The Black Chapel (10 page)

“Of course I am,” I say and scoff.

“Well, I think even you are confused. So if you’re confused, how the hell can Michael know who he wants?”

Anne does have a point. “But I always wanted to be that good girl. The one who is decent, respectable and sincere.” I hate the whiny tone in my voice.

“I know, but that’s not what a man needs. And maybe that’s not who you really are. I mean, look at the line of work you ended up in.”

“Yeah, but I was desperate to make ends meet. It was just about the money.”

Anne looks at me. “Yeah, but you had a choice, sweetie.”

I’m amazed that Anne seems to sometimes know me even better than I know myself. “I’ll concede your point.”

“You can thank me later, Hun.” She smiles her gorgeous heart-warming smile, and I’m so glad I have her.

“You’re up in two,” Laila says to me.

I acknowledge her with a nod. I think it’s strange she hasn’t mentioned anything about me meeting with Michael in the sanctuary. She hasn’t even spoken to me about last night, but maybe he hasn’t showed up yet.

I head for the stage in my Peppermint Peasant costume, and feel the anticipation of seeing Michael watching me from the audience. But I am greatly disappointed. He’s not here. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe he has started to like the real me instead. My mind is not on my choreography at all, and I almost mess up. Focus, Scarlett! It’s unnerving not having him here, and my dancing is merely a mechanical sequence of movements to Christmas music.

When I’m done, I hop off the stage. Soon I’m done with all three of my numbers and the finale, too. I take a quick shower, say goodbye to Anne, and head for the exit.

“Scarlett?” I hear Laila’s voice behind me.

I turn around and smile, hoping for good news.

“Mr. Manning said he was very pleased with yesterday’s visit. Here is your fifty percent of the split for the half hour.” She hands me a sealed white envelope with my name on it. “Now it wasn’t as bad as you thought, was it?” Her eyebrows rise and she smiles.

“No, and thank you,” I say.

Once outside, I open the envelope. I count out ten, 100 dollar bills. Holy Shit! A thousand dollars for a half an hour? This means he paid two thousand dollars just to see me for thirty minutes. This man must really be infatuated with Samantha. I groan. How am I going to set things straight?

Once I get home, it’s almost 1:00 a.m. I can’t wait to hop in to bed. I’m so tired I almost forget that Michael is there waiting for me. The living room lights are still on and I open the front door.

Michael is standing by the kitchen table with a wine bottle in his hands.

“Hungry for some dinner?” he says. He’s set the oak dining table for two.

I’m completely taken off guard. I don’t remember the last time anyone made me a homemade dinner. It was years ago before my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I smile at him. “Wow, thank you,” I say as sincerely as I can. I can’t help but go over and hug him. He smells so good. Clean, and I think he’s even wearing a new cologne.

“I have to treat my fiancé to a nice homemade meal before we take the big plunge.” He smiles and I feel my stomach tightening.

“Even though I know it’s all for show, I still really appreciate it,” I say.

He pulls out my chair for me and I see that he has made spaghetti. I smirk. “So you want to see if I can manage eating properly at your mother’s tomorrow?” I sit down.

He whips open the napkin and places it on my lap. He’s so cute. Then he pops the wine bottle open and pours me a drink. “I just want to make sure you’ve eaten well and that you’re up for the interrogation.”

“See, I knew there was an ulterior motive behind this.” I take a sip of my wine.

“Yes, but that’s the only one, I promise,” Michael says.

He sits down across from me and I see his gorgeous face in the light of the candles on the table. What do I need to do to make him interested in me? Why is he so much more fascinated with Samantha than me?

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“I was thinking about how the next few weeks are going to pan out.”

He scoops spaghetti onto my plate and then onto his. “Parmesan cheese?”

“Yes, please.” I’m amused that he knows how to cook a decent meal. “How did you learn to cook?”

“Impressed are you?”

I smirk. “Yeah, a little.” I nod.

“My father loved to cook, and even though we had enough servants and chefs to staff Buckingham Palace, he liked making dinner a few times a week.”

