Background: You’ve been invited to the event by Maxwell Roberts, a wealthy philanthropist who also runs a successful escort business for high-profile clients. (Don’t think too much about the logic of this. It’s a fantasy, after all.) You met Maxwell earlier in the day when you were interviewing him for a feature story for the online news source, Pulse. (Sound familiar?) When you met, you both felt an instant attraction, and he’s invited you to the charity gala to get to know you better. You’ve accepted his invitation, because you need more information for your story, and also because, despite your best efforts to remain impassive, you feel a powerful and passionate attraction to him. (Use your imagination if you must.)
Please note: You may ask me real-world questions about my business in this scenario, and I will try to provide answers. I won’t consider this breaking the reality of the scenario. The people you encounter will give you real information. By the end of the night, you should have increased your research file substantially.
Existing guidelines regarding physical contact apply, as do the procedures for canceling the date should you become uncomfortable. I will continue my promise to not kiss you unless invited to do so.
I would advise you to call in sick to work today. I need you well rested and prepared for tonight, and you will need to be home in the afternoon for reasons that will become clear. So, Miss Tate, try to relax. Take off your pants and bra, if you wish. Watch a movie. Eat some ice cream. I look forward to seeing you later this evening. Or rather, I’ll enjoy spending time with your alter ego.
Have a wonderful day.
Warmest regards,
Max.
As I finish reading, I hear a shutter go off and turn to see Asha pointing her phone at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Capturing a moment.” She puts her phone away. “Walk me down?”
I take the suitcase as she grabs her computer bag and giant purse, and within a few minutes we’re waiting on the sidewalk.
“Edie?” When I turn to look at her, she smiles. “I hope you know I only want the best for you.”
I take her hands, already feeling a painful lump forming in my throat. “Of course I know that. I feel the same way about you.”
“Good, because I want to make sure you know how much I love you before I do this.” She slaps the top of my head.
“Ow! Ash!”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor. Fortune favors the brave. Big risks lead to big rewards.”
“Do you want to inform me why you suddenly turned into a talking fortune cookie?”
She sighs. “I know that preaching gets nowhere with you. Just know that if I were you, I wouldn’t let my stupid pride and self-preservation mess up something that could be amazing.”
I open my mouth to reply, but she holds up her hand. “No. Don’t tell me I’m wrong or make excuses. Just think about it.”
Her car pulls up to the curb, and we hug as the driver loads her gear into the trunk.
“I’m going to miss you, Edie.”
“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” I swallow and blink to push back the tears. Crying isn’t something I do. I learned a long time ago that it hurts less to keep it in than let it out. Also, Asha cries less if I’m strong, and I’d do pretty much anything to prevent Asha from crying.
“Take care of Nannabeth while I’m gone. See you in a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll be here.”
She climbs into the back seat of the slick SUV, and I stand at the curb and wave until she disappears into the rush-hour traffic.
When I get back upstairs, I slump into the sofa, already feeling her absence. It’s so quiet without her, I jump when my phone buzzes with a text. It’s from her, and there’s a picture attached.
I open it and find the photo she took when I was reading Max’s email.
<Just for the record, I’ve NEVER seen this expression on your face before. EVER. Look at yourself, Edie. You look HAPPY. Just thought you should know. I love you and miss you already.>
She’s right. I look so happy, I barely recognize myself. What the hell is happening to me?
I breathe through another urge to cry. God, I’m such a baby right now. I think I’ll take Max’s advice and call in sick to work.
At the mere thought of his name, I feel myself smile. I don’t think I’ve ever done that over a man before and take great pains to make my face stand down.
As much as Asha loves me and thinks she know what’s best for me, there’s a simple truth she didn’t articulate: those who don’t jump off cliffs are a hundred percent less likely to wind up road kill than those who do.
FOURTEEN
Everyone Loves a Makeover
I stand in the middle of my living room surrounded by flowers, gift boxes, and people I don’t know, as I genuinely wonder if I’d fallen asleep and conjured up this elaborate dream.
“Miss Crane? How do you feel?”
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror a girl named Teresa is holding, and I honestly can’t express what I’m feeling. The surrealism began at lunchtime, when a delivery man knocked on my door armed with the most stunning long-stemmed roses I’ve ever seen. The card read:
Dear Miss Crane,
I can’t wait to see you tonight. Please save a dance for me.
Maxwell Roberts.
This was my first hint that I had no idea the extent to which Max would go to take this date to the next level.
After that, I received several other gifts: perfume, shoes, and even expensive lingerie. I’ve never thought of myself as sexually prudish, but the thought of Max picking out that underwear made me blush.
Then, at four this afternoon, I opened the door to find a woman holding a Marchesa garment bag, along with Venus the beauty therapist and a hairdresser named Peter. For the past few hours, I’ve been pampered beyond my wildest expectations and am now thoroughly polished, waxed, and slickly styled. My body is wrapped in the most stunning gown I’ve ever seen. It’s midnight blue, strapless, and dreamy, and I’ve never worn something that’s made me feel so thoroughly feminine before. The layers of silk chiffon wrap around my body like it was made for me, and the prettiness is given an edge by the way the skirt breaks into a high split on one side that reveals my freshly waxed leg and one of the glittery, strappy heels I’m wearing.
The real kicker about this entire transformation is that, even though I’ve never felt the need to have impeccable makeup, hair, and designer clothes to enhance my worth, I can’t deny that right now, looking like a sky-dipped goddess, I feel amazing.
“Miss Crane?”
I stop gawking at myself and turn to Teresa. “I’m sorry, what?”
She gives me a patient smile. “How do you feel?”
I run my hands over the luxe fabric. “Teresa, how much is this dress worth?”
Her smile falters. “Uh ... I’m not really authorized to tell you that.”
“Come on,” I urge. “I won’t tell him you told me.”
She looks at Venus and Peter, then back to me. “Let’s just say, for the money it would take to buy that dress, you could have a car.”
“A really nice car,” Peter says.
I swallow and stop stroking the fabric. Damn. I’d better not spill anything on this. I have no doubt Max will have to return it to whichever high-end boutique he borrowed it from.
There’s a knock at my door, and I groan, because I don’t think I can handle any more surprises. Venus runs over to open it, and a smartly dressed man is waiting.
“I’m Daryl. Miss Crane’s limo is ready.”