SELFLESS (11 page)

“No,” I laughed. “Like what did you want to be? A job, I mean.”

“I always wanted to model,” she said immediately, her eyes getting a faraway look. “I wanted people to look at me because I’d spent so many years trying to keep them from looking at me. I wanted to do the exact opposite—never hide again.”

“You’re beautiful, Cream,” I said. “You can still do that, you know.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But I kind of doubt Andrew would go for it.”

I glanced up at the clock. “We’d better finish up,” I said. “Don’t want to disappoint him on our very first day.”

We’d done everything on the spreadsheet except clean his bedroom. I thought we were doing pretty well, considering. We were making excellent time.

Even though cleaning his room—the master bedroom—was stipulated on the listing of chores, it still felt like an invasion. Cream and I spoke in whispers if we had any reason to. Overall, we kept quiet as we made the bed, picked up, dusted, swept, and mopped.

The master bedroom was much bigger than our little room. The bed was enormous, too, taking up a good portion of the room. There was a bathroom in here, as well, and it had a giant whirlpool tub made out of the same black marble that decorated the rest of the house.

Andrew’s closet was envious and meticulous, shined shoes lining the shelves, shirts hanging from hangers, clean, pressed, and arranged according to color. I didn’t think I’d ever own enough clothing to fill a closet of that size. Maybe, if I pooled all of the clothing I’d ever owned with all of the clothing the female contingency had ever owned, we could perhaps fill the closet. I kind of doubted it, though.

There was another door in the room, but it was locked.

“I guess whatever’s in here doesn’t need cleaning?” I said, rattling the doorknob. It looked like it required a key.

“I guess not,” Cream commented.

We were finished by five, which was perfect. We took turns in the shower, washing off our sweat and a hard day’s work. We got back into our robes and let our hair air dry, combing it out with our fingers.

“I’d kill for some makeup,” Cream said, patting her cheeks and looking worried.

“Oh, stop,” I scolded. “You’re flawless. You don’t need anything.”

“I just want to really impress Andrew,” she said.

“Well, I think we did a really good job cleaning,” I said. “He knows we don’t have toiletries or things like that. He’ll understand why we’re fresh faced.”

When six o’clock rolled around, I was as nervous as Cream, jiggling my foot as we sat on the couch and waited for Andrew to get there.

“Do you think we should’ve started something for dinner?” Cream asked for the third time.

“No,” I said. “Remember? We’re doing that thing with the personal shoppers.” That was an idea I couldn’t quite grasp. “He probably wouldn’t want us to be cooking while they were there. Plus, he told us we could always wait for him to get home before we started.”

Both of us jumped to our feet when we heard the door beep and unlock.

Andrew stepped in, looking as cool and composed as he had when he first left.

“Hello,” Cream said, beaming at him as he set his briefcase down. She approached him and kissed his cheek.

I followed at a distance, having to go up on my toes to reach his cheek. When I could only reach his jaw line, he laughed and bent down to accommodate me.

“The place looks nice,” he observed, glancing around before looking at us both warmly. “Any troubles finding anything?”

“There was a locked door in your room,” Cream said. “Nothing in there that you want cleaned?”

I noticed the half beat that he hesitated, staring at her, but I wasn’t sure if Cream did.

“No,” he said. “That’s just storage. It’s fine. Thank you for being so thorough.”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do tomorrow,” she said coyly, running a finger down his arm before helping him from his suit jacket. “This place is sparkling. How are we going to amuse ourselves while you’re at work?”

Andrew laughed at her. “I’m sure you’ll find a way,” he said. “You are both beautiful, inventive girls. I’m sure you could … entertain each other.”

The innuendo of the words was impossible to miss.

“Would you like that?” Cream asked, batting her eyes at him. “Maybe we would wait to do it until you got home.”

“Now that would be motivation to get me through my work day,” he said, loosening his tie. “The personal shoppers should be here—”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“—any minute,” he finished, grinning. “Perfect timing.”

He turned back to the door and opened it, admitting two women pushing a rack of hanging clothes and two more loaded down with shopping bags.

“Wow,” Cream said, staring at them. “Did the store come to us?”

“More or less,” Andrew said, smiling. “I took the liberty of looking at the sizes of your clothes that you wore here last night to give these ladies some idea of the sizes to bring to you.”

The idea of Andrew going through our clothing was a little disconcerting, but I was too entranced with all the beautiful clothing to give it much thought. I wasn’t aware I was smiling until Andrew commented on it.

“Look at that face,” he said, cocking his head at me. “Are you excited, Pumpkin?”

“It’s like Christmas morning,” I said, looking at him. Cream had told me to try harder, so I smiled extra big for him. “Thank you.”

Andrew practically glowed. “You’re welcome,” he said. “I just want you two to be comfortable.”