“And where is your father now?” I take a bite of my spaghetti, and it’s to die for.

“He was killed in an airplane crash.”

“Oh, how horrible,” I say. “So sudden.”

“Yes. At the time my parents were divorcing anyway, and I stayed mainly with my mother. So life didn’t change all too much.”

“How old were you?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to talk about it—”

“Sixteen,” he says. “And no, I still don’t really like talking about it. Shall we discuss the next few weeks?”

“Yes. So I was wondering...”

“Yes?”

“Will we be spending Christmas with your family?”

“Yes, I had hoped so. Does that agree with you?”

I smile at his formal tone. “I would like that very much.”

“I thought I could officially propose to you then,” Michael says.

“Oh? I thought you had already proposed?”

“Not officially. Like, where’s your ring?”

“All right. I’ll agree to that.”

After dinner, Michael clears the table as I start a fire. We’ve agreed that he’ll be sleeping down here, and I don’t want him to be cold. I spread sheets onto the couch and fetch a few extra blankets.

“You think you’ll sleep okay here?” I ask.

He yawns. “I’m certain. I can sleep anywhere.”

“The shower is upstairs. I’ll let you shower first in the morning.” Though I really wish we could shower together.

“What time do you rise?” Michael asks.

He’s so proper, and even more so when he’s tired, it seems. It’s completely absorbing listening to him speak. “Tomorrow I only have lunch planned with your mother and then I work in the evening. So I don’t think I’ll be up until eight or so. You?”

Michael yawns. “Excuse me. I have a meeting tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. downtown Portland, so I’ll be needing to get up around 7:00 a.m.”

I show him where the towels are next to the bathroom and then I close the door to my room. I open my laptop and there’s an email from Michael to Samantha.

Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you all day. Something came up, so I couldn’t make it tonight, but I plan to be there tomorrow. Will you be there?

Michael

I hit reply. Should I try to reject him?

Dear Michael,

You don’t need to explain to me where you have been, but I do appreciate the email. And though we did have a great time in the sanctuary, I don’t date men I meet at work.

Sincerely Samantha

I hit send. I’m surprised when only a few minutes later I receive a reply. He must be sending me an email from his phone!

Dear Samantha,

I know your policy, and I do respect that you have set standards. However, I must ask you to reconsider. I have never felt passion for anyone like I felt for you, and I would go to great lengths to make you a very happy woman.

Michael

I scowl. All right, Scarlett, plan A isn’t working. Time to ramp up the competition and get rid of the stripper! I close the laptop, set my alarm to ten minutes to seven and curl up in my bed.

Next morning, I wake up to my alarm at ten till seven. I shuffle to the bathroom and turn the shower to hot. Once the steam has built up, I undress and hop in. I hear Michael’s alarm go off just as I hop out of the shower and I wrap myself in a small towel. I check myself out in the mirror to make sure I look as sexy as I intend, and then I open the bathroom door.

Michael meets me at the door. His hair is messy and he’s wearing boxer briefs and a white t-shirt. I can barely get myself to formulate a sentence. Concentrate Scarlett! Keep your head in the game!

I think I see his eyes pop open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

I pretend that I’m startled and almost drop my towel. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” I say. “I couldn’t sleep for some reason.”

His eyes are hungry on my nude, wet skin. Our eyes connect, and I see that he wants me. It’s the same look he has when he’s watching Samantha dance at The Black Chapel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he averts his eyes and I try to squeeze past him in the tight doorway. I intentionally brush my skin against his and he takes my hand. My heart starts racing because I want him so badly. He looks into my eyes, as if studying them, and then he kisses me lightly on the lips. But then he drops my hand, continues into the bathroom and closes the door.

Ugh! My plan has failed and I feel completely rejected. He doesn’t want me. He wants the sleazy stripper.

I try to brush it off and get dressed in a hurry. Michael comes out fully dressed fifteen minutes later and I’m just finishing up breakfast.

“Some bagels with cream cheese before you head out?” I ask.

“No thanks, I’ll just pick up some donuts on the way.” And he’s gone without word of when I’ll be meeting him next.

