Authors: Kim Carmichael
He was going to stop, tell Jason they needed to pack, they weren't prepared. Instead, he checked to make sure he had his wallet. "Let's go."
Chapter Sixteen
"Come, let me show you something." Dr. Dalton hooked his finger toward her.
Lauren licked her lips and glanced up at the store. Jacques. Too many hours of her life were consumed with walking in this store and thinking about the treasures inside. Last time she thought she was near this store she almost killed herself. She held her bag closer to her, silently apologizing to it and to herself.
"Come on, there's not one self respecting woman who isn't dying to walk in here with a bona fide MD by her side." He held his arm out.
Damn the man for being right. Her heartbeat sped up in warning. How many nights had she laid in bed and dreamed about Gregory M. Dalton, M.D. taking her in this store? The answer was a lot, but that was before. Before when she was alone and not the filling in the most delicious sandwich cookie on the planet. Unfortunately, only crumbs were left in the box. Hesitation didn't happen at this moment, but her feet didn't move.
"Lauren?"
She forced herself forward, hooked her arm in his, and smiled. Though she set her resolve not to think about Russell and Jason, she couldn't stop. The more she tried, the worse it became. She couldn't recall how many syringes she ordered for this man. Hell, she didn't remember what she had for dinner a half hour ago.
The door to the inner sanctum opened up to her with dinner and the introduction to some of his colleagues. Dr. Dalton even insisted they take a walk after their meal.
All she wanted to do was return to the hotel room.
Neither Russell nor Jason called her. Before she went down to the lobby to meet the doctor, she threw her phone on the far side of the bed. Now she regretted her actions, like she regretted a lot of things. What if they were trying to reach her? What if they weren't?
"Come on." He pulled the glass door open and guided her inside.
People spoke in hushed whispers in this store, as if it were a museum or a shrine. Several sales people stood at the ready, and the scent of leather and money swirled around her. She held him tighter for fear she would pass out.
Unable to focus, her attention darted between the jewelry, the belts, the scarves, even the fragrances. For the first time she entered with someone who belonged.
"I've been looking at these for quite awhile." Dr. Dalton's voice broke through her awe mixed with self-loathing. Maybe Russell didn't want to take her out in public, not because they were a trio, but because her life centered on this store.
She blinked and glanced down at a case of men's watches.
"What do you think of this one?" He pointed to one with a huge silver face and metal strap.
A salesman stealthed in and without a word took the timepiece out.
Dr. Dalton held the watch up. "Tell me, Lauren."
Jason would think the watch was for a pussy. He didn't even wear a watch. When he wanted to know the time, he looked at his phone or asked one of them. However, Russell did wear a watch, a big one with a leather strap. After she loosened his tie and he went to the bedroom, it was the third thing he dealt with after coming home. He took his wallet out of his pocket, emptied his front pocket of change, and took off the watch. "It's amazing."
"I collect them." He handed the watch back. "This is the brand, has been for years."
She nodded, her ears listening but her mind still running down Russell's habits. After the watch, he took off his shoes and then disappeared into the closet to change into jeans and a t-shirt or sweats. Russell changed clothes a lot. She smiled to herself. He used to wear sweats to bed, but now he wore only boxer briefs and those usually vanished.
On the other hand, Jason was not a clothes changer. He slept with nothing, woke up and changed into whatever costume he deemed appropriate for the day, and he stayed in that until it was time to be in nothing again. The only time he switched outfits was if he were in the studio painting or sculpting.
"Lauren?" Dr. Dalton leaned into her field of vision.
Her heart jumped and she braced herself on the counter. "The watch is amazing."
"You said that." He reached forward and put his finger on her lower lip. "I think I know why you're pouting."
"Pouting?" Her lip brushed against his fingertip, but the friction didn't create any heat.
"I know what you want to see." He waved to the salesman. "Let us see one of the Valerie bags."
Warmth engulfed her body, but she still froze.
"Sir, we don't have any here." The man lifted his chin.
She exhaled, not sure if the calm that overtook her was disappointment or relief.
Dr. Dalton shook his head, reached into his pocket and handed the man a hundred dollar bill. "I'm sure this will cover the cost of a little window shopping."
She opened her mouth, raised her hand, anything to stop this.
The man looked between the bill, her and Dr. Dalton. "She will have to come to the back." He snatched the money.
"Let's just take a look." Dr. Dalton put his hand on her shoulder and guided her away.
In dreams, or nightmares, things always moved at a surreal pace, either superfast or horribly slow. The walk to the back of Jacques store wasn't the red carpet she dreamed up. It was the nightmare of a slow trek to her execution.
The salesman led them into a gilded private room with two chairs and a table. He went behind a secret door and reappeared carrying a huge lime green box. With much flourish, he put it on the table, took off the top and unveiled the most sought after handbag in the world.
"You have fifteen minutes." He handed the bag to Dr. Dalton and left.
"The first one you buy is never one right out of the store. You need to order it, get the color you want, the material you want." Dr. Dalton approached and looped the strap over her shoulder. "Everything should be custom." He put his hand on her chin and tilted her face up to his.
Dr. Dalton not only presented her with the bright red Valerie bag, he also handed her the chance she waited for, planned for. She stared up at him. For three years she imagined this. The moment where a doctor would notice her, realize she could be the one. She would be the perfect doctor's wife, she trained for this career, sales was only the detour.
"I've always noticed you, but I wasn't ready." He leaned down, his eyes taking her all in, studying her. "You have very proportionate features."