If the personal shoppers unloading their bags and taking clothing out of plastic coverings were shocked at a man commandeering them for the evening, they gave no sign. They hardly even looked at us. I wondered how much he’d paid for this service.

“We could put on a fashion show with all of this,” Cream said, ogling the beautiful shoes they’d brought.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Andrew said. “We want to see what fits and looks good, after all.”

We helped the personal shoppers carry everything into our bedroom and had Andrew wait out in the sitting room.

“This is fun,” Cream said, clapping her hands as she shimmied into a dark blue dress. Of course. She’d always wanted to be a model.

I’d gone through my entire life wanting to stay out of the spotlight. To me, a fashion show was torture, but I vowed to grin and bear it for my friend’s sake.

“It sure is,” I lied, one of the shoppers zipping me into a pink dress.

We both picked shoes and walked out of our room. Andrew was there, waiting for us, drinking coffee and chatting with who I believed to be the lead shopper. He looked up as we entered, and I found myself holding my breath, wishing fervently for nothing more than his approval. I didn’t know why it was so important to me, but it was. I wanted him to think I was beautiful.

“Simply breathtaking, both of you,” he said as Cream grabbed my hand and twirled me around. “I’ve never seen a pair of more gorgeous women. Excellent choices for the cut and color of these pieces, Ms. Starr.”

The lead shopper smiled and shrugged. “You incredibly detailed descriptions were a help,” she said. “There are so many times when we just have to guess at things.”

How had Andrew described me? A short Latina with a huge ass? I had to wonder.

“Next,” Andrew said, sending us scurrying back to our room to get a different look on.

It was almost like playing dress-up, I supposed, as we tried on clothes and went to show him. There were skirts, jeans, blouses, tops, and more.

“Do you think he wants us to model the lingerie?” I asked, holding up a thong and raising an eyebrow.

“I’d do it if we were alone,” Cream said, pressing her boobs together as she tried on a shirt. “But I don’t think he’d like it with everyone here.”

We walked out with the last outfits on. Nearly everything had fit us perfectly. The personal shoppers were good at what they did.

“This is it,” Cream said, holding her arms out and turning around.

“Superb,” Andrew said. “We’ll take everything that fit.”

“Everything?” Cream repeated, her mouth agape.

“Everything,” Andrew confirmed, nodding.

“Thank you,” I said softly as the lead shopper slipped him a bill. He hardly glanced at the sheet of paper, keeping his eyes on us.

“Thank you for both being so beautiful,” he said, signing the paper with a pen the lead shopper produced.

After the shoppers left—they had also brought a bag full of cosmetics and toiletries—we started preparing dinner. It was nearly eight o’clock by then.

“I’m starving,” Andrew said, looking over to my skillet. “What are you preparing over here? It smells excellent.”

“
Carne guisada
,” I said. “Beef stew. We’ll have a little rice to help soak it up.” I pointed at another covered pot.”

Cream was busy setting the table. She had already chopped up some vegetables for a light salad.

“Beautiful as well as talented,” Andrew said, standing a little too close to me for comfort.

“It’s simple to make,” I said. “My family always used this recipe.”

I wondered what the female contingency was doing. I wondered if I would ever see them again.

We ate together, both Cream and Andrew showering me with compliments over the stew. It was an easy thing to make. I basically just dumped a bunch of ingredients together in a pot and heated it up. The flavors and spices did the rest.

Cream and I took over cleaning up after dinner as Andrew went over some papers he’d brought home from work. When 10 o’clock rolled around, he yawned.

“I think we’re going to go put our new pajamas on,” Cream said, smiling at me suggestively. Our new pajamas were several silky teddies. I tried not to frown. What did Cream have in mind?

“What a wonderful idea,” Andrew said. “I’m thinking about turning in, myself.”

“Well, we’ll want to show you how these look before you go to bed,” Cream said with a wink. “We’ll be back.”

When she closed the bedroom door behind us, I turned.

“What’s your plan?” I asked.

“We’re going to sleep with him,” she said. “He deserves that.”

“Do you think so?” I asked. “Is a new wardrobe worth giving up your sex?”

“I’ve given it up for a lot less, believe me,” Cream said, shedding her clothes and pulling her teddy out of a dresser drawer. She slipped it on and admired herself in the mirror.

“I’m not ready,” I said, folding my arms over my chest and remaining stubbornly dressed in my plain black T-shirt and jeans. I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Not ready for what?” Cream asked incredulously. “You had just as much sex as I did when we worked at Mama’s nightclub.”

That wasn’t true, but I didn’t bother correcting her. Whole days would pass between me taking customers upstairs. I was very picky, and Cream wasn’t picky at all.

“I’d like to take some more time before sleeping with him,” I said. “I don’t feel good about it, yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll feel good when he’s pounding you,” she said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But it’s not going to be tonight.”