I call Anne right away, because I’ve come completely undone.

“Hello,” Anne says.

“Hi, it’s me, your friend who should have listened to your advice, but didn’t,” I say.

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

I breathe heavily. “He’s in love with the stripper. I tried to seduce him, me, Scarlett, but he rejected me.”

“Well, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

I tell her in detail exactly what I did and what happened.

“Oh, yeah, that’s pretty bad,” Anne says.

“What do I do?”

“You must cut all contact between Samantha and Mr. Manning. Don’t return his emails. Don’t talk unnecessarily to him. He’ll get the hint.”

“But Laila wants me to entertain him in the Sanctuary,” I say.

“Well, that is tricky. Okay, can you do a good job on stage, but do a poor job in the Sanctuary? She can’t fault you for failing in the Sanctuary, because she hasn’t trained you,” Anne says.

“That’s a lot harder than it sounds,” I say.

“I know, but you learn through trial and error. Just see the billion and a half dollar deal through, and then you’ll never have to meet him again. You
have
to detach, Scarlett. Drop him like a bad habit.”

It’s not what I want to happen, but I’m all too aware that I can’t control the outcome. “Ok, I’ll try.”

“There is no try,” Anne says, impersonating Yoda.

I laugh. “Thanks. I’m sorry I called to complain.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

I drive to my dad’s to check on him. When I arrive, he is in the lounge playing bingo with a group of elderly guys.

“Hi, Dad,” I say.

“Scarlett. What a pleasant surprise.”

I nearly begin to cry when I see him. His skin looks so gray, and though his lips are smiling, I can see the pain behind his eyes.

“Last time I visited, you were sleeping,” I say.

“Yes, the nurse told me. Want to join us?”

“No. I have a lunch appointment. I just wanted to stop by to see if there was anything I could get for you.”

“Nah. I’m fine,” my dad says. “How’s the house?”

“It’s great,” I say.

“Did you put up any Christmas lights yet?”

“No.” I feel guilty.

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always next year. You know, now that I think of it, maybe you can get me something.”

“Yes?”

“You know the portrait you painted of your mother?”

“Yes.”

“I miss seeing that. Would you bring that to me?”

I smile. “Yes, of course.”

I leave the assisted living facility, and Michael texted me his mom’s address on my way over. He mentions nothing of kissing me. I decide to ignore it and head to Diane’s house ready for a battle. I end up in front of some seriously towering gates. It’s like Maleficent castle, only modernized.

“Hi, this is Scarlett here to see Mrs. Manning,” I say into the intercom. The gates slowly open and I drive up what feels like a mile-long driveway and park my car in the courtyard. This family is wealthy, holy Moses. A man dressed in a suit comes out and greets me.

“I’m Rory. Mrs. Manning has been expecting you. It’s a pleasure to have you here. May I escort you inside?”

I nod, because I might get lost if I take on this castle myself. I follow Rory up the stairs, through a long, wide hallway and we enter a bedroom the size of a tennis court. Diane is resting in bed with tubes attached to her. She looks weaker than she did the first time I saw her. Cancer is a horrible disease.

“Come here and sit down, girl,” she says.

I do as I’m told right away. I don’t want to get on her bad side, which now that I think about it, I think I already am. “How are you today Mrs. Manning?” I manage to say.

“Oh, I’ve been better. But let’s not waste time and talk about me. I need to see who my son has chosen to marry.” She peers over her thin-rimmed glasses and scowls.

I smile, but it’s hard to pretend everything is fine when my heart is thumping like a rabbit’s leg.

“So I assume Michael has told you all there is to know about our family and the situation you’re getting yourself into?” Diane says.

“Well, he’s told me a lot about the family, but maybe not so much the situation I’m getting into,” I say. Is there more?

“I too was once wide-eyed and naïve like you.” Diane leans back into her white down pillow. “But now, I ‘ve been through so much that I really would rather not stay in this world too much longer.”

“I’m sorry to hear,” I say. I decide just to listen, because I want to know every minute detail of this man and his family that I’m marrying, even if it is for only a few short weeks.