Savvy author of vampire romance novels, possessed of an intriguing mind and a more intriguing past? Or shy, possibly repressed woman I saw staring back at me from behind those glasses?
Which is the real Laura Drake? And how do I get close enough to find out?
CHAPTER THREE - Samantha
Ari shuts the hotel room door behind me and I collapse onto the sofa. I lay my head back and take a deep, calming breath. I’m exhausted.
I close my eyes and, within seconds, two intense drops of pale lime appear at the back of my mind to taunt me. My heart speeds up. Curiosity and excitement course through me. And so does a fine thread of fear. He’s so much like Mason…
How can he be real? And be so much like someone who’s not?
Suddenly restless, I push myself to my feet and walk into the bedroom to start peeling off the layers of Laura Drake. I tug the black bob-cut wig from my head then remove the non-prescription glasses and toss both onto the bed. I stand in front of the mirror appraising myself.
The black two-piece suit is tailored to fit my slim build. It is every inch Laura Drake—sharp, sophisticated, educated, in control. Not at all who I am. Only when my eyes reach my head do I begin to see bits of Samantha Jansen.
A few sprigs of dark red hair have escaped the wig stocking. The heart shaped face is pale, making the lips look dark pink. The gray eyes are heavy-lidded and red with fatigue.
In this moment, I am neither Laura Drake nor Samantha Jansen. Or am I both? I go to extraordinary lengths to keep my identity concealed, but I sometimes wonder who the real me is.
When I take one step back, away from the mirror, I become aware of my shoes. The strappy heels are the one bit of frivolity in my Laura Drake persona. And they’re my anchor to the one person in the world who keeps me grounded, no matter what happens to Laura—my sister, Chris. She designed the shoes. I wear them with pride. I wear them in support. But mostly, I wear them so that I never forget who I am, where I came from, and all the pain that brought me here.
“That went well,” Ari says as he picks up my wig and shakes it out.
“What time am I supposed to be flying out?”
“4:20.”
I look at my watch. Thirty minutes until I can leave. “Let’s check out early. We can get some coffee at the airport before I change.”
Ari holds the wig out to me and bows dramatically. “Whatever you prefer, miss.”
“Whatever I prefer?” I snort and take the silky black hair piece from his fingers. “Where have you been hiding this lovely version of yourself?”
Ari straightens and smiles. “The domineering, control-freak publicist keeps him under lock and key.”
“Um, I need a copy of that key. Why don’t you get right on that?”
“Yeah, not gonna happen,” he teases. “You’d be a wreck if I listened to you very often.”
I sigh. “But I’d be a happy wreck.”
“No, you’d be a poor wreck who spends her days writing with paper and pencil in a padded cell.”
“I’d be a very happy wreck.”
Ari shakes his head. “No appreciation.”
“Oh, you know I love you. I’d be lost without you and your domineering ways.”
“This, I know.”
“And your humility. Let’s not forget that.”
“Your glasses, Clark Kent,” he says, scooping them off the bed and tossing them to me.
I slip back into my alter ego. After adjusting my wig and straightening my jacket, I turn to the mirror. Once again, Laura Drake is staring back at me.
Behind me, Ari smiles and wheels my single piece of luggage to the door. With a sigh, I grab my purse and carry-on and follow, leaving behind the hotel that’s only six blocks from my apartment.
********
Two hours later, after a cab ride to the airport, a cinnamon dulce latte with Ari at the airport Starbucks and a quick change of identity in the First Class lounge, I am unlocking the door to my apartment as Samantha Jansen. Ari is on his way back to New York and Laura Drake is tucked safely away in my bag.
I don’t live a glamorous life, but the one thing I sprung for was a great view. It’s what sold me on this condo. From nearly every window in this unit, I can see the Battery and the Atlantic Ocean beyond.
That vista greets me when I stop just inside the doorway. White curtains billow at each of the six tall, open windows that line the wall in front of me. I breathe in the beauty of the scene, the lightly scented air, and the comforting smells of home; it’s the most soothing cocktail in the world.
Something touches my leg. I look down. It’s my cat, Jinx.
“Hi, Jinxy!” I croon, bending to stroke his silky body as he weaves in and around my legs. His solid black fur glistens healthfully in the light. “Did Chris take good care of you?” Even though I’ve only been staying a few blocks away, I dared not risk coming back here.
He meows his answer, looks up at me with his bright green eyes and licks his lips. “You’re hungry already? You’re always hungry.” Another meow. “Men!”
I roll my suitcase into the bedroom and come back out to feed Jinx. On the kitchen island, anchoring a note, is a huge vase of fresh flowers.
The note reads: Welcome back! I know you must be EXHAUSTED from such a LONG, LONG trip. I just want you to know that I hate your cat. If I didn’t adore you, I’d have thrown him out the window. Love you!
I snicker and roll my eyes. Chris is so dramatic. Just as I’m filling Jinx’s bowl with cat food that can surely be smelled a block away, I hear the front door open. The click-clack of heels on hardwood tells me who it is. Without lifting my head to see her, I know the instant Chris stops in the doorway; I smell her perfume. It’s her signature scent, sweet and expensive.
“As I live and breathe, it’s the Laura Drake! Quick! Somebody call the doctah. I’m fixin’ to succumb to the vaypahs.”
I smile. In my mind, I can see Chris standing on a wide veranda wearing a long, fluffy dress and white gloves, the back of her hand pressed theatrically to her forehead—the quintessential Southern Belle.
“The ‘vapors’ wouldn’t have had a chance to get you if you’d killed my cat,” I respond in an equally thick accent. I set Jinx’s food on the floor in front of him. He digs in immediately.
“What? He’s alive, isn’t he?” I straighten and eye Chris dubiously. “He’ll probably give me Cat Scratch Fever or bird flu or something similarly horrific, but I suffered through it because I know you love him.” She looks down at him and adds with a curl of her lip, “Even though I can’t imagine why.”