to draw others that would continue the theme and retain his style. "All right," he agreed, reluctantly.
Lester nodded. He lifted the cover to a large sketchpad on his desk and flipped pages displaying new fashions waiting to be modeled. He chose several tagged in the corner with a green marker and handed them to Ben. These are garments the designer wants Jessica to model, and you to create settings that complement your original."
Ben flipped through the designs — daywear, beachwear, sleepwear, among them. He sneered, as respectfully as he could. "Lester, there are no beaches on the moon!"
"Oh, well," his boss improvised, "the city might have pools, or saunas, something."
Exasperated, Ben ran a nervous hand through his hair. A wavy lock fell across the side of his brow. "How soon do you need them?"
"At least a couple more for this issue," he said. "If it does well, I plan a series, a few in each upcoming issue."
"Any particular ones you prefer?" Ben asked.
"The City," Lester said, "Concentrate on aspects of the City for now. You might throw in some technological advancements. It's your creation ... Create! And get some input from Jessica. Spend time with her. I know she's a bit weird, but that's a plus for your sketches. You need, quote different unquote, for these sets. And Jessica is the one to inspire you. At present she is staying with Fiona. The two appear to have bonded." He smiled, pleased with the thought. "You know, Ben," he added, "when I first met Fiona, she seemed a bit weird to me. But she grew on me. And now, I don't know what I'd do without her."
Ben contemplated his boss' hearty chuckle. Most of the employees in the department eventually learned through the grapevine that their boss never dated, not because he disliked women, but because long ago he had been cruelly hurt. By whom or how, remained conjecture. The hurt Lester had suffered was evident from his own comments — "Oh, she's lovely, but don't trust her — She's sweet as honey poured over bile." And some years ago when one of the models had leaked sensitive information to a competing magazine, "Unending loyalty and honesty, two traits in my lifetime, not even my mother possessed."
Perhaps one day Lester might reverse his opinion about Fiona, since there was always the chance she might turn on him, and give him cause to lump her with the other women he had known in his life.
"All right, you're the boss, Ben said. “Is that it?"
"Yeah. Fiona has copies of the shoot with Jessica, ready for you."
Ben stood up. Lester buzzed Fiona. "Give Ben the copies of the shoot. Oh, and make a couple of reservations at a good restaurant. I believe, Ben mentioned taking Jessica to dinner tonight.” He glanced up. “It's on the house," he said. "Write it up as a business expense."
Ben sneered. "Business expense?"
Lester nodded. "I told you, I want her input on your ideas."
Ben made a wry face. What had gotten into his boss, these past few days? No model before had ever affected Lester this way.
"Fine," he said. "I'll take her to dinner. But tell her to wear a nice dress."
He marched from the office, took the folder with the photos that Fiona held extended to him, and with a dry sidelong glance at Jessica, and "I'll pick you up at eight. Wear something nice," he returned to his department.
CHAPTER SIX
Eight o'clock came too soon for Jessica. There were so many more questions she wanted to ask Fiona, but the hours between leaving work and getting ready for dinner with Ben, had all been dedicated to outward appearance. His words as he walked past her earlier that day, still rang in her ears. "...Wear something nice." Could she help it that when he'd first met her, she had landed only hours before — if that's what you called crash shimmering into a mimosa bush. At least it had been a soft landing.
Jessica sighed. Mea culpa, she thought. When she informed her conceivers of her decision to join the off-worlders, both had advised her to study harder the luminous vade mecum. But she had been too excited and eager to heed their thoughts, despite that a century ago they had lived on earth, themselves, for several years. Ergo, her botched landing and poor knowledge of the language and customs. Luckily, she had chosen a society with a high regard for a woman's intellect and freedom, and capacity for advancement. She had at least allowed her conceivers to suggest a helper, Fiona.
The door bell rang. Ben liked to be punctual. She had ascertained that quality along with other traits she considered favorable upon her first mind-reading, the one allowed to find a trustworthy ally. She'd scanned the entire complex. There were other candidates, but none that complemented her personality as well as Ben did.
She gave herself one last look in the mirror above the bureau. Fiona had helped her choose a wardrobe.
"Wear this one, tonight," she had advised, a simple but elegant pink short-sleeved, A-line sheath with a scooped neckline, not too high and not too low, showing enough of her neck and chest to make her desirable, but not available.
A thin silver bracelet dangled from her wrist and coordinated her single strand necklace and pendant earrings. Good choices, Jessica thought. The dress did not detract from her naïveté, a trait that Ben hadn't yet admitted to himself, he liked about her from their first meeting.
The body grown for her according to her specifications was also a good choice. Possession of a live subject was anathema to her species, and strictly forbidden. She could, of course, have chosen to inhabit one whose soul had already sped back to the Creator at the moment of passing. The highly advanced technology of her world, knew cures to most of the ailments on this world. But since she wished to cohabit and raise a family, she had opted for an original.
The doorbell rang again, this time more insistent. She had a complicated job ahead of her, to convinc
e Ben to fold to his initial attraction to her. As for herself, the human term, love at first sight, although often not a reliable truism for the human mind, in the case of her civilization, was extremely reliable.
The heels of her pink leather shoes clicked across the tiled floors. She intentionally avoided the oriental area rug centered under the coffee table and the gray suede couch, to avoid snagging the narrow heels, they as well, not too low and not too high.
The bell rang a third time. Patience was not his best quality, but then, neither had it been hers when she decided to come here. Something they both needed to work on. "I'm coming," Jessica called apologetically. She reached to unlock the door, then remembered Fiona's advice always to look through the eye hole, to see who was behind the door before she opened it. She did as advised. Ben waited, dry faced, but spiffy in a Stetson, tan blazer and pants, beige shirt and black bolo tie, the two braided leather strings clipped with a thumb-sized oval eye stone.
She took a deep breath to calm the accelerated beating of her heart, contemplated her own self-worth, and unchained and unlocked the door. She opened it wide, greeting Ben with a welcoming smile.
"You're early," she said, appreciatively.
"I'm late," he replied. It was 8:10.
"Oh, ten minutes, here or there," she said, "doesn't matter."
"Sometimes it does," he replied. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, I'm ready. I'll just get my wrap," she answered. "To ward off the chill from the air conditioners.”
He nodded, and waited for her. She noted he wore fancy brown leather boots. He'd gone all out to follow his boss' request. Or did he unconsciously wish to impress her?
She returned quickly with a black silk wrap and a matching hand purse, and pulled the door shut behind her.
"Make sure it's locked," Ben said, indicating the door.
"Oh, yes, thank you." She tried the knob and it opened easily. Fiona also had cautioned her about the same. Her confrère was out tonight. In a startling but pleasant turn of events, Lester Edwards had invited Fiona to dinner.
