Hi guys just a quick update. Sorry it's not very long, but a longer one will be up tomorrow. I've been really busy lately. Hope your all enjoying.
Chapter 3 – Part 1
Madison is ecstatic.
"But what was she doing at Clayton's?" Her curiosity oozes through the phone. I'm in the depths of the stock room, trying to keep my voice casual.
"She was in the area."
"I think that is one huge coincidence, Spencer. You don't think she was there to see you?" she speculates. My heart lurches at the prospect, but it's a short-lived joy. The dull, disappointing reality is that she was here on business.
"She was visiting the farming division of SFU. She's funding some research," I mutter.
"Oh yes. She's given the department a $2.5 million grant."
Wow.
"How do you know this?"
"Spencer, I'm a journalist, and I've written a profile on the girl. It's my job to know this."
"Okay, Carla Bernstein, keep your hair on. So do you want these photos?"
"Of course I do. The question is, who's going to do them and where."
"We could ask her where. She says she's staying in the area."
"You can contact her?"
"I have her cell phone number."
Maddy gasps. "The richest, most elusive, most enigmatic bachlorette in California just gave you her cell phone number?"
"Er…yes."
"Spencer! She likes you. No doubt about it." Her tone is emphatic.
"Maddy, she's just trying to be nice." But even as I say the words, I know they're not true – Ashley Davies doesn't do nice. She does polite, maybe. And a small quiet voice whispers, perhaps Maddy is right. My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, she might like me. After all, she did say she was glad Maddy didn't do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that she might like me for one brief moment. Maddy brings me back to the now.
"I don't know who we'll get to do the shoot. Levi, our regular photographer, can't. He's home in Idaho Falls for the weekend. He'll be pissed that he blew an opportunity to photo one of America's entrepreneurs."
"Hmm… What about Carmen?"
"Great idea! You ask her – she'll do anything for you. Then call Davies and find out where she wants us." Maddy is irritatingly cavalier about Carmen.
"I think you should call her."
"Who, Carmen?" Maddy scoffs.
"No, Davies."
"Spencer, you're the one with the relationship."
"Relationship?" I squeak at her, my voice raising several octaves. "I barely know the girl."
"At least you've met her," she says bitterly.
"And it looks like she wants to know you better. Spencer just call her," she snaps and hangs up. She is so bossy sometimes. I frown at my cell, sticking my tongue out at it.
I'm just leaving a message for Carmen when Paul enters the stock room looking for sandpaper.
"We're kind of busy out there, Spence," he says without acrimony.
"Yeah, um, sorry," I mutter, turning to leave.
"So, how come you know Ashley Davies?" Paul's voice is unconvincingly nonchalant.
"I had to interview her for our student newspaper. Maddy wasn't well." I shrug, trying to sound casual and doing no better than him.
"Ashley Davies in Clayton's. Go figure," Paul snorts, amazed. He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Anyway, want to grab a drink or something this evening?"
Whenever he's home he asks me on a date, and I always say no. It's a ritual. I've never considered it a good idea to date the boss's brother, and besides, Paul is cute in a wholesome all-American boy-next-door kind of way, but he's no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is Ashley? My subconscious asks me, her eyebrow figuratively raised. I slap her down.
"Don't you have a family dinner or something for your brother?"
"That's tomorrow."
"Maybe some other time, Paul. I need to study tonight. I have my finals next week."
"Spencer, one of these days you'll say yes," he smiles as I escape out to the store floor.
"But I do places, Spencer, not people," Carmen groans.
"Carmen, please" I beg. Clutching my cell, I pace the living area of our apartment, staring out of the window at the fading evening light.
"Give me that phone." Madison grabs the handset from me, tossing her silken brunette hair over her shoulder.
"Listen here, Carmen Mendez, if you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your show, you'll do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?" Maddy can be awesomely tough.
"Good. Spencer will call back with the location and the call time. We'll see you tomorrow." She snaps my cell phone shut.
"Sorted. All we need to do now is decided where and when. Call her." She holds the phone out to me. My stomach twists.
"Call Davies, now!"
I scowl at her and reach into my back pocket for her business card. I take a deep, steadying breath, and with shaking fingers, I dial the number.
She answers on the second ring. Her tone is clipped, calm and cold.
"Davies."
"Err…Ms Davies? It's Spencer Carlin." I don't recognise my own voice, I'm so nervous. There's a brief pause. Inside I'm quaking.
"Miss Carlin. How nice to hear from you." Her voice has changed. She's surprised, I think, and she sounds so… warm – seductive even. My breath hitches, and I flush. I'm suddenly conscious that Madison Duarte is starting at me, her mouth open, and I dart into the kitchen to avoid her unwanted scrutiny.
"Err – we'd like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the article." Breathe, Spencer, breathe. My lungs drag in a hasty breath. "Tomorrow, if that's okay. Where would be convenient for you, Miss?"
I can almost hear her sphinx-like smile through the phone.
"I'm staying at the Lodge. Shall we say, nine thirty tomorrow morning?"
"Okay, we'll see you there." I am all gushing and breathy – like a child, not a grown woman who can vote and drink legally.
"I look forward to it, Miss Carlin." I visualise the wicked gleam in her dark eyes. How can she make seven little words hols so much tantalising promise? I hang up. Maddy is in the kitchen, and she's staring at me with a look of complete and utter consternation on her face.
"Spencer Marie Carlin. You like her! I've never seen or heard you so, so… affected by anyone before. You're actually blushing."
"Oh Maddy, you know I blush all the time. It's an occupational hazard with me. Don't be so ridiculous," I snap. She blinks at me with surprise – I very rarely throw my toys out of the pram – and I briefly relent. "I just find her…. Intimidating, that's all."
"Lodge, that figures," mutters Maddy. "I'll give the manager a call and negotiate space for the shoot."
"I'll make supper. Then I need to study." I cannot hide my irritation with her as I open one of the cupboards to make supper.
I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of smoky dark eyes, coveralls, long legs, polished fingers, and dark, dark unexplored places. I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding. Oh, I'm going to look just great tomorrow with so little sleep, I scold myself. I punch my pillow and try to settle.
The Lodge is nestled in the downtown heart of San Francisco. Its impressive brown stone edifice was completed just in time for the crash of the late 1920s. Carmen, Lola and I are travelling in my Beetle, and Maddy is in her CLK, since we can't all fit in my car. Lola is Carmen's friend and gopher, here to help out with the lighting. Maddy has managed to acquire the use of a rook at the Lodge free of charge for the morning in exchange for a credit in the article. When she explains at reception that we're here to photograph Ashley Davies CEO, we are instantly upgraded to a suite. Just a regular-sized suite, however, as apparently Miss. Davies is already occupying the largest one in the building. An over-keen marketing executing shows us up to the suite – he's terrible young and very nervous for some reason. I suspect Maddy's beauty and commanding manner disarm him, because he's putty in her hands. The rooms are elegant, understated, and opulently furnished.
It's nine. We have half an hour to set up. Maddy is in full flow.
"Carmen, I think we'll shoot against that wall, do you agree?" she doesn't wait for his reply. "Lola, clear the chairs. Spencer, could you ask housekeeping to bring up some refreshments? And let Davies know where we are."
Yes, Mistress. She is so domineering. I roll my eyes, but do as I'm told.
Half an hour late, Ashley Davies walks into our suite.