“Done!” I shout quickly.
“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”
I know Chris is just teasing, but it makes me feel like she secretly feels as hopeless about my chances of a normal life as I sometimes do.
“That’s encouraging.”
There is absolute silence for about ten seconds. I picture Chris’s eyes wide and her mouth hanging open and the words Oh shit! running through her head on a loop.
“That’s not…I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…”
“It’s all right. I’m just pickin’ on you,” I say lightly, trying to hide just how much her words hurt.
“Sam, I—”
“Hey, before I forget, I’m gonna need some awesome shoes that Laura Drake might wear to an evening function in Portland. Any suggestions?”
Talking shop, which is Chris’s second favorite thing in the world (sex being the first), is always a safe and effective way to change the subject.
“I do actually have the perfect shoe for you, but they go with the perfect dress. Package deal. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
I hesitate. “Nothing too…colorful, I hope.”
“Nothing Laura Drake can’t wear, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Then don’t. You’ll look beautiful.”
“Oh, I don’t think I need to worry about that either.”
“Would you stop doing that?” Chris snaps.
“Stop doing what?”
“Putting yourself down like that.”
“I wasn’t. I was just making a truthful comment. Nothing more.”
“It’s not truthful at all. You are beautiful, whether you see it or not. Everyone else does. How else would you have caught the eye of a hottie like Alec Brand?”
“I still wonder that very same thing.”
“Listen to what he’s not saying. You’ll be able to hear what he thinks of you loud and clear. I did and I’ve only seen you two together for a total of, what, ten minutes?”
“And just what, pray tell, do you think you ‘heard’?”
“All the standard things, of course. You’re hot, I wanna do you, yada yada yada. But I think the most interesting and important thing I picked up was that he thinks you’re different. I think he’s as surprised by you as you are by him.”
Her words make me happy. Too happy. They feel like validation because I, too, sometimes get that feeling. There’s something about the way Alec watches me. It’s like he’s puzzling over me, like he can’t quite figure me out. And I think, for a man like Alec, that’s a good thing. Being too standard and too easy to read would probably bore him. At least I hope so.
“I hope you’re right,” I say simply.
“Of course I’m right. When have you known me to be wrong?” she retorts, throwing my words back at me.
“Oh God!” I say, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see it. She giggles, which tells me she knows exactly what I just did.
********
Arriving as Laura Drake is always easier than departing as Laura Drake. Granted, I might take a little more care with my identity than what is necessary, but keeping Samantha Jansen and all her secrets out of the public eye is of utmost importance to me. It’s with this in mind that I battle Sunday airport traffic so I can fly in a day early. I hit the First Class lounge as soon as I arrive in Portland.
I spread my makeup bag on the vanity in front of the mirror and I begin applying eye shadow. I put a dark green on my lid and line my lower lashes with the gray, giving them a smoky look that I think perpetuates the image of Laura Drake, an image that is nothing like that of the fresh-faced, unremarkable Samantha Jansen.
A little blush and some crimson on my lips and I’m ready to don Laura’s smart-yet-sexy suit. Several minutes later, I stand once more in front of the mirror, pushing strands of dark red hair under the stocking that goes on before my wig. Once the silky black hair is in place, non-prescription glasses finish me off.
There is nothing left of Samantha Jansen looking back at me. It’s as though she ceases to exist entirely when Laura Drake is on stage.
Stuffing all remnants of Sam on top of Laura’s cosmetics, I close the zipper then throw the bag over my shoulder. I’m ready to face Portland now.
As promised, Ari is waiting for me at the baggage claim area, my garment bag and small suitcase at his feet. His pale blue eyes light up when he sees me. He’s always loved seeing me in full Laura gear.
When I reach him, he tries to take the bag from my shoulder. “No, I’ve got it. You’ve got your hands full,” I observe, nodding at the two luggage pieces he claimed for me.
He shrugs and picks up my garment bag and suitcase. “So,” he begins. “Tell me what’s going on with you. I smell man all over this funk you’re in.”
“I’m not in a funk. Besides, you smell man all over everything.”
He grins at me. “I wish.”
I grin as we make our way to the cab waiting along the curb. Once inside, he continues as if there hadn’t been a pause. “Well?”
I sigh. I probably shouldn’t say anything, and I certainly don’t owe Ari an explanation, but for some reason I want to talk about it.
“I met a guy.”
Ari’s eyes light up and he turns in his seat to face me. “I want details. What’s he look like, is he a good kisser, and will he be a good father to your children?”
“God, slow down! You’re as bad as Chris.”
“Okay then let’s start with the most important first. Is he a good kisser?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“As a matter of fact he is.”
“That’s a good sign. And where did you meet this diamond in the rough?”
“Do you remember the last guy to ask a question at the—”
Ari doesn’t even give me time to finish. He gasps and slaps my arm. “NO! Not that delicious hunk in blue jeans and boots?”
I should’ve known Ari would remember someone who looks like Alec.
“That’s the one.”
“Girl! I should’ve known that, when you finally found someone, it would be a stud like that.”
I ignore that statement for what it is—assumption that my private life is like the life I write about. It’s the same thing most people think.