Jason told her she looked like a painting. Russell rarely commented on her appearance, but since they were together he would take time out to look at her, stop what he was doing, put his hand on her cheek and give her a nod. He didn't need words.
"Yes." Dr. Dalton moved his face closer, his breath brushing against her lips. "Very proportionate."
"Is that a good thing?" With his mouth less than two inches away from hers, she stiffened as if she were preparing herself for a shot rather than the kiss that seemed eminent.
"It is what everyone wants, what surgeons strive to give their patients." He took her chin and turned her face one way, then the other. "Beauty is all proportion and perception. With a tiny bit of help, you would be magnificent."
Sweat broke over her body giving her icy hot chills. The strange moment before the drug took effect. "Help?"
"A little tweaking to give you the edge. You know the drill. You start out at suits bought at discount store at the mall and work your way up to designer section at the department store."
Right now her body may have well been pumped full of Novocain, everything was numb.
"Then you make your first few commission checks and get yourself the watch, the jewelry, the shoes. The little signals to let us know you are moving up." He ran his hand over her bracelet.
Jason went with her the day she bought the designer cuff and asked more than once why she wanted the one all her co-workers owned while Russell shrugged his shoulders.
"Now you are in a holding pattern to go to the next level." He smiled, perfect lips showing off perfect teeth. "This is what you wanted all along, since the first time you stepped into my office in your buy one get one free suit. The bag, the Botox, and the baby."
He knew the drill down to the buckle on her shoe. "But…"
"It's a give and take. Don't worry about me. In return I get the secretary and the siren." He kept hold of her chin and kissed her.
His kiss started as a light peck, but his lips softened, his mouth opened, and before his tongue got anywhere near hers all sensation came back to her body. Painful prickles of reality, no heat, no stomach drops and she stepped back.
"Oh, something unexpected." He licked his lips. "I like that."
"I have to be at the show early tomorrow." The pressure behind her eyes told her some unexpected tears wanted to escape. She unhooked herself from the handbag and handed it back.
He put the bag on the table. "I'm sure I bought enough filler to fill the Hoover Dam. It’s Friday night in Las Vegas."
"I really need to be there." Her heart beat in protest and she put her hand to her chest. It wanted the impossible, while her mind screamed for her to be practical.
The salesman returned.
"As I said, I wasn't ready before, but I always caught your signals. Maybe back in Beverly Hills we'll do more than test drive the bag." He nodded at the man and took her arm. "I rarely get this kind of break from the office. We need to take advantage of these times when we have them. You'll get used to it, this is what you wanted."
She came to Las Vegas and hit the jackpot. All she needed to do was collect her winnings. "This is what I wanted."
***
"Did you know you can't get into someone's hotel room if you are not on the register?" Jason hit Russell on the shoulder.
Russell held up one finger and continued to fiddle with his phone.
"The man at the counter gave me a look like I was a mass murderer or something. I wish I would have got a lady, she would have succumbed to my charms." He leaned over to watch Russell type a text to Lauren simply saying to call him when she got this. "That's good, that's like girl narcotics." He pointed at the screen.
Russell hit send. "What do you mean?"
"You offered no explanation as to why to call her, didn't tell her we were here, she will have no choice but to call, she won't be able to take it. In fact, I will do the same. We will double do her." Jason got his phone, typed the exact same message and laughed. "Well, we already double do her, but I give her five minutes before she comes running."
"Don't you think it’s odd she didn't answer the twenty times we called?" Russell shoved his phone in his pocket.
Jason shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Yes, he did find it odd, especially for the woman who slept with her phone as if it were a bizarre teddy bear. "Maybe there's a bad cell site where she is." As the words exited his mouth, he didn't even believe them. When stuck with a substandard site, Lauren would walk out at least every fifteen minutes and they both would have received texts, emails and calls telling them about the cell site or lack thereof.
He stepped away and watched the people in the lobby, men and women together, a group of girlfriends, a bunch of guys with jerseys on. If Lauren would have taken them, they could have spent the weekend in Vegas and with inspiration. The lights in the lobby seemed to blare down on him. Right now, he couldn't create one of these gaudy bejeweled faux art pieces that hung all over this over designed monstrosity of a hotel.
He stomped back to Russell. "This is your fault."
"We've already established that." Russell crossed his arms.
He opened his mouth wanting to continue.
"She's either busy with an account or punishing us, I mean me." Russell glanced down at his watch. "She's probably at dinner, I'll buy you a drink, and we'll figure out how to find her without modern technology."
"Fine." Without a choice, Jason followed him out of the lobby through the casino to one of the bars.
"Look, you'll like this place." Russell took his position on one of the stools.
"Why is that?" Jason sat next to him.
"Look at the pretty art." Russell swiped his arm in front of himself as if presenting the art.
He scanned the dark area, strategically lit in hues of purple, fuchsia and cobalt. Cut outs in the walls revealed manufactured sculptures designed to be edgy and cool, and therefore were not either of those things to the trained eye. The faux house music pounded, and the place was starting to get packed. "I'd rather go to the jazz club." Lauren loved those types of places.
Somehow he was sure she would text or call him back. Now he was stuck with an uncomfortable rock lodged somewhere between his chest and his stomach. "Whatever."
The bartender approached, placing two cobalt napkins in front of them and a bowl of mixed nuts.
"Two bourbons neat." Russell ordered for them.
Jason turned to him. "Asshole."
"What?"