Disclaimer: Still not seeing a cent pass my palm, as it should be. JE owns anyone and anything you recognize.
I deem this to be Beta appreciation day, and so would like to thank the group for doing such a fantastic job for keeping me on track.
Nothing But Time On My Hands
Chapter 27
by Alfonsina
I got a call from the store half an hour before closing time. A woman had shown up with a rolling clothing rack of designer clothing stating she had some items for me to approve. Ronny said she kept returning to her car for more items. He said I needed to get there before she took over all the available surfaces in the store and turned his store into a high-end boutique.
When I got to Fairy Godmother's, a very trendy woman was waiting for me. She looked like she shouldn't wander the candle section or she might hurt herself. Actually she looked like Ronny trying to flirt with her might hurt her, too. She might have been trendy, but she was also just a wee bit uptight.
"Bertha, Bertha Luna. It's nice to meet you. It is Ms. Plum, isn't it?" she asked with a wide smile.
"Yes, Stephanie actually."
It turned out that she shopped for a living. Why hadn't I thought of that? It sounded like a slice of heaven to me. In the long run maybe that would be a better career choice.
"There have been a number of pieces pre-selected for you to choose from. You may try them on at home, here or we can go to my office. I will be handling any alterations and all of your selections. If you don't find anything in today's choices, we are to go shopping together until you find something to your taste."
Oh God. This was the kind of stuff that was in the really glossy magazines that no one could afford to buy much less wear. And yet there were no less than forty dresses, maybe thirty pairs of shoes. There were even things that would have made Victoria keep a new secret. All the items were presented for my perusal and potential approval.
"This is all gonna be rented, right? I mean, I'll never have the opportunity to wear it again," I said crossing my fingers. The clothes and accessories were too pretty for a distraction and I never went anyplace that was all that nice. It would be a shame to see them sitting in the closet unworn years after this dinner was over.
"No. Whatever you choose will be yours to keep. Prices have been removed from all the articles so that you can make a selection based strictly on what you like not cost."
"Have you met him?" I asked Bertha.
She said with a smile, "This was set up by the friend of a friend of a friend. I was just told which items to bring, where and when."
Great. No help here.
"Anything you can tell me at all?"
"Just that you get to be a princess for one night with no cares and no worries," she said. "Sweetie, if you don't absolutely love something, I'll shop for or with you until we find just the perfect thing. It's what I do."
Three hours later, I had tried on everything once and the pieces I really thought flattered me two or three times. I finally chose on a black wrap dress that had cap sleeves and a kind of sweetheart neckline and it wrapped around my body making my curves look better than they did on their own. The tag read Michael Koors. All I knew about him was that he was expensive and was a judge on some reality TV show.
The shoes were conservative for me; black leather with minute straps crossing the toes and wrapping around my foot. The shoes were utter perfection with the dress. It was a shame the weather was changing because they could easily become my favorite shoes.
I chose a simple, black cashmere shawl to go with the dress. I didn't have any coats that would go with the dress and the dress by itself was not going to keep me warm on the drive home.
The underwear I selected was gorgeous and had very shear black lace with insets; the fabric couldn't have been finer unless it had been made from a spider web. To achieve the maximum sultry effect, I was going to need a full Brazilian. I wanted to feel sexy from the skin out and this was the only set that could do that for me. The other choices were pretty, but this set was exquisite. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, so I accepted it.
The day after I picked out the clothing, Ronny sent me a text that I had an after hours palm reading to do at the Wrong Number. Someone named Kip was in turmoil and thought I'd be able to help him make a decision. I had no plans, so it suited me just fine.
I got to the Wrong Number and saw Woody, Morgan and Ram having a beer. I pulled up a chair joined them at their table while I waited for my 6:45 appointment.
"So are you ready for Samhain and the festival?" Morgan asked me but she was smiling at Woody.
"Not really. I'm ready to get candy fifty percent off the day after Halloween, but not so sure about Samhain. Something I need to know about?" I asked her.
"Great rite," Woody said softly.
"Oh. OH," I said emphatically shaking my head. "Nope. No. Not doing it. I don't even know if I'll make the festival." Now I was sure I really didn't want to be around any additional sexual chemistry.
"You have to come. I've got a bunch of people who want to start exchanging time with you. You'll extend all your contacts. It'll be great," Morgan said.
Morgan's eyes were shining. I wasn't sure if it was because of the festival itself or the after party. Since she and Woody had gotten together, things had moved pretty quickly for the two of them.
"You never know who you might meet," Ram said.
Ram's cell rang calling him to a client emergency. Some days are long just by the very nature of the business.
Someone with a basket of cookies headed to the bar looking for a signature. The bartender pointed her in our direction.
Sure enough, it was for me: To Palmist from Café Ole
The note inside said:
Palmist,
Just like I promised, I didn't send flowers, but I needed
a way to get this to you.
Enclosed is a certificate for day spa treatments. I didn't
know what you liked so I decided to let you choose any
or all.
You will be picked up Friday evening at the location of
your choosing.
Please call the number on the business card to tell the
driver where to meet you.
I am looking forward to Halloween evening.
CO
You always have two choices: your commitment versus your fear.
Sammy Davis, Jr.
He'd even enclosed my fee for the reading that didn't happen. Just like old times. Shit. This was real and it was going to happen and I wasn't ready, not at all. Shit. Shit. Shit.
"What's going on, Steph? You've lost all your coloring," Woody said.
"An unexpected gift," I said.
I thought I'd had some control, I mean just a little bit. Now I'm supposed to go to the spa all day to get primped by someone else just to meet this guy? I had my own primping plans, thank you very much. I'm not dense, I mean the clothes told me I wasn't going to go to McDonalds and a lot nicer than TGI Friday's, but this was really pushing my buttons. Frankly it was scaring the hell out of me. I was also pissed off because it seemed like he was exerting control.
Woody looked at me, picked up my hand and let it go like he'd been singed.
"You are not OK, not at all. Morgan, can you go to the car and get the small bag out of the back. Steph needs something from it."
"I can just get whatever it is and bring that, right?"
"No. She's all messed up and I can't get a good read on her. We're going to need to test a bunch of things," he said.
Woody took both of my hands and had me close my eyes before our foreheads touched. Instantly I became calm and quiet. I didn't realize my breathing had been erratic until it calmed and evened out again.
Morgan came back in and put her hands on my shoulders and an even bigger wave of calm came over me. Eventually she removed her hands from my shoulders and opened the bag.
Woody started pulling things out of the bag saying, "No. Not that one. Nope. Not that either. Where the hell is it? I know it's in here somewhere. I just can't find it. Steph, put your hand in and see if you can feel something looking for you."
"What do you mean?"
"You know how you put your hand over the baskets when you chose stones for yourself or for a client?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, "what's that got to do with this?"
"You need something that is in here and I can't tell what it is. In order for me to get you grounded, I lost my own center. It'll be back, but we've got to fix you now. I mean I've felt you seriously out of whack before, but this was extreme even for you."
"Sure," I said. It felt almost like a compliment. I'd seen him bring some people back to center who were way out there before, so I must have been way, way out.
I opened the bag and started to run my hand over the various items. I had my eyes closed and I said, "Tell Ranger to sit down, I'm not ready to deal with him yet."
"Steph, he hasn't even walked all the way through the door yet," he said.
"She's getting good," Morgan said. "She'll be up there with Marsha soon if she keeps working."
I didn't want to become Mary Poppins. It isn't my life's ambition to go where the wind blows me. No, I want a little more stability than that, at least short term.
I kept my eyes closed even as I could feel Ranger crossing the room. I held up a finger on my left hand as I continued to run my right hand an inch or so over the stones and other items. My hand finally settled on a ring that had silver, copper and gold braided through it.
"Most people need that more than they think," Morgan said to me.
"Why?"
"Gold is masculine and silver is feminine, the copper kind of binds the two together," she said.
"Take 'em out," Woody said to me.
"What?"
"The stones in your bra. You've burned them out. You haven't been charging them again, have you?" Woody asked.
"No. I forget," I said.
I was tired and had a long day so I stuck my right hand into the left side of my bra and began to remove stones. Then I changed hands and removed stones from the other side. When I was done there was a large pile in the middle of the table.
"Babe," Ranger said, lips twitching, "more rocks in your bra?"
"Well, it's cheaper than therapy," I sighed. I hadn't even noticed that he was sitting next to me.
"Morgan, remind me to put these in salt water at home tonight," Woody said.
"Guys, I'm going to get out of here. Woody and Morgan, thanks for keeping me company," I said. "Night Ranger."
"Babe, let me walk you out," he said as he put his hand on my shoulder.
I knew better than to argue, he steered me out the door and towards my car.
"What got you so rattled in there?" he asked.
"I feel like an idiot," I said. "I'm just overreacting."
"Not more flowers?"
"No. No more flowers, this time it was cookies and a gift certificate," I said. I didn't need to say whom it was from, he'd already figured that out.
"Cookies are worse than flowers?" he asked with an attempt at seriousness.
"No. It's just that I am out of my depth and am feeling a little exposed. It's like he knows everything about me and I know nothing about him, not really. I'm feeling like I'm being set up."
"You probably know more than you think," he said softly.
"Can you tell me anything about what you've found out?" I asked. I mean it was the eleventh hour, but still I'd like to know something.
"Babe, he's been all about cash transactions. People remember getting cash for deliveries and purchases, but nothing has been delivered by the same service twice and never from the same address. The only thing Café Ole Inc. has ever done, from what we can see, is pay your internet and phone bills. There's not been a lot to track. Even the e-mails come from various locations. Wish I could tell you more," he said a little sadly.
"Thanks," I mumbled.
"Is there anything else you want or need to tell me? Do you need to call something off?" he asked sounding concerned.
"No. It's going to be fine."
"Do you want me to drive you home?" he asked.
"No. Like I said, it's all going to be fine."
I got home and checked e-mail, nothing. I sent one that was short and sweet.
"I got the cookies and the spa certificate. Thanks. It affected me in ways you'll probably never know."
I figured that way I'd said thanks and didn't say 'you are beginning to creep me out' but he would know that it had a definite impact.
xx
I made a phone call to the spa to book appointments for Thursday and Friday. I looked at the undies I was going to wear with the dress and decided I'd do the Brazilian wax first and get it over with. My skin's kind of sensitive and that skin is very sensitive, best to let it have as much time as possible to heal. The certificate was good for any and all spa services so I made a day of it. I booked a full body massage, mani-pedi with hot wax, facial, plus hair and make up treatments.
I also called the number on the bottom of the card to arrange for the driver. He told me that he would need an hour and a half to get me to my final destination, but wouldn't tell me where that might be. Ultimately I gave him my home address for the pickup, it was a one-time deal and it wasn't as though my 'friend' was going to see my humble digs.
I decided that I wasn't going to spend the rest of the time worrying about anything, I was going to bring in Ray Butler if it was the last thing I was going to do. Besides, looking for him I wouldn't need to think about the pending wax job. Why don't men have to sacrifice for beauty?
xx
I had been following Ray Butler around town for the better part of a week, trying to get him to ensure my November rent would be paid. He'd been caught trying to make change in the collection plate at church without first making a charitable contribution. He tried to make change after hours, after the money had been counted and was ready to be deposited in the Church's general fund.
My friend from high school, Marissa Schoen, worked for the bank Ray Butler used for his personal funds. I had called her earlier to ask if she saw any funny deposits on his behalf. She called me when he got in her teller line.
To sum up, Marissa got the money for the police to use as evidence, I got muddied knees and Mr. Butler got a trip to the cop shop. It was a good thing I'd decided to have a manicure Friday; I broke three nails when I caught him by the belt loops. What can I say, denim can be pretty tough stuff.
xx
Thursday morning, with more than a little trepidation, I drove myself to the day spa to become a better me. Had I realized it was going to take two women to hold me down during the waxing trauma, I might have just shaved with a new blade. There are just some places where that much pain should never be inflicted. I hadn't come out of the haze when I realized I was getting my legs, pits and eyebrows waxed, too. I can't believe I did this voluntarily. I should've asked Bobby for a sedative before I started out this morning. The pain might have been the same but I wouldn't have cared about it.
I felt the aftershocks for hours and walked funny most of the rest of the day. I ran into Erik on the street. He asked if I'd been in a fight or something.
"Not exactly, I'll be fine. Promise."
"As long as you're OK," he said.
By the end of Friday I had that new car glow and shine about me. I'd been waxed, buffed, cleaned, oiled, repainted and felt like I even had new tires under me. One of these days I was going to have to come up with more romantic comparisons, but I don't drive a new car often and think they're pretty darned special. All I needed was the pine-scented doohickeys to wear around my neck and I'd be perfection itself.
I got home with barely enough time to put on all the new clothes. I looked like a very high-end version of me when I got done. The hair and makeup still let me look like me, but better. I looked very polished and refined. The dress definitely wasn't something I would've used for a distraction. It was timeless, likely if I kept my shape, it would work for me for the next twenty or more years. Even though I knew I wasn't planning to have sex, the undies were the kind of thing I would buy if I ever got married again; they said nasty in all the right ways.
I spent a lot of time considering what should go in the purse. I had selected a sleek black clutch but realized it wasn't going to hold any of the necessities. Just the week before, I had found a purse holster on E-Bay from Galco that would hide my little .38 S & W. It wasn't my Ram approved Detonics, but it was small and easily concealable. The gun fit in a hidden compartment and the rest of the purse looked like a purse, maybe a little wider but not by much. Besides, if I spilled the contents of my bag, the gun would remain safely hidden.
I put in the standard operating necessities for the evening: lipstick, cell phone (charged), hanky, comb, ID, pepper spray, credit card, fifty dollars cash and two condoms. I wasn't planning for anything, but you never know and better to be safe.
At exactly 7:00 there was a knock on my door. I opened it to somebody who looked like he was twelve. Ok, so maybe that's an exaggeration, but not by much. It didn't look like he was old enough to shave yet. He was so short I didn't think he'd be to see over the steering wheel without sitting on a phone book. I was really feeling my age, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been carded and this kid didn't look old enough to have a 'card' yet. It was too much to ask for a copy of his driver's license, copy of his birth certificate and a note from his mother allowing him to be out late, but the idea crossed my mind.
"Ms. Plum are you ready?" he asked.
"Yes. As ready as I am going to be." I said.
I gathered my purse, keys, shawl and a small box and was escorted to the elevator.
"What's your name," I asked.
"You can call me Hank," he said.
"That really your name?" I asked.
"No, but it'll work for tonight," he said.
Great, he was just what I needed; another smart-ass.
"I was told not to give you any details. Hank was the first name that came to mind," he said with a shrug.
Terrific.
I tried to keep up the small talk on the way to the parking lot. It didn't work. Evidently 'Hank' thought everything was a detail even his opinion on the weather. This had the makings of a long night or at least for a long drive. God I hope he isn't my date.
"Can you tell me where we're going?" I tried again.
"Nope."
This kid could work for Rangeman. He was perfecting the one word answer and stepping on my raw nerves all at the same time.
When we got to the parking lot, I couldn't help but notice the stretch limousine. It was the kind of thing that they used for bachelorette parties or state funerals. I'd never been in one before, it conjured up images of limo sex and all sorts of fun adult pursuits, not that I had any first hand knowledge of that.
"Are we picking anyone else up?" I asked hoping this car ride wouldn't be just the two of us at our conversational best.
"It's just you, Ms. Plum," he said. "Do you need anything before I raise the privacy glass?"
"Music maybe?" I asked. I was hoping for heavy metal to soothe my nerves but instead found myself listening to Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and other sorted crooners. It was making me think of Grandma and her comments about Cary Grant, this music fit that era, but I had a feeling when I got wherever I was going, Cary Grant wouldn't be on the other side of the door. With my luck I'd be driven around for more than an hour and delivered to a homeless shelter or soup kitchen.
In the over an hour and change I was alone with the ancient crooners, I examined pretty much every detail of the inside of the limo I could because the TV didn't work. I counted the number of stitches in the seams of the seats. I tried to figure out how old the bottles of liquor were; I mean were they really that old or were they being topped off regularly? Were the little crystal tumblers real crystal or just pressed glass? Left to my own devises I would probably have checked under the floor mats to see how well it had last been vacuumed, but it was too dark to see much, even with the extra lighting.
I spent much of the ride looking for ways to shut down my brain without getting into the liquor, I thought it was best to keep control of my faculties. I tried not to play the whole "The Bachelorette" TV show in my brain, trying to figure out who this man of mystery was. I didn't want to worry about what anything might mean or what was going on. I really should have put a Tastykake or something in my purse to calm my nerves. I needed some sugar and I was going to need it soon and hadn't put one in my purse. I wanted to go straight to Denial Land and I was headed to Reality World, unprepared.
The car finally came to a stop and my door was opened. Hank offered me his hand and helped me out of the car.
"Are you allowed to tell me where I am now?"
"Welcome to Philadelphia, Ms. Plum. This is Le Bec Fin."
I'd heard about this place. I couldn't even afford the valet parking here and now I was supposed to eat here. I don't have enough table manners to use the ladies' room in a place like this much less actually have a meal with someone. I looked for an avenue of escape and saw none. I was screwed.
He pressed the buzzer by the door to gain my entrance. There was a little entranceway with a small counter so I could check in like a library book. One young woman took my shawl and hid it somewhere in the bowels of the building; another showed me to my table.
It reminded me of going to the museum with the girls. The place was elegant and sophisticated. It was opulent and lush. It was everything I wasn't and I still couldn't find a way to make an escape without first being detected or causing a scene. If I did escape, the shawl would be collateral damage; I'd never be able to find it and I'd never be able to afford to replace it.
I found myself escorted to a semi-private dining room at a largish table that had a number of roses placed next to a cut crystal vase. The room was devoid of anyone other than someone in uniform and me. At least no one would know that I had no idea which fork to use.
I was seated at the only chair at the table; I was to have my back to the door. I had been around Ranger long enough to know that was the most vulnerable chair in any room and I wanted to move it but didn't know how to say that without looking like a fool. I was alone in a room in an expensive restaurant and would probably be spending the evening by myself from the looks of things.
The young man in uniform, named Andreas, introduced himself as my 'captain'. This place was too fancy for waiters; they had 'captains'. Then the sommelier brought a wine list the size of a small-town phonebook. It had a metal doorknocker affixed to the leather cover. I already figured out they wouldn't have wine in a box, but some of these bottles rivaled the amount I spent in rent every month.
I was hoping I might recognize some or even any of the words in the wine list, I figured I wouldn't know what any of the names on the bottles meant, but I could recognize words like 'bouquet' and 'fruity'.
I had opened the wine list when Andreas said, "Before you begin, I've been asked to explain some things about these roses to you." He indicated the roses on the table and I just sort of nodded.
"The light pink rose represents admiration," he said as he put it in the vase.
Next he picked up the white rose and said, "You are revered for your innocence and humility."
I nodded as he put it in the vase. This was both painful and embarrassing. It was sort of like the flower a day ordeal but with roses in a public place. At least no one else was going to be witness to this.
"The yellow rose is in the hopes that you will have fond remembrances of this evening and that you will feel great joy at those memories."
I was still breathing, but it was shallow.
The dark pink rose went into the vase with the words, "Thank you for coming tonight. This has long been anticipated."
I nodded.
Finally an orange rose was put in the vase with the words, "You live your life with great enthusiasm, and it is hoped that you never let that fire burn out."
Andreas said there was one more flower for the arrangement, but that someone else would need to explain it. With that, Andreas placed a second chair at the table and left the room. I felt someone else come in.
A hand came from behind the chair and held a single red rose.
"The red rose represents love, desire and respect; all things I feel for you. Thank you for joining me tonight Stephanie," the familiar voice said.
A/N: So, now you have three or more guesses?? please review! alf